Chrome

"Hey, where's your internship again?" I ask after our laughter finally settles down.

"Chase Guild. Cleveland branch technically, but I'll be bouncing between Columbus and Chicago too."

"What are you going to be doing with the Guild during this internship?"

"Shadowing and assisting their Healers as their Exploration Teams return from Gates. Interns aren't allowed to act as healers inside Gates," she says. She's looking down at her phone, and begins typing away. "That's for official Guild members only."

"Are a lot of Guilds taking on interns?"

"Not really. I got lucky with some networking."

"Huh. That's interesting…"

Liv looks up from her phone. "Jokes aside. Tell me more about your Class. Don't think I've heard of a Muscle Mage before."

After explaining the details of my badass Class to the ignorant, un-initiated Liv, I decide to call it a night.

Not because I'm tired—though I am. And not because I'm out of things to chat about with Liv—though that's also true. It's mostly because I signed up for the Gate job tomorrow and am a creature of habit. Need those eight hours, if I can get 'em!

"I'm calling it a night," I say, stretching. "You mind making sure this is put out before you head in?"

Liv just nods. She's looking down at her phone, screen illuminating her face as she finishes reading something. Then, she looks up at me. "Later, Muscle Mage," Liv calls with a smirk. She accompanies the words with over exaggerated flexing.

"Hey, at least I didn't pick a Class that sounds like a corporate HR initiative," I shoot back.

"That's a weak ass come back," she says. "Did you get enough protein today?"

I throw my hand over my heart in feigned injury. "OK, that one hurt!" Before closing the sliding deck door behind me, I turn back towards Liv and the fire pit. "And actually, I was like thirty grams under my goal! Salt in the wound, Liv!"

She flips me off cheerfully.

I duck into the first floor bathroom and start on my nightly routine. After relieving myself and washing my face, I'm brushing my teeth. At the same time, I shoot off a text to Clyde.

>JOSEPH: Yo man! How's training?

I don't expect a response. He's probably off somewhere being the cool-as-fuck loner on his big training arc. But my phone buzzes less than a minute later.

>CLYDE: good. still getting used to the dagger you gave me. not bad. not a gun, tho. need to get my hands on a system-powered firearm again.

That earns a lopsided grin from me, foamy toothpaste and all. I rinse, spit, and text again.

>JOSEPH: What do you know about Chase Guild?

>CLYDE: biggest in ohio. hq is in columbus. big money. brutal work. meat grinder.

>JOSEPH: you applying?

>CLYDE: yeah. next open enrollment assessment is in 10 days. i'll be there.

>CLYDE: you should come too.

Ten days. I stare at the message for a moment, bottle of mouthwash frozen at my lips. I do a quick rinse, and while swashing the minty liquid in my mouth, fire off a response. Something non-committal.

>JOSEPH: what other guilds you trying?

I spit, rinse out the sink and make my way out of the bathroom, making sure to hit the light switch on my way out. I navigate through the house and to the basement.

>CLYDE: chase. jet. emerald arms. top 3 paying Guilds with branches in ohio.

Jet and Emerald Arms. I don't know anything about them. Why do all of these Guilds have such stupid sounding names? I can't help but think about how the U.S.'s biggest and most powerful Guild is called 'Pegasus' of all things.

I slip into my room and plop down onto my bed, which sends the sleeping Jelly Boy bouncing into the air. The Slime lets out a surprised buzzing sound before landing back onto the bed with a couple of smaller bounces. I slip under the sheets and the blue Slime draws closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. I give him a gentle pat on top of his body.

>JOSEPH: you ever hear of Harvest Guild?

The response takes longer this time.

>CLYDE: nah. i haven't. it's probably a smaller Guild. local i'd guess. just got their license.

>CLYDE: I'm not bothering with small Guilds unless i need to.

He follows up the message with three emojis: all with dollar signs for eyes and their tongues sticking out.

I nod, even though he can't see it. Makes sense.

I fire back a final message.

>JOSEPH: thx. good luck w the dagger. maybe i'll see you at the chase assessment.

>CLYDE: hope so. later muscle mage!

That gets a real laugh out of me. I hit him with a few flexing emojis.

After texting Clyde, I spend some time browsing the System's Discussion Channels. I find an interesting thread advertising a meeting of the Great Lakes Spellcasters Society in Detroit, Michigan. It's coming up soon. Right before the Fourth of July. I pull out my phone and thumb down a note to remind myself to look into it further.

When my eyelids start to feel heavy, I tuck the phone onto the charger and switch off the lamp on my nightstand. I can hear the snores of the Slimy Guys drifting through the darkness of my bedroom. They like to cram themselves into my wardrobe. The closed doors emit a soft rising-and-falling harmony of vibrations like it's a slime-powered white noise machine.

"Night, buddy," I whisper to Jelly Boy.

He makes a low, sleepy blorp and jiggles once in acknowledgment before drifting back into oozy dreamland.

I think of the Chase Guild, and the various upcoming open assessments.

"Ten days, huh?" I mutter to myself.

Then, I close my eyes, and let the dark take me.

I'm driving up to where my Maps app tells me the Gate site is located. Now with a newly patched up window. I mean, yeah, it's made of clear plastic sheeting, reinforced with packing tape and a layer of duct tape, but it's fully serviceable! It flaps slightly as I pull up to the barricaded premises of the Gate. The wind catches the edge and makes it whistle like a dying tea kettle. Whatever. Not like I'm trying to impress anyone.

I kill the engine and glance at my reflection in the rearview. I pull the trench coat closed tighter. Technically, on this job I'm allowed to wear whatever I want so long as it doesn't pose a hazard to myself or those around me. My choice of work apparel is a tan, full-body, light weight trench coat. Dress for the job you want! If only my dream job was the serial flasher at the local mall.

Still, the last thing I want—or need—is for things to get weird the moment I step through the Gate and am automatically equipped with System-mandated Daisy Dukes. The trench coat is just my way of maintaining a shred of dignity before the Gate strips it away like a vengeful TSA agent with too much power.

I hop out and approach the perimeter. I'm greeted by Muni Guild members in System-generated armor that reminds me of Fantasy-themed riot gear.

"Name and ID?" asks one of the guys at the security checkpoint. He's a larger man with a closely cropped goatee.

"Joseph Sullivan," I say, fishing out my driver's license and badge that marks me as a licensed freelancer. "Here for Extraction duty."

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He squints at the ID, then scans my System User badge with a little palm-sized slab of tech that looks like a bar code scanner with a blue crystal embedded into the hard plastic surface. He frowns at the device then nods and waves me through. "Zone 3. Follow the signs."

This Gate is my first C Ranker and I'm shocked at how much more… organized the entire site feels. There are multiple 'zones' between the perimeter and the Gate itself, each staffed with armed Guild members and freelancers alike. I use [Aura Sense] and only a couple of the armored guards even register. But as I approach Zone 3, my [Aura Sense] causes the hairs on my arms to stand on end.

Is that the Gate I sense? I think. If so, then the possibility of using [Aura Sense] as a Gate detector could be very useful.

"Hey, watch it pal!" someone barks at me as they turn a corner and barely avoid walking straight into me.

"Always do," I mutter and start walking a little faster.

The Gate is hard to miss by the time I enter Zone 3. Like nearly every other Gate I've seen, it's a tall, circular wall of swirling energy. The air around the Gate tingles with static-like energy. The patrol duty is particularly heavy in this zone.

I check in at the staging zone and rendezvous with the others assigned to enter this Gate. My team is the Trailing Extraction squad. Though it's the highest stationed Extraction squad on a Gate-diving expedition, it's really just a fancy way of saying "loot grunts."

This gig's different from the usual material collection crap I've done before. This time, we're bagging loot off monster corpses. Our job is to take rear position to the Exploration Team and surgically yank the cores before the monsters' corpses dissolve or degrade the valuable material.

I take my position in the small crowd forming near the Gate. There are clearly two groups. The first—all decked out and chatting amiably—are clearly the Exploration Team. Then there are the rest of us.

"Realm codename: Chrome Forest," the Site Manager—a surprisingly chipper woman who looks about my age—explains, reading from a tablet in her hands. "Insectoids, mostly. Chitin exteriors, soft undersides. Hit them hard enough, you can crack 'em open. However, we've found that most of their underbellies are soft and easy to puncture. If you use a softer extraction point, be careful not to hit the core."

She grins. I try to decide if it's meant to be reassuring or a warning. "Damaged cores will be noted in your freelancer records and may impact future engagement with the Guild."

The Exploration Team is already lining up at the Gate. There are six of them. They're wearing matching jackets branded with the symbol of the Municipal Guild, accompanied by coordinated gear. Each of them seems calm, serious expressions that are 'all business.' They're hear to clock into their job and put in a day's work.

I can appreciate that.

One of the Exploration Team members—a woman with the sides of her head buzzed in a dramatic looking ombre-colored undercut, gives me and the other Extraction Team members a friendly wave before stepping through the Gate.

My Extraction Team—eight of us in total—shuffle forward after them. There are five guys, including myself, and three women. We look less like an elite squad and more like the support group that formed in a Waffle House parking lot.

We take our marks in front of the precipice to the portal.

Then, one after another, we enter the Gate.

As I approach the swirling, glowing surface of the portal, I'm met with the familiar tingling sensation. First in the fingers and toes, like my nerve endings have been carbonated. Then the tugging sensation—right behind my belly button, like someone jammed a meat hook into my intestines and is yanking me into the plumbing of reality.

I take the last step into the light. Blue and gold explode behind my eyelids, flooding my brain with static and light. I lose all sense of my body.

Entering Dead World (Hollowed) #75.

When the light finally fades and I can feel my physical shape take form again, I'm standing on chrome.

Everything is… reflective.

I get why they call it the Chrome Forest.

The trees stretch upwards like coiled antennae, bark gleaming like wet titanium, their tinsel-leaf canopies rustling in a wind that hums in musical tones, like a thousand windchimes. Even the grass is reflective.

I crouch, press two fingers to the ground. It looks like it should slice me open, but a gentle touch of my fingers proves otherwise.

"Normal," I mutter. It feels soft, cool, slightly damp, which scrambles my brain when all my senses say it should be otherwise.

The Exploration Team takes point. They spit out instructions to the Extraction Team before the Party Leader, an older man with graying hair tied up into a man bun, raising a fist. "Eyes on me," he says, voice a raspy baritone.

He assigns each member of the Exploration Team with a position and task. They're coordinated and fast.

"The Quest has a specified target. Objective is elimination. Low-rank A loot, perhaps High B. We'll complete the Objective, accept the next Quest, but send one member back with the loot."

The Exploration Team confirms with a verbal affirmation in near unison.

I exchange a glance with one of the Extraction folks beside me. She shrugs. I didn't receive any System-generated Quest. It seems neither did she.

I think back to my other Extraction jobs. I hadn't received Quests those times either. Perhaps only the first party to enter a Gate received the Quest objectives?

The job is extremely boring as he trudge behind the Exploration Team. Still, I think of Liv and her strong aura and higher level, all thanks for training her Skills through use. I push focus into [Perception], determined to make some gains in this Gate one way or another.

The world around me sharpens.

My hearing isolates individual footsteps across the chrome ground. I can see the way the light plays off the tinsel leaves and catches the shimmer of movement behind the bushes—too subtle for normal eyes.

I spot the first monster ten seconds before the others, even those scouting for the Exploration Team. A chrome-plated ant the size of a Shetland pony, mandibles twitching as it pushes through a low bush.

"Contact left," I say. Just loud enough.

One of the Exploration guys pivots like he was waiting for it. A curved blade whips through the air and takes off a leg. The rest of his team fans out like a well-oiled machine and the ant's head pops like a bottlecap after a few more attacks.

Time for the Extraction squad!

We dash in, like trash pandas at a luxury buffet. I summon my Full Metal Staff, lifting it with both hands and jam one of the blunt ends into the soft underbelly.

Crack!

The shell gives. Green goop oozes from the caved-in carapace. I move around my staff until I dislodge a solid object. A core, the size of a bocce ball, glows faintly from the thing's cracked open chest. I reach down, picking up the core and depositing it into my Inventory. It vanishes into pixels of light with a satisfying shkk sound, leaving green ant ichor all over my hand. Grimacing, I wipe my palm on the side of my trench coat.

When I examine the ant's corpse, a [Loot] prompt appears. I accept, and am greeted with a System-generated window of text:

Metal Shell x2

Mandable x1

Without a second thought, I accept everything into my Inventory and move on.

The next ant shows up a minute later. This one is accompanied by a couple of friends. The Exploration Team makes easy work of these ants too. Then, we swoop in. This time, a couple of my freelancer coworkers handle the task of extracting the cores and looting the bodies. Eventually, we're into a rhythm.

After a couple hours of marching and slaying ants, something sets the hairs on the back of my neck on end. My arms turn into gooseflesh as my [Perception] flares.

I nervously glance ahead.

The Exploration Team is too close together. They're walking single file near a ridge where the grass is weirdly flat. I don't know why, but something itches at my brain. Then, I spot it. A shimmer—circular, almost imperceptible, at the base of the nearest tree.

I yell. "Trap! Right flank! Stop—don't take another step!"

One of the Exploration team members freezes mid-stride.

The ground explodes beneath her.

A massive spider launches from the hole like a jack-in-the-box of nightmares, legs sharp and glinting like surgical scalpels. A name flashes above its head:

Monster Identified: Trapdoor Miscreant, Level 18

Classification: Metal Instrument (Insect)

The woman screams, but only for a second.

The other five descend on the spider with practiced formations. A hammer slams down, pinning a leg. A bolt of ice freezes its abdomen. Someone casts some sort of debuff that makes its entire form twitch and hiss with static.

Thirty seconds later, the thing is a metallic smear. A dark gray stain on the once pristine chrome surface of the tree and grass on the side of our path.

The woman I saved turns to me, chest heaving, silver ichor spattered across her black armor. Her eyes meet mine, they're like stone but something—fear, I think—paints their edges.

"Thanks," she says.

I nod. "No problem. I'll add it to your tab."

She smirks.

And I can't help it—I feel like I just leveled up, even if the System didn't say so. I'm getting used to the subtle signals [Perception] sends me.

When we approach the party's Objective, I feel it before I hear the warning. It's a pulsing sensation in my core. A deep thrum that rattles my fillings and tightens the skin around my molars. That's my Aura Sense, I think.

"Boss monster ahead," one of Exploration Team's scouts announces, pointing forward like he's a human GPS.

Party Leader nods. "Objective one. We down it, grab the key to unlock the next Quest and secure the loot."

"Feeling like a big bonus opportunity," says one of the ladies near the back of Exploration Team. She's holding a wooden staff in her hands.

Whatever this Objective is, it's huge. The aura flares once more… then stays steady. Like a heartbeat I can't unhear. Each thrum vibrates my bones.

"Extraction hangs back. Stay safe, and on guard," says Party Leader.

With that, they jog ahead. The woman I saved from the trap-door spider turned and gives me a thumbs-up as she vanishes into the silver foliage. I return her thumbs-up with a faint smile and a nod of my head.

We wait… And wait.

The boss monster's aura pulses in the distance. Until suddenly I sense it fizzle, before fading altogether.

So, they killed it. Cool. Guess that's our cue to—nope! No cheers of victory, or signal to come in and assist with looting the monster's course.

Instead, we wait some more.

I start shifting from foot to foot. Everyone else is lounging, comfortably waiting for the Exploration Team to return to the clearing they left us in. One dude's eating jerky. Another's filing her nails. One guy's leaning against a metallic tree, trying his best not to doze off.

I can't take it anymore! Something is up…!

"I'm gonna go check on them," I say casually.

"Wait—we're not supposed to leave this position," one of the women says.

"Yeah," another adds. "Orders were to stay put."

"I know," I say, already jogging. "Thanks for the reminder!"

The forest thins out in the direction the Exploration Team headed to face the boss monster. The shiny trees give way to a wide clearing nestled against the foot of a jagged mountain wall.

And there it is: the boss monster. A gigantic chrome spider, legs curled up in the air. Dead. Stab wounds, scorch marks, and what looks like a frozen chunk of car hood embedded in its thorax. All in all, it looks like things went pretty good for the Exploration Team.

Then I notice the bodies.

Three of the Exploration Team lay dead around the spider's corpse. Their bodies are twisted, bent in unnatural angles.

Two others are breathing, but only barely. They're also crumpled onto the ground, having clearly given up the struggle to move, to fight or flee.

And the team leader? He's not so lucky.

He's being held up by his hair, man bun undone and the long strands of graying hair gripped tightly by fingers in black leather gloves.

The one doing the holding is a man in a long black jacket, like the dark version of my own outfit. Even beneath his jacket, I can tell he's well-muscled. Over his face he dons a black ski mask.

There are three others just like him, black body-length coats and everything. All similarly masked. One of them is using shredding dark cloth to wipe the clawed blades of a knuckle weapon clean. The torn cloth bears the insignia of the Municipal Guild.

Off to the side, a swirling, black portal, edged with crackling purple energy stands. The tear in reality has an almost oily surface. It looks unnatural hanging there in the air… Wrong.

I freeze.

My heart is pounding. My brain is racing, piecing together exactly what I'm looking at.

Gate Crashers!

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