For the next several miles, the interstate ran along the border between Texas and Mexico; and while there was a small town not far ahead, not half an hour past that was El Paso; which would bring him, finally, to the edge of Texas. They’d passed the first town with a bus station due largely to the fact it was on fire; dozens of buildings visibly burning, sirens everywhere, the sounds of gunshots in the distance…

  But when the next town seemed fairly peaceful, Marcus gave a nod. “If you wouldn’t mind stopping here, please. You can head on. I’m gonna go get some food, and then I’ll catch a bus, or something else, to California whenever one arrives.”

  She looked at him again, then out her window. “I… need to stop at a mechanic. The car’s sounding a bit funny. If I… end up staying the night, would you like to meet for dinner?”

  “You’ve got a wedding to get to tomorrow. If it takes that long, you should take the bus, like me… or hit the airport in El Paso. You could make it there by dinnertime, if the planes are still flying.”

  Would flying insects be as dangerous as ants? Was a jet going to get pounced on by a giant mosquito looking to drink its occupants?

  She gave a slow nod… and pulled off the interstate into town… and into the first gas station she saw. “I’ll see if they can give me directions to a mechanic. Good luck!”

  He nodded, smiling… and looked around. After he swapped, he wouldn’t want to use his powers any further. Part of him wanted to empty out his bank account before he kept going; but… he had other options.

  Dumping his revolvers into his storage space, he looked at the nearest hotel; not a fancy one, just a Best Western; and walked into the lobby, heading up to the counter, smiling at the man behind the desk; who looked at his bedraggled, bloody form for a moment. “Hello…. Sir. How may I help you?”

  He looked at the man, and gave a low sigh. “Look. I just had to fight about a thousand mutant ants, my car got totaled, and I just want to take a shower and relax for a few, then catch the next bus out of town in the morning. I don’t have a wallet, or any cards, or any ID; they literally got eaten. I’ve got cash, jewelry. I’ve got one of those extradimensional space things, hell, I could pay you in buckets of ice cream. What would it take to get me a room?”

  The man behind the counter looked him over for a few more seconds. “...If you don’t mind that you’re on video, and the cops will come looking for you? Pay the 60$ for the room and the 250$ extra cleaning deposit up front. If the room’s in decent shape when you leave and you didn’t steal anything, I’ll give you the 250 back after. Gotta warn you, though… I gotta report anybody who shows up here without a US ID or Visa. I doubt anyone is listening, but ICE might stop by in the morning.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Don’t really care. I’m an american. Have a house in Oregon I’m trying to get to. If I give you my address, can you just mail me a check after? Assuming the mail is still running.”

  The man blinked, looking confused. “I… suppose so.” He was looking at the money, and Marcus, oddly as he accepted the neat stack of 20s; and handed him a room key. “Room 214. Elevator is down the hall, it’ll be on your right.”

  ***

  He didn’t think getting cleaned up would matter, or wearing clothes for that matter. But he wanted to take a shower before he changed; and figured if he swapped into his boxers, worst case scenario, he lost a pair of boxers. The ‘new him’ could go shopping at Wal-mart tomorrow.

  As he stepped out of the shower, looking at the two queen-sized beds… he thought for a bit, in a moment of paranoia… and used both the bar and chain for the lock on the door… before pushing one of the two beds in front of it; the entryway of the room wasn’t as wide as the bed, so he had to lift up one side, and slide it in at an angle.

  It wouldn’t stop them from breaking in. But it would make it an absolute pain in the ass; they’d need to practically destroy the door, and crawl through. He should definitely be awake by then.

  He lay back on the bed, closing his eyes… and tried to focus. Wondering if, just maybe, he could trigger the effect, instead of having to wait to fall asleep naturally.

  ***

  He blinked. He seemed to be floating in a grey void, the box appearing before him… and when it vanished, he was surrounded by a circle of figures; most at least vaguely humanoid; and with some basic details above each. One of them, amusingly, was a clone of himself, and most of them were wearing his boxers.

  He was immediately able to ignore most of the races; the only ones that looked like good options were the serpents, the cats, and the elves. Whatever else he was, he wanted to be fast; with his weapons, quite often attacking first was all he needed to win.

  He selected the Elves to start off.

  He blinked. 13 less points of Stamina? That… was crazy. And if his math was right, elves had one less stat point than humans. Was that a big deal? He checked Catfolk and Serpentfolk next.

  That looked better. Less of a Stamina and Endurance loss, but even more agility. It seemed like a strong contender.

  Less strength. More endurance… but still not as much as a human. From what he’d been reading, ‘reflexes’ were a blend of both Agility and Mind, so catfolk would be better natural gunslingers. And spellcasting talent for movement and stealth? That might be exceptionally useful. Maybe he could be a focused gunslinger or sniper class, and still be able to climb walls, turn invisible?

  Sounded good. Should probably check? Would it give him any additional details about the whole ‘’side-effects’ bit?

  He cut if off there, not bothering to read the rest. Nightfire was a woman. God forbid some hormonal imbalance prevent him from killing her at the appropriate time. He wouldn’t accept only killing the Golden Boy.

  Serpentfolk it was. Now just to look at classes.

  Would it tell him what the best classes for killing people were?

  That… well. While Hybrid sounded like a good choice, in that being okay at everything was nice, it seemed as if ‘Warrior would be the best option. Some kind of Hitman, or Assassin, perhaps?

  Interesting. So. If he went Necromancer, he could build up an army of undead… create some catastrophe to draw in Nightfire and her friend. Then when they arrived to what they thought was a trivial effort, call down a horde. Even if he couldn’t control them, it wasn’t like he was trying to conquer the world; he would simply be unleashing them on some Chosen.

  Assassin, on the other hand, seemed as if it were also an excellent idea; if Serpentfolk already had poison abilities, would the Assassin’s class abilities augment them? Or make them irrelevant?

  Could he make a hybrid class, out of Assassin/Necromancer; or even something entirely unique, a hybrid class focused on animating undead and supporting them by attacking at range with poisoned bullets?

  Perfect. How would that make him improve with levels?

  Well then. A Serpentfolk Hand of Death. He’d kill enough humans to get the Slayer bonus, make sure to match up to them in levels… and build up an army of undead. He could stuff some into his storage unit for use in the field, if it worked that way, and then… just start preparing a trap.

  From here, today, square one… he’d prepare. He’d get them bogged down fighting zombie ants or something, get them tired and weak… and then take them down with a few precision poisoned rounds from the Right Hand of Death.

  First, though… they’d already been level 20, and fully decked out in rare gear. If this was anything like games, leveling would get slower with time, and he’d need to work hard. Focus that hate. Let it drive him to do whatever it took. He might never catch up... but he needed to get close enough, and learn enough about them to lure them into a trap.

  If there was a bit of collateral damage, well. So be it. Those 'Committee' assholes should have been more careful when picking their ‘Chosen’.