Don’t come out.

Patrick’s instruction settled in my mind as I thought of what to do. Angie was looking down at me, her expression gradually showing understanding.

“Can you help me carry this thing inside?” Patrick asked. In my head I heard, “five of them have me. Armed. I don’t know where the others are. Don’t use fire, I think one of them has Spontaneous Combustion.”

“Yeah, gimme a second,” I said, biding time. My heart leapt into my throat, sending flashes of heat to my face. “Jade and Kiril are in the back, just waiting on them.” I looked up at Angie and whispered, “do you still have Telekinesis?”

She nodded frantically. She’s scared, too. “Yeah. The soup will give you Play Dead.”

Shit. Angie was able to move things with her mind and my ability would be roll over? Sure enough the prompt flashed in my brain.

Ability Active

- Play Dead -

- Tier 0 -

- Con 2 -

0.25%/min

You can appear dead to others. Your pulse is undetectable and you feel cold to the touch. You cannot move, but you retain all senses. Constitution only decreases while in this state.

That wouldn’t do. A quick scan around the shabby campsite brought me to a sack across the fire, but when I opened it my eyes were graced with the sight of more penis shrooms. I sifted through them, shoving aside roots and sticks. Come one, gimme something.

“They’re coming in,” Patrick’s telepathic voice warned.

My hands struck Red Lip Flower. Good enough. I shoved it down my throat without hesitation and turned to see Angie squeal and raise her hands. Slipping inside the cave was a broad-shouldered shirtless man marked with tattoos. He pointed a bow at us and made room for his allies.

A second figure ducked inside, a tall man with long black hair, also sporting a bow. Behind him came two women carrying axes. The last to enter was Patrick. He shuffled in awkwardly with the knife at his throat and his captor puppetting him from behind.

“Step away from that,” said the captor, briefly flashing the knife in my direction. I stood, displaying my empty hands. Damien Miles. That was the prompt that came up after he spoke.

It was an odd way to be introduced to someone. He had a knife against the skin of one of my friends, and now I knew his full name. I knew he was an Explorer, the first I’d seen of that title, and I knew he was the leader of The Purple Hearts. A flash of the mundane brought me back to board meetings at work, of long oval tables and pungent cologne. Small black nameplates designated the well-groomed suits sitting behind them, and before the meetings were underway, everyone always took turns introducing a little fact about themselves. Hi, I’m Damien Miles, and I’m an Explorer.

And one of us isn’t walking out of this.

“No quick movements,” Damien warned. Firelight flickered off the heavy sweat on his brow. He was using Patrick as a hostage as much as something to hide behind. “We don’t want to fight.”

All five fanned out in the cave, three of them putting their bodies between Damien and the exit while the tattooed guy stood near the second cavern. He gave it a brief glance before honing in on Angie and I.

All of them are scared. It was easy to tell. Hell, I’m fucking terrified. I was shaking, but hoped none of them could see it.

“Okay,” I said. Fuck, my mouth is so dry. I covertly licked my parched lips. “What do you want?”

“Just the Anchor,” said Damien. “We know it’s here. We’ll take it over and you guys can leave.”

The tattooed fella kissed his teeth but Damien strangled the incoming argument with a glare.

That was the thing about Anchors, I’d learned. Parties claimed an Anchor, and from then on it was only usable by them and unaffiliated players designated by the party. The only way for anyone else to use it? Well, a party could give it up willingly, or switch to another Anchor if they found a better spot.

Or you could kill the people who owned it.

Ability Active

- Charming Glare -

- Tier 1 -

- Fort 3 -

10%/use

You can issue a simple command to anyone who locks eyes with you. The charm breaks once the command is fulfilled. Resisted by willpower.

There it is.

After recovering from the brief high I immediately began to concoct ways to get Angie and I out of this fucked up mess. I only had five uses, and five enemies stood in front of us. If any of them had a high enough willpower they would resist it. The hunters desperately needed to be taken care of first, but Patrick’s throat was a muscle spasm away from—

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“Did you hear what I said?” Damien raised his voice, but it cracked with apprehension. “Our Anchor was taken. We need this. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Who took your Anchor?” Angie said, her tone unreasonably sweet. I hadn’t realized she shifted closer to me. “Maybe we can help get it back?”

Damien peeked out from behind Patrick a little more. “An alliance?”

“Yeah, an alliance,” I said. Nobody had yet explained to me how party alliances worked, but if that was the tactic required to get them to lower their weapons, I was all for it.

The tattooed fucker rolled his eyes. He’s trouble. “We talked about this. No alliances,” he said. “We’ll take care of it ourselves.” A prompt told me his name was Lyle. He looks like a Lyle.

“Yeah, fuck it. It’s not worth it,” said Michael, the second hunter.

“Shut up, neither of you are in charge,” Damien barked.

“An alliance might be good for both of us,” said Patrick, wincing. He was several inches taller than Damien and so had to bend backwards in a manner which looked horribly uncomfortable. “We help you get rid of this other party, and all of us can feel a little safer knowing a group like that isn’t around anymore.”

The timid leader seemed to consider that, eyes wide with fear. He opened his mouth to speak when Lyle interjected. “Christ, just kill ‘em and get it over with. Brie’s hurt and needs a potion.”

I winced at the mentioning of the name and looked over at the one they called Brie. She had the axe and was bandaged on both arms and her left leg, but had curly blonde locks whereas my Brie was a brunette.

“I said shut the fuck up,” said Damien.

It was over. Lyle knew it, Michael knew it, and so did I. They wouldn’t accept an alliance even if Damien declared it. But the leader still pondered his options in brutal silence for almost a minute while Patrick grunted and struggled to maintain his awkward pose.

“If you two give us a potion for our friend,” Damien finally said, “then we’ll talk. But don’t try anything. If you do, just know I’ve got Hail of Thorns.” It was as much a reassurance to himself as it was a threat to us.

And you’ve just tipped your hand.

Five of them—one injured, two with bows, the boss man with Hail of Thorns, and one with Spontaneous Combustion. I’d seen Jade use that against the vegetable gnomes, so I had some idea of how it worked. On the other hand there were two of us.

No. Three.

“We’ve got a potion for her,” I said. My hands were clammy. My heart kicked into a dizzying tempo as the gears in my head clicked into place. I knew what I had to do. “It’s just over there.” I nodded to Gnome who (bless him) had been silent the entire time. No doubt he was saving his own skin (er…wood?), but it played to our advantage.

Damien’s eyes flashed with the briefest hint of alleviation. “Go get it,” he ordered.

As I turned, I brushed close to Angie. “Get ready,” I whispered, and could almost feel her muscles tense. Hunching down next to my wood and silver friend, I hauled him up and started back towards Damien.

The twang of a bow being drawn stole my attention. “That’s far enough,” said Lyle. He peered at me over the fletching of an arrow. “You can just take it out and leave the box.”

“There’s a few things in here,” I said. “I thought Damien would like to have a look.”

The leader nodded. Sweat dripped from his nose. “It’s alright, I’ve got his friend. He knows not to do anything stupid.”

As I approached with Gnome I felt regret for what was about to happen. He was probably a nice guy, and in another world—in the real world—he might’ve been an HR executive, or a grocery store manager. Maybe he liked to fish on weekends or collect Hummel figurines. Maybe he had a wife and a kid, or maybe he had recently gone through a breakup. His favourite restaurant might’ve been an overlooked Thai joint down the street from his apartment, and I’m sure he was a loyal HBO subscriber.

But on Killjoy Island he was Damien Miles the Explorer, and his friends were Hunters with their big scary bows trained on me. There’s only two ways for this to end.

“Open it up,” he said as I stood in front of him.

I gave Patrick a knowing look. “If you say so.” I lifted Gnome close to Damien’s arm, one hand on the lid.

“Surprise!” Gnome sprang to life, snatching Damien’s wrist with a toothless crunch. The knife fell, but didn’t clatter to the ground. It hovered there, just as I had hoped. Before anyone could react, Angie’s telekinetic powers launched the blade into Michael’s neck.

Patrick slipped out of Damien’s grip and I slid us both behind the party leader. As Damien struggled with Gnome I peered beyond at Lyle, who drew an arrow back, briefly considered the possibility of hitting his leader, and fired. The arrow took Damien in the shoulder. He cried out, spinning, falling to the floor.

Shit. Lyle nocked his second arrow, finger swiping over the tip. I recognized the small red thorns that emerged along the arrowhead—Nature’s Barb. Shit, shit shit. As he drew the arrow back, we locked eyes long enough for me to ensnare him.

He paused suddenly. The power swelled behind my eyes. My lips curled involuntarily into a smile as I spoke the command. “Lower your weapon.” A second voice enveloped mine. It was deeper, feminine, and carried my words like a boat on a stormy wave.

Lyle’s eyes glazed over. He swayed, intoxicated by my words. Don’t resist, don’t resist. Don’t resist. Slowly, he lowered the bow.

Patrick was on him before the command could end. The botanist threw his shoulder into the larger man, tackling him to the ground. I spun to see Angie holding her own against the other two. One of them was held off the floor against the wall by an unseen force, and Brie was on her back, bleeding profusely from a head wound.

“This one has no meat on his bones! Too skinny! Too frail!” Gnome declared, unaffected by Damien’s desperate swatting. I ripped the party leader’s axe from its sheathe and ran towards Patrick, who was wrestling with the hunter.

Lyle propelled him into a rock with a boot to the chest, and quickly found his feet again as I swiped down with my axe. He batted away my strike with his own axe and was quick with a counterattack, cutting at my ribs. The heat came before the pain. I sank to my knees, blood dribbling down my thigh. Lyle grabbed my collar and spun me around to face Angie. Cold steel brushed against my neck.

“Don’t you dare, bitch!” Lyle spat. Angie had turned to us and lifted a rock into the air with her mind.

“Let him go!” She said.

“You let me leave here and I might do that,” he countered. The steel pressed harder into my neck, breaking skin. “Do whatever the fuck you want with him.” I couldn’t see it, but I assumed Lyle was nodding to his leader who was rolling on the floor, conflicted between clutching his shoulder or his arm. Gnome was on the ground beside him, having finally released his hold.

“You let him go first, and then we’ll talk,” said Angie. The rock hovered in the air around her head, waiting to be hurled.

“I don’t think so. You’ve got ten seconds before I cut his throat.” The red thorns began sprouting from his axe.

There was little I could do with Charming Glare without having eye contact with my target, and my other ability was…

Wait.

When in doubt, pretend you’re dead. I activated the ability with a thought and instantly lost all muscle control. The rhythm of my heart slowed to a crawl. My muscles relaxed and I slumped forward, my neck digging into the barbed blade.

“What the fuck?” I heard him say before he released me. The floor came up to meet my cheek, and a second later the unmistakeable thud of a rock against skin sounded overhead. Lyle’s axe clattered near my face. Good job, Angie. I tried to smile, but instead I drooled.

A moment later I was back, life returning to me as quickly as I’d snuffed it out. I put a hand to my side to stem the blood loss and looked around at the carnage. Lyle was out, face bloodied. Michael was sprawled on the ground near Damien, dead. Brie and the other girl had dropped their weapons and looked up at the man who stood at the mouth of the cave.

Kiril’s silhouette was imposing in the fading daylight. One hand rested on the pommel of his sword, and for a long time he said nothing.

“Line them up,” was his first command, uttered as if he’d just returned home from a long work day and wanted nothing more than to sink into the couch and put on the game.

Jade and Kiril stepped into the cave, and without much ceremony, he drew his sword.