I didn't wait for them to argue. I stepped out into the middle of the ramp, the iron crowbar clanging against a metal trash can to get their attention.
"Over here, you grey bastards!" I yelled.
The three Strays froze. Their milky eyes locked onto me simultaneously. It was a hive-mind reflex, a territorial trigger that overrode everything else. They hissed—a sound like steam escaping a broken pipe—and began to spread out.
The Female Stray took the left. The other two, larger and more muscular, took the center and right. They were trying to flank me.
"Go!" I barked over my shoulder.
I heard Sarah’s boots hitting the concrete, heard Miller’s frantic stumbling as they sprinted toward the exit gate in Section D.
The Female Stray lunged first.
She was fast, but she was sloppy. She leapt from a parked car, her claws extended. In my last life, I would have tried to block. I would have died.
This time, I stepped into her guard.
I swung the crowbar in a short, brutal arc. I didn't aim for the head; I aimed for the knee. The iron caught the joint with a sickening crack. The Stray shrieked and tumbled, her leg bent at a wrong angle. I didn't feel a flicker of hesitation. I didn't see a woman who used to work in HR. I saw a hitbox. I saw a threat that needed to be neutralized.
[STRAY CRIPPLED.]
[+20 XP]
The other two didn't hesitate. They saw their pack-mate fall and it only made them more aggressive. They charged together.
I felt the weight of my own weakness then. My lungs were burning. The "Veteran's Calm" was a mental shroud, but it couldn't hide the fact that my Level 1 muscles were tearing under the strain. I had the knowledge of a Master, but the tools of a novice.
One of the larger Strays swiped at my chest. I twisted, feeling the blackened bone-claws whistle through my shirt. I countered with a thrust, burying the sharp tip of the crowbar into its soft underbelly.
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The creature didn't die. It bit down on the iron bar, its needle-teeth sparking against the metal. I didn't pull back. I shoved the bar deeper, twisted it ninety degrees, and used the creature's own momentum to throw it into the side of a parked van.
I was fading. My stamina bar was flashing a desperate, strobing red.
[WARNING: STAMINA CRITICAL.]
[PHYSIQUE LIMIT REACHED.]
Shut up, I thought. Just one more minute.
I backed away, leading them toward the center of the garage, away from Sarah. I swung around a support pillar, using the momentum to lash out at the second large Stray. I caught it in the ribs, feeling the bone shatter.
I reached the edge of my endurance. My vision was blurring, the violet light of the sky outside turning into a smear of static. I fell back against a silver sedan, my breath coming in ragged, wet sobs.
Then, a loud, metallic CLANG echoed through the garage.
The exit gate. Sarah and Miller had opened it.
The Strays paused, their heads tilting toward the new sound. I didn't let them choose. I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the pillar, ripped the pin, and smashed the nozzle against the concrete before throwing the canister into the middle of the pack.
BOOM.
The white chemical powder blinded them. I didn't wait. I ran.
I reached the gate just as it was shuddering into place. Sarah reached out and hauled me through the gap into the alleyway. I collapsed against the brick wall, my chest heaving, covered in grey, oily ichor and the dust of the extinguisher.
The silence that followed wasn't peaceful. It was heavy.
I looked up, expecting to see Sarah’s relief. I expected a hug, or at least a hand on my shoulder.
Instead, Sarah was standing three feet away, her back pressed against the opposite wall of the alley. She was still holding the pry bar, but she wasn't holding it like a survivor. She was holding it like she was afraid she might have to use it on me.
"Jax?" she whispered. Her voice was thin, trembling with a frequency I’d never heard from her.
"I'm okay," I wheezed, wiping the grey slime from my forehead. "I'm not bitten. The tape held."
She didn't move. She wasn't looking at my wounds. She was looking at my eyes.
"You didn't even blink," she said. It wasn't a compliment. It was an accusation. "When you hit that woman... the one that used to be Dave’s assistant... you didn't hesitate. You didn't look like you were fighting for your life. You looked like you were... doing chores."
"Sarah, she wasn't a woman anymore. She was—"
"I know what she was!" Sarah snapped, her eyes filling with tears. "But you... you knew exactly where to hit her. You knew how to twist that bar. You're wearing a marketing shirt and you're covered in blood, and you're talking about 'Status' and 'System' like this is a Tuesday. Who are you?"
I looked at my hands. They were still steady. That was the problem. A normal man’s hands would be shaking. A normal man would be vomiting in the corner like Miller was currently doing.
I had the muscle memory of a killer and the cold heart of a man who had already seen the end of the world. To her, I didn't look like the Jax who forgot to do the dishes. I looked like a predator who happened to know her name.
"I'm the guy keeping you alive," I said. My voice was flatter than I intended. The "Veteran's Calm" wouldn't let me sound scared, even when I wanted to.
Sarah looked at Miller, then back at me. She didn't come closer. She just wiped her eyes with her sleeve, her gaze hard and distant.
"That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered.
[RELATIONSHIP SHIFT: SARAH]
[STATUS: FRIGHTENED/DEPENDENT]
[TRUST DECREASED BY 15%]
I felt the sting of it—a cold, digital notification of my own fading humanity. I wanted to reach out to her, to tell her the truth, but the prompt for the next quest was already flickering in my peripheral vision. The city was screaming.
"We have to move," I said, picking up the crowbar.
I didn't look to see if she was following. I knew she would. She was too smart to stay here alone. But as I stepped toward the mouth of the alley, I realized I’d saved her life, but I might have already lost her.
