The trip back was thankfully uneventful. There were a couple scavengers at the bodies of boarillas, but they flew off when we approached and Donald's people took most of the corpses with a look of relief. Melvin kept asking me questions about the stadium and its systems that I simply didn't know the answer to, he eventually quit pestering me. I guess my pain was becoming obvious even to him.

My migraine was returning with a vengeance, quickly approaching where, were I still human, I'd be constantly crying from the raw pain. If before it had felt like a butter knife jammed behind my right eye, it now felt more akin to a steak knife that was slowly spinning. I'm honestly not sure if I'd have noticed if I was attacked with just how all consuming the migraine was becoming.

What I did notice was the heat. It had been bad before, but we were properly into the heat of the day now without a single cloud in the wide blue sky to offer relief. Again my dark gray metal scales were eagerly drinking in the heat, now without even a protective cover of blood and grime, and making me feel terribly feverish as I panted like bellows in an attempt to cool off. I desperately wished for a lake or a creek to cool off in, but I knew for a fact there wasn't so much as a backyard swimming pool along our route back to the stadium. We did have the water bottles we brought with us, but that would be like splashing myself with a thimble full of lukewarm water. Not enough to even bother with when the others needed the water just as much as I did, I'd just need to make do with the rare and sparse bit of shade I could find along the road.

By the time we finally got back to the stadium, I felt like I had been on a death march. I might have been just lucid enough to murmur something as I broke away from the group to slither with all haste towards the creek.

I all but threw myself into the slow flowing water and moaning with relief as I began to greedily slurp down the murky water without a care for the potential risk. I might have even passed out in the little creek as the next thing I was consciously aware of was Omar smacking me awake with a look of concern.

"Joe? Joe! You okay man?" My old work buddy asked as he smacked my oversized cheek with his leathery almost human hands.

"Yeah," I groaned, "Just got a bit of migraine that was combining with the heat in unpleasant ways." I flinched as thinking of the migraine made it spike with pain. Then a still image of one of those far too long moments of my tail collapsing Bones' face with my tail flashed in my mind, but Bones was replaced with Omar. I grimaced saying, "If you're free, I need to talk to you about some things."

"Yeah man, I got plenty of time for you. What's up?" His voice was still tinged with concern, even as he tried to sound relaxed. Had someone already told him what happened?

"Not here," I grunted, pulling myself free of the clinging mud of the creek with a wet *schlup*, "In the stadium, this is the kind of information for the future boss of our group of misfits."

Omar grimaced at my reminder that I wanted him to take over when I left tomorrow but followed me into the stadium until we reached the field. I paused and slammed the flat of my tail against the wall, feeling out the vibrations and not noticing anyone nearby. The nearest was Melvin, but he was crawling through the walls and tracing wires so I doubted he'd overhear our conversation. "Alright, we look to be in the clear and can speak freely."

"Is it okay then if I say I really don't want to be in charge of everyone when you leave then?" Omar asked flatly.

"Entirely," I nodded with a coy smile, "Honestly, that's a third of the reason I want you in charge in the first place."

"Tha fuk?" Omar asked, going a bit cross-eyed at the logic.

"I'm solidly of the opinion that the only leaders of any real merit are those who don't want to lead but do so out of necessity." I explained, "Such leaders won't try to amass power around themselves, aren't prone to corruption, and tend to actually care for those they rule over. They just want to get things stable enough to where they feel they can safely turn power over to someone else, and we tend to remember such men favorably. George Washington, Juan Carlos, and Cincinnatus are all examples of great men who, when given absolute power, chose to relinquish it when their job was done.

"Now I hardly expect you to be the next Washington," I chuckled at Omar's horrified look, "But I know you Omar. You won't become a tyrant or a despot, you have the moral character to be good and still do the necessary evils of rulership when needed. Add in your training in marketing and management and you already have more practical knowledge of leadership than I do with my gut instincts and time playing city builders or survival games."

"Can't it be someone else though?" he all but begged.

"Sure," I gave him a shrug, "Make your first action to declare a successor followed by your retirement. Declare a ruling council and refuse to be part of it. That's on you, I have full confidence that you'll do what's best for these people when I leave."

I thought that Omar was going to cry as he choked out emotion ladened, "Thanks man."

"You're a good man Omar," I said using my tail to carefully pull my old friend into my best attempt at a one armed hug, "Well, for a bean."

"Oh fuck you cracker!" Omar laughed, pushing out of my hug, "Quit being gay."

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Adopting my most 'flamboyant' voice I could, I scoffed, "You know I don't roll that way darling." Sobering I continued, "I do still have important stuff to tell you."

"Right, right." Omar took a deep breath before looking me in the eyes, "So what happened?"

"Most of it is just some basic trade deals and verbal agreements we made with the folks up at the Veranda," I waved dismissively, "The really important part is that they were being attacked by those Tango gangsters and in the process of running them off I accidentally killed one of them and-."

"Fuck man," Omar whispered, "You okay?"

"I never dropped below half health," I waved off his concern, "and this will hardly be the first time going through serious mental trauma, I can handle the ghost and images. The important thing is how the system reacted to me killing him."

"Do you have some sort of curse or lingering debuff on you?"

"No," I intoned gravely, "It rewarded me with eight hundred experience points."

"Eight hundred?" Omar whispered with shock, "Holy shit. That's nearly as much as the boss gave us!"

"Yes." I said my tone as cold as the grave and as sharp as a falling guillotine, "As much as four quests, equaling two hundred and sixty seven skill ups, and comparable to bringing down an area boss. All for the simple and easy act of killing a fellow man. Really think about that for a second."

"Fuck," Omar breathed, hand going to his head, eyes widening in horror, as he braced himself against the wall. "If this gets out people will start killing each other for easy levels."

"I don't think we need to worry about most of our own people turning on each other," I comforted him, "But what about with other groups. It would make them all too happy to kill Tango and any other raider group to the last man, but what about after that? It doesn't take a lot of justification to villainize another group, especially not with a juicy prize like that hanging over their heads."

"It's like it's designed to make us attack each other," the wall proved insufficient stabilization as Omar collapsed to his ass.

"Especially when you consider that we haven't seen any system for forming groups or societies," I added, a deep cold hatred forcing its way out of me, "No skills for crafting, very few for healing, very few instances of differentiating between friend and foe. This system seems to be designed to coax people into being independent murder machines that slaughter all they come across and discard any idea of civilization."

"¡Esos malditos cabrones!" Omar spat angrily slamming his fist against the concrete of the stadium hard enough to crack it and knock a few chips free, "How the hell is this shit supposed to be a reward!?"

"Really does seem more like a targeted attack to make us wipe each other out," I agreed, "What I don't get is why they'd bother if they have systems that can cover the entire planet and remake everyone on it. Why not simply let us dissolve to dust instead of slowly killing each other?"

"Maybe it's a test?" Omar offered, "Like, see if we can remain good with such temptations hanging over us and no one looking like people anymore?"

"Could be," I agreed, "Could also be some sort of cultural or religious ritual for them. Let us prove ourselves beast before they wipe us out, reassured in the fact they simply removed an evil species from the galaxy. Impossible to know without more information."

"So what do we do with this information?" Omar asked wearily, his anger burned out leaving him simply tired.

"Keep it locked up tight and shared only with people of outstanding moral character, obviously. Be very careful of who you pick to be your noose man."

"My what?" Omar jumped.

"Your noose man," I looked at Omar, "Your executioner. The guy who kills the worst of the criminals." Seeing Omar's wide eyed horror I elaborated, "Wild West, Omar. We have few lawmen and our nearest support is several hours away. People who step out of line to the point of commiting murder, rape, and treason can't be tolerated. We don't have the resources to simply live out their life in captivity, so we have to remove them permanently, in a way that serves as a warning to everyone else." Looking my friend dead in the eyes I finished with, "I'd recommend either crucifixion or hanging personally, with public flogging or whipping for lesser crimes."

"I hate this," Omar sighed defeatedly.

"I'm not exactly enthused by this myself," I grunted, massaging my forehead to try and ease the pain, "But this is the stuff historically proven to work in dozens of cultures across time. Hopefully in a few years we can start getting back to more 'civilized' times, but I find myself fearing that each future wave will be designed to sweep our feet out from under us."

Omar groaned loudly, "Shit I haven't even begun to think about those yet. That's going to be a mess and a half ain't it."

"It could be way worse," I said cheerily, "Despite all attempts to change it in recent years, we are still a high trust society. Makes reforming society way easier when everyone doesn't actively distrust each other and aren't actively looking to fuck their neighbor over for a buck. Be happy we aren't in Russia, Africa, or China."

"Man I didn't even think about that," Omar hummed, "This shit is global. Fuck, some places must be in open anarchy already. I can't see those tribal peoples in the Amazon or on isolated islands dealing with this well."

"Hell, I'm curious how certain religious societies are handling this." I took a minute to try and think past the migraine, "I can see Buddhist and Hindus handling this decently, the whole rebirth thing is already a part of their doctrine so they should be fine. As long as they don't try killing themselves to hopefully get to be a human again next life, but I think that's discouraged by knocking you down rungs of the rebirth tier list. Doubt Islam is handling it well though."

"How about you?" Omar asked. He elaborated when I raised a brow, "About no longer being made in God's image and what not?"

"My body might not be in His image anymore, but my soul is still the same one he crafted and I have shaped. So long as I hold to His teachings I believe that Heaven's gates will still be open to me." I answered with a serenely serpentine smile. "The works of the Overseers are impressive, but still parlor tricks compared to His works. I have no doubt these demons will face His judgment." My smile turned vicious as I purred, "I simply hope to have a part to play in delivering it."

"So uh, what was that about trade agreements?"

"Oh right," I sighed, suddenly feeling tired. "Do you mind letting me take a rain check on that? I've been fighting a killer migraine the last few hours and could use a nap now that the really important stuff has been covered."

"Yeah, I don't mind," Omar said standing up. He paused and walked over to stroke my snoot, "If you need someone to talk to about anything, I can always make time for you Joe."

"Thanks Omar," I hummed, eyes already drifting close, "You're a great friend."