Sometimes putting one foot in front of the other is all you need.

  "...my quest is fucking detention. Are you kidding me? Go run on a treadmill of Lego, Greg." TJ groaned, folding his arms over his chest and closing his eyes. "Like, can you believe this bullshit, Uncle B? The dude kidnaps me out of my bed, so I miss school in the first place, and then doesn't even clear the punishment! There goes my clean record."

  Brom raised an eyebrow. "You get detention on the first unexcused absence? A bit harsh. I had to skip a bunch before I started getting it." He was thoughtful for a moment, drumming his fingers on his thigh. "Do they still use the second-floor science room for detention? If so, check the wall shelf in the back, third from bottom. Spent three months of Thursday afternoons carving my name in it with a paper clip."

  TJ looked over at him, both eyebrows raised. "That's dumb. They'd know it was you."

  "They never checked." He shrugged, walking back up into the house. "C'mon. No sense standing out here in our pjs." They looked silly out here on the lawn, especially TJ's cartoon hotdogs. That and it was cold this morning, the bite in the air not enough to trigger anything, but enough to pebble skin.

  The teen was still grumbling as they made it back in the house, wiping their feet on the doormat to clean the bits of lawn off. "So what's your quest?"

  Brom flexed a fist, the Grip rippling partly into view and then fading again. Practicing getting comfortable with it. "Feeding this thing."

  "Feeding it? Wait, wait, wait. The thing evolves!? Like it's one of those gluttony style powers? I've freaking seen those in anime!" TJ danced in front of Brom, grabbing his fist. "Lemme see. Like, maybe there's a clue?"

  "Kiddo, it's not like it's got a mouth on it." He flipped his palm up, and TJ froze for a second, the scar from the ring a silvery pink brand deep across the palm. Brom let the Grip out just to break the moment, smiling a little awkwardly. "See? It's not like there's any obvious place to just feed something in. Besides, I'm only guessing I feed it. It technically says 'Empower' but the description says these things crush and consume in pursuit of power. That's why I got the idea I need to feed them."

  TJ squinted at the metal and then let go of it, dodging cats as he headed for the stairs to change. "Yeah. I guess that makes sense. In games, usually you can smelt lower-grade stuff into higher-grade stuff. Same as in shows. It depends from media to media whether the weapon gains abilities from the previous one or whether its own stat line enhances. I guess that's something for you to figure out. Either way, I know somewhere you might be able to get more help."

  "Huh, you do?" Brom blinked, going to the bottom of the stairs to continue the conversation as TJ kept climbing.

  "Yeah, you won't like it, though. It used to be the Autobody."

  The Jones Family Smithy. TJ was right, Brom didn't like it. He still wasn't sure he was ready to sort out those feelings. Especially after last night, ripping everything open and leaving all his emotions raw and oozing. Confronting the things that used to be his mother and father, now reduced to shop interfaces. He hadn't been back since that day he'd left Jason there. He just... couldn't. Not yet.

  "Yeah, I think I'll explore other opportunities first."

  He didn't blame the kiddo. It was a logical leap to make. Brom hadn't actually looked into the equipment scene much, he didn't know what was available to someone. He did know he had a ton of raw materials in stacks in his inventory. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be in danger of running out of space. Really, he should look into dealing with those, however, that was definitely a future Brom problem. Present Brom had enough on his plate without wondering if Siren's Blood and Dead Men's Fingernails mixed together into a super potion.

  Right now, the Grip itself was his chief focus. It responded to his will just like a muscle would. Flexing it in and out of existence was awkward in a strange and unnatural way. Like manual breathing almost. It felt like these things would get to the point where they knew when they were needed and how much of them was needed. Like his focus on them was hampering rather than helping. It was a gut instinct on his part, nothing backing it up. Which meant it could just as easily be gas or wishful thinking.

  He could hear the sounds of the water running, TJ showering. The kid took forever when he started getting ready. Brom didn't think about it too much, he'd been young once, too. It was the same reason that now that TJ was apparently moved in, Brom didn't go anywhere near his door without being ready to knock. Teenagers needed space and privacy to grow.

  Flopping on his own bed, earning a disgruntled noise from Alice who'd been blending in with his pillows, Brom allowed himself a moment to process the morning and to stare at the unchanging words of the quest.

  "...hey. System. You out there?" It was a Hail Mary, but he'd had worse ideas.

  Hey Bro! Sweet new armament. Totally probably not broken or anything, right?

  Yeah, that wasn't subtle or anything. Brom had already gathered that these things were, as Greg had put it, something special. "Totally. Probably. Anyway, how do I Empower them? Got any ideas? Oh, and nothing boring, or the Viewers will probably skin us both alive."

  Nah brah, not a chance. You're a ratings darling right now. Viewership has never been better! Like, you broke a record with the Anchor Stream. Nobody expected something like that this early into the game! It was a real tear-jerker. You totally nailed it. Right now, you can do no wrong. We've got Viewers clamoring for slice-of-life streams. Just like you combing your hair. You choosing your clothes. You sleeping. The big ones are for cooking and cat streams though.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "...if you start spying on my private life, then I quit life. You got it?" Brom was not signing up to be the next Truman Show.

  Got it. Got it. Nobody's approved anything like that, and we won't without your consent. We only tune in during quests, dungeons, events, and raids. Not during downtime. It's an unspoken rule.

  "So you guys do know what consent is, amazing." Because so far, the System and all of its components seemed very 'tell, don't ask'. He rubbed his hands over his face, scowling at his own stubble. He needed a shave and a haircut. "Anywho, I wanted to ask you for a quest hint. How do I Empower this thing?" He pointed to a fist, the armor flicking over it as he clenched his fingers.

  Bro, I can't do tips and tricks. That's interference! A big no-no. You gotta go out there and figure it out for yourself. Get real hands-on with things, you know? Success always feels better when you earn it yourself. More rewarding when you seize it yourself.

  "I got it. I got it." He'd never gotten an equipment reward from any of the regular dungeons, just experience. Whether that was because he was on the higher end or was just unlucky, he didn't know. All his rewards had come from quests and the event dungeon.

  Idly, he opened the Knowledge Base, paging through it. There had to be something in here, anything, that would keep him from having to visit the animated shells of his parents and the Smithy they ran. He was probably missing something really, really obvious.

  Knuckles rapped his door, and he craned his head up, looking at a still steaming TJ leaning around the edge of the doorway. "Yeah?"

  "Shower's free. I'm going to get in some more archery practice on the stump. Oh, and can we hit up South Access? I wanna see if there are any low-level Instances out there and get some practical experience."

  Brom sat bolt upright, spooking Alice, who'd just started to make her way over for cuddles. He reached out, giving an apology scratch, then looked back at his nephew. "TJ, you're a genius! Instances! Instances are the answer!"

  He hadn't gone into an instance since Section A at the dump almost three weeks ago. The reward for that Instance hadn't been very great, just some XP and mob drops that were living in his inventory, but he knew for a fact that some Instances gave equipment. He'd heard the Guards and the Sheriffs both talking about them, mapping them. Which meant if he reached out to his contacts, someone would be able to point him in the right direction and give him a heads up of what was inside.

  TJ just stared at Brom like he'd lost his mind. "Uh, sure. If you say so. Anyway, I'll be in the yard if you need me." With that, he slapped the door to punctuate his exit and slipped out, leaving his uncle to his revelations.

  Brom shot him a thumbs up, already scrolling through his Friends List. He had several Guards' details listed, but there was only one he knew he could reach out to, and no matter what was going on, he'd get at least a polite answer. Rather than try for a video chat, he simply sent a message that Jonesy could look at whenever, asking the Sergeant if he knew of any Instances that dropped weapons, and if they could give him a heads up on what to expect in the ones that did.

  He must have caught Jonesy at a good time because ten minutes later, a small list of five options was waiting for him.

  "Hmm... let's see. There's the Cold Bay Library, Nonfiction Section. Animated tomes and a Dewey Decimal System-based puzzle. Pass." Unless they were providing Brom with flash cards, he had no idea how the non-fiction section worked in a library. He'd always just bummed study materials off other, smarter people. "Pine Street Playground, creepy attack dolls, and a hallucination maze. Right, I think I've had my fill of childhood trauma this week, next."

  He juggled between the last three options. The Bayside Animal Shelter apparently had an Instance that featured a gauntlet of were-creatures. Pacific Plants was a landscaping supply and nursery that had a greenhouse now full of man-eating magical flora. And of course, his least favorite, Cold Bay Cemetery's Old Section, featured creepy mist, moving headstones, and the undead. Despite the best efforts of the tutorial, Brom still hated skeletons. But he'd punched enough dead shit in the past few weeks, he no longer feared it like he once had.

  He stood, opening his closet and reaching in, hand finding an Iron Maiden tee and staring at Eddie. A smile twitched on his face, and he nodded slowly but surely. "...am I really going to go punch the shit out of skeletons over creepy dolls?"

  You bet your sweet ass he was.

  He felt so much better now that he had a plan. Even if that plan didn't work. Greg's words had unsettled him. Knowing that something was coming, something that a God was giving warnings about. No doubt as their quests progressed, they'd learn more about it. Brom gave an involuntary shiver as he got ready. The last time he'd tangled with the creepy cult of senior citizen nautical enthusiasts... his eyes flicked to the whistle that dangled from his wrist. Yeah, worse than the boat-eating ship-shark?

  "...I'm going to need so much eye bleach after this, aren't I?" He glanced over to where Alice was still sprawled on the bed, watching him. "I might have to get a sixth cat to help cope."