A Full House

Glass crunches my left foot every time I shift. I'm driving home with one less window, courtesy of some asshole who apparently took one look at my car and thought it was housing some luxury goods, maybe wads of hundred-dollar bills. Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

They smashed in the driver's side window and ultimately didn't take anything. Not the single USB cord hanging on by a thread where it connects to my phone. Not the gym bag full of rank sweatshirts, half-used deodorant, and empty blender bottles. Not even the small landfill of crushed energy drink cans rolling around in the backseat like caffeinated tumbleweeds.

Really smart move, asshole.

I've got wind howling in through the broken window and I chew on the inside of my cheek as I let the lake blur past me as I coast down the shoreline highway.

I should be mad. I am mad. But the anger and frustration are being drowned out by something else gnawing at the edges of my mind.

The Harvest Guild.

Amos Labonte and his Sugar Fairy stalker-turned-recruiter. What had that thing meant when it told me that I was 'sparkly'?

I'm not the most well-informed when it comes to the local Guild landscape, but I'm not stupid. I don't recall seeing any mention of Guilds directly recruiting people, either in the online forums or the System's Discussion Channels. Frankly, I have no idea what the hell to make of it. And who's to say that fairy was even telling the truth. It might have been a lie to save its own skin. If I hadn't caught it, would I still be holding Amos Labonte's business card? Did this Harvest Guild have different intentions for watching me so closely?

The entire situation made my brain itch.

I should probably go to one of the upcoming Guild assessments, in any case. At Level 19, I'm not sure how I stack up against the general field of other System-enhanced individuals. If Clyde is taking training so seriously, it probably means I'm not a shoo-in for a Guild position.

But that's a tomorrow problem. Right now? Right now I've got more pressing issues. Like, say, replacing a window before the next Cleveland early Summer rainstorm decides to baptize the upholstery of my car.

I pull into my parents' driveway. I sit in the car for a minute longer. Just breathing. Centering myself. I inhale—deep, filling my lungs—and hold the breath. Today was a good day, I think to myself. I tell myself. Sure, your car was broken into. But you also got a new Spell! You're a broke loser. But you have friends now! I exhale. Okay, let's go.

Before heading in, I check the weather on my phone. Clear skies for the next few days. So patching up my window with duct tape and a garbage bag can wait, at least for the night. Then I open the local Guild app and scroll through freelance postings, thumb tapping through the listings posted by the Municipal Guild.

Unfortunately, the pickings are slim and I'm still technically a System User with only a Rank E License, which makes only the weakest rated of Gates available to me. But then my eyes spot a listing for work beginning tomorrow:

Rank C Gate Excavation and Clearance

Status: Not yet in process (Gate Secured)

Location: Geneva, Ohio

Position: Extraction Team (Trailing) – Freelance Available

Level Requirement: 15 or Higher

Pay Grade: Hazard Light ($50/hour)

A Trailing Extraction Team? Now that's interesting. It's the Extraction Team that usually travels deeper into the Gate with the Exploration Team, handling more time-consuming and sensitive extraction of rarer materials and looting the monsters defeated by the Exploration Team. Level 15 seems like a fairly high bar for Extraction duty. But I suppose it's a Rank C Gate and the Pay Grade is noted as 'Hazard Light.'

I sign up with a few taps.

Notice!:

Recorded Level currently does not meet Level Requirement for this job. Please acknowledge and confirm that you meet or exceed the Level Requirement. You WILL be required to verify your Level on site at the Gate location prior to entering the Gate.

A window containing a wall of text pops up. I scroll through all the useless legal jargon until I can click an 'Accept and Acknowledge' box, which triggers an e-signature box. I sign and submit, and then I'm finally greeted with a confirmation message.

The job was listed as beginning tomorrow and noted that it had the potential to last three days. That would be enough to cover my window replacement and then some.

I step out of my car, slamming the door shut behind me. The sun is just now starting to hang lower in the sky as I head up the driveway and push through the side door and into the foyer connecting the kitchen and the stairs to the basement.

The house smells like clean fabric, polished wood, and a faint trace of spices from my mom's cooking, which always seem to permeate the air, in a comforting sort of way. I hear the TV going in the living room, the soft "Oh no she didn't!" rhythm of some Bravo network drama echoing off the walls. My mom's voice cuts through it, half amused, half scandalized.

I drop my gym bag by the door.

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"I'm home!" I call out.

From the kitchen, my dad steps into view. And he's got the Face. The, 'I'm not mad, I'm just confused and disappointed.' Like when he caught me and a couple buddies in high school smoking weed one evening.

"Hey, buddy," he says slowly, his voice calm and dad-serious. "We need to have a chat."

I blink. "Er… sure thing, Dad. What's up?"

He jerks a thumb behind him. "It's about that."

My eyebrow quirks in confusion as I have no idea what he could be referring to. I walk past him, out of the kitchen, to see what he's pointing at.

What I witness taking place in the living room causes my jaw to fall open. I stumble backwards as if I walked straight into a slap across my face.

My mother is sitting on the couch, legs crossed, a glass of red wine in hand, a wide, toothy grin across her face. In her lap, buzzing contentedly, is Jelly Boy. The blue slime, about the size of a basketball and just as round, rests in the nest of my mother's legs. His eyes are closed tight in a smile and on top of his head is my old wizard's cap. The wide brimmed, blue hat whose conical shape is bent floppily to the left.

He jiggles with joy at something on the TV. I think that's Real Housewives… Or maybe Summer House. I always have a hard time keeping all of these shows straight. My mom laughs, and Jelly Boy bounces in squishy agreement at something she just said.

Across from them, sitting with an unnatural stillness and intensity that would terrify most sensible people, are the Three Slimy Guys—Tom, Jax, and Other Tom.

The humanoid-shaped slimes are lined up on the opposite couch. Shoulder to gooey shoulder. All three somehow upright despite not technically having bones. Their focus on the television is unwavering, heads turned towards the screen and hands folded in their laps.

I stand there. Just... taking it all in.

I think my dad says something from over my left shoulder, but I can't hear what it is. There's a ringing in my ears.

"Uhhhh…" is all I manage to say.

Because what I want to say is: "HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT." But my brain isn't working at the moment. Am I having a stroke? I think.

I slowly turn to my dad.

He's got his arms crossed now. He's chewing the inside of his cheek and his eyebrows are raised. "So," he says, deadpan. "How long were your buddies here planning on crashing with us in secret?"

"Look, I can explain…!" I start.

He holds up a hand. "You can explain over dinner, bud."

My mom waves without looking away from the screen. "Joseph, I love these little guys! And you know how I've been telling your dad we needed to get a dog after you and your sister left the house!"

Tom—or maybe that's Other Tom—gives a single firm wobble.

"And boy do they have an appetite, though," my dad adds, scratching at the scruff on his chin. "Had your sister pick up a couple extra pies. If these things are joining us, we're going to need them."

I chuckle, nerves still riding shotgun in my brain. "They definitely like to eat…" I pause. Blink. "Wait. Liv is home?"

My dad nods. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Got back this afternoon. Internship here in town for the summer. Had her swing around the block for pizza. Should be back any minute."

He turns back to the living room and stares at the scene of domestic slime bliss.

My parents are taking the fact that I have four interdimensional slime monsters living under their roof pretty well. Definitely better than I expected… Perhaps a little too well, actually.

Tom's raising an ooze-arm like he's invested in the show. Jax emits a delighted plorp. Jelly Boy bounces happily in my mom's lap.

I eye President Jelly Boy. Did he have something to do with my parents' reactions? I know he has some kind of mental control over the Three Slimy Guys and the rest of the ooze colony back in their home Realm. But was that only because of their hive mind connection, or did Jelly Boy have some sort of mind controlling powers he's been developing all this time?

Et tu Jelly Boy?

I'm interrupted from the terrifying train of thought when my dad exhales. "Would you look at that…" he mutters. He scratches his jaw again before placing a firm hand on my shoulder.

Yeah. Would you look at that, I think.

The Three Slimy Guys are doing the wave. The actual wave.

It starts with Tom. A slow roll of goo from left to right, a little bulge rising along his surface. Then Jax picks it up, raising a gelatinous pseudopod in what I can only assume is a gesture of pure, unadulterated excitement. Then Other Tom, always a beat behind, finishes the sequence with a dramatic two-arm flourish. They continue this chain of motion, over and over again. They're locked in: focused on the TV where two reality stars are now screaming at each other over something deep and life-altering (at least I would assume by how passionately they're going at each other).

It's a crescendo of drama, vocals peaking, drinks flailing. The whole she-bang!

Jelly Boy bounces in place with glee. My mom sips her wine contentedly, which throws my mind into another loop. Since the arrival of the System, Mom has always had anxiety at anything having to even remotely deal with Gates and the Realms that lay beyond. Not that I blame her. A bunch of people randomly exploding would do that to a lot of people. The System was too new to be trusted, if you asked her.

And yet here she was, chilling with my slimy best pal.

"You as surprised as me by how well she's handling this?" my dad asks.

I simply nod.

Then, through the open window, I hear tires on the concrete driveway and the familiar hum of one of Liv's favorite pop songs.

Olivia. The prodigal younger sister. The pizza-bearer. Who I remember was gone away for her second semester in college when the System had arrived. I actually haven't even really spoken to her since that day. My heart is crumpled with feelings of joy and shame. Was I a bad older brother?

I glance at my dad. He's still watching the slimes with an expression that says he's fifty percent impressed, fifty percent reevaluating every choice he's made since the 80s.

I slap on the best smile I can. "I'll go help with the pizzas."

He grunts a dad-approval noise, which is odd for the man who typically always has something to say.

I jog through the kitchen, passing the fridge covered in expired coupons and various family photos my mom had developed, and push through the side door just as the car door slams shut.

Liv's already stepping out, arms loaded with pizza boxes stacked so high I can't see anything other than her arms and legs.

"Hey Liv," I say, automatically.

"Hey, pizza mule incoming. I hope your little blobs like pineapple on pizza."

Liv's shorter than me by about a head and a half. Of the two siblings, she's the one who takes after our mom. We have the same greenish eyes. But she's got that sun-drenched kind of tan, like she's perpetually on vacation, and while her hair's dark, it has coppery tones that make it appear lighter, particular in the light. She's like a younger girl version of me that lives somewhere between Instagram filters.

She's always been the successful one. The one with the straight A's and a resume that's about to burst at the seams. Despite all that, she never made her dumb big brother feel less-than. As far as siblings go, she was always cool as hell.

"Let me take those before you drop them all," I say, smiling brightly.

But as Liv rounds the hood of her car, something slams into me.

A pressure, like an invisible wall of force, slams into my body and my very soul quakes at the impact. Something deep within my core trembles and I realize it's my [Aura Sense] going haywire.

I freeze.

It's coming from her.

My sister's aura flares—strong and golden and bubbling around her like the flaring surface of the sun. It radiates outward like heat from a hidden forge. The kind you only notice when you're already sweating.

A stack of pizza boxes slam into my chest, and I nearly let them fall to the ground as she lets go. My hands fumble around the bottom box and I steady the stack of pies.

Liv pops her head around the tower of pizza boxes, looking up at me. She smiles and says something. But I'm not listening.

Because Liv. My sister. Is a System User. And a damned powerful one too.

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