Guardian Angel Chapters 1, 2 and 3 (Patreon)

So, in the comments for the first chapter of Bodyguard one of you lovely people said that it "Would be much more interesting if Ana simply snapped [Nic's] neck [...]". That's not quite what happens, but here, for your consideration, is the "gritty reboot" of Bodyguard. I went with one of the litRPG staples of simply naming the story for the now sole MC's class, since Nic is not going to have a good time.

I've adapted the first three chapters of Bodyguard, which was surprisingly easy and, most importantly, fun! I also went a little harder on Ana not being the most well-adjusted young woman out there.

This is pretty raw. I haven't done a serious second editing sweep, so there may be some glaring errors in here, but on the bright side you get something like 7000 words of story, System messages not included. Speaking of which, apologies for the formatting on the Summary. Patreon doesn't like tabs, for some reason.

Chapter 1.

Nicola Stamper was having a good time. No, a great time! He was in an exclusive nightclub, he was with his friends, he had his dad’s credit card in his pocket, and he had a beautiful girl sitting next to him. But with great credit limits came great bottle orders. Nicola had had too much to drink. Nic was not feeling so great.

He turned to Stacy, his “girlfriend,” and saw her looking at him funny for a moment, her head nodding quickly towards the door before she went back to the ditzy girl that all his friends knew. “Sorry, boys,” she cooed, her voice cutting through the music. “I’ve gotta take this one home before he becomes completely useless.” She smiled suggestively as she took his arm and hoisted him to his feet, to the cheers and jeers of his friends. “Go easy on him, Stace!” someone called, and she stuck her tongue out at the speaker, her eyes smoldering in a way that almost made Nic jealous.

God, she’d been perfect tonight, hadn’t she? Touchy, just clingy enough, talking him up to his friends, making nice with their girls… should he go for it? The piss said yes, definitely! But there were good reasons not to, weren’t there? He knew her too well, didn’t he? Or rather, he knew about her. He wasn’t sure that anyone actually knew Stacy. Maybe his dad did? Anyway, no. Terrible idea. He’d seen what she could do.

As Stacy straightened Nic’s shirt he was vaguely aware of her glancing at someone and jerking her head towards the door. Oh, right. Charlie. Charlie was here. Of course.

“Come on, big boy,” Stacy said just slightly too loudly, nestling in next to him so his arm was over her shoulders and her own around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The man at the door let them out with a respectful, “Good night, sir. Madam,” and they were outside in the cool air of a London summer night. Nic stood unsteadily, leaning on Stacy and unsure what had just happened. They’d been drinking, talking about getting a couple of chalets in Switzerland for winter…

“Charlie will be here with the car in five minutes,” Stacy said into his ear, her voice all business now. “Think you can stay on your feet that long?”

“Yes,” he stated confidently as his left knee almost buckled, and Stacy had to steady him. He looked at her as he tried to figure out if he should go in the alley to vom, go take a piss, or try to do neither so he didn’t disgust Stacy. Fucking hell, she was well fit, wasn’t she, with her sidecut and her tight purple dress and her yank accent and her ink? Yeah, she was a little older, but, like, hot older. It almost made him wish she really was his girlfriend. But she wasn’t. It was important to remember that, but it was also important that other people think so. Oh yes. Very important.

“Aaaaay, Nicky-booooy!”

There came a holler from the club entrance. Aston and his girl Tricia had come out, and they were coming over. Shite! Had to sell it, right? He was supposed to tell her first, but…

“Sorry about this, love,” Nic mumbled, bent way down, and pressed his lips to Stacy’s.

  *

Anastasia Cole was not having a good time, but it was about to get better. In a few minutes Charles would bring the car around. He’d drop Ana off at her apartment, and she could finally get out of this ridiculous dress and these idiotic shoes, get cleaned up, and sleep for the next ten hours. Maybe have some hot cocoa at some point. With marshmallows.

Well, that wasn’t quite fair to the outfit. She liked the dress, and the shoes were not too uncomfortable for a 3 inch heel. She just disliked the context in which she wore them. Who she needed to be to sell the illusion of “Stacy.”

In any case, Nic would soon be Charles’ problem. Until the next time he wanted to go out, that was, which mercifully wasn’t that often. And in only a few weeks the boy would be off to college. No, “university”. He’d already been to “college.” After years in Britain she still wasn’t used to the lingo. Once the semester started she’d only have to deal with him a few times per year, and what a relief that would be. Playing besties with socialites was exhausting, but not Nic-level exhausting.

To be fair, tonight hadn’t been as bad as it might have been. Nic had neither hit on any other women in front of her or thrown up down the front of her dress, so that was something. 

“Aaaay, Nicky-boooy!”

Ana threw a glance at whoever that was, her left hand going to the clasp of her purse, but it was only Nic’s friend Aston and his girl-of-the-moment Patricia. Ana didn’t like surprises, but they were both drunk and unlikely to cause any trouble. Everything was fine. Then Nic spoke.

“Sorry about this, love.”

Ana didn’t like surprises. When she turned to look up at Nic and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, mashing his lips against hers, she very nearly took him down.

It wasn’t the fact that he kissed her. She had kissed him before. Many, many times. They were posing as a steady couple, after all, and physical affection was an important part of selling that. Neither was he a terrible kisser, so it wasn’t exactly a burden. But they had a procedure. He was supposed to telegraph or explicitly ask her — in an appropriately romantic way — ahead of time. That way she could act appropriately. As it was she froze for a moment before relaxing against him and responding, and she had to hope that Aston and Patricia were too drunk to notice the lapse.

But she could handle that surprise, annoying as it was. What she could not handle was the way she, a couple of seconds in, suddenly felt faint. The way her knees went weak. It was like the world had dropped out beneath her, and Nic was the only point of stability that existed. Was she—? No. Surely not? She had kissed a lot of people, and she would be damned if this brat—

Ana's hands hit the floor hard, the air leaving her lungs with a pained gasp. She hadn’t even known that she was falling, but Nic took the brunt of it. She felt something cold and smooth against the backs of her hands, nothing like the pavement she would have expected, and when she checked her surroundings everything was wrong. It was dark. There were no streetlights, though she could see the flickering lights of small fires — torches? — nearby, visible which lit up a faint haze in the air. They were surrounded by tall standing stones, and beyond those, trees, and the air smelled like pine and leaves, ozone and sulfur.

This was all wrong.

All right, she told herself. Stay calm. Assess the situation.

First, the client. Nic was under her, out cold, but looking otherwise unharmed. With any luck he wouldn’t throw up and drown himself before she could figure this out.

Second, the situation. Outside the city. No idea what happened, and no immediate way to figure that out. Drugs? Gas? Leave it for later.

Third, threat assessment.

“It worked! Aha-ha, it worked!” A mad, high-pitched cackle came from somewhere to her left. She freed her hands from under Nic and pushed herself up to her knees. Her wrists and elbows felt fine, so she probably hadn't injured anything. In fact, she felt strong and whole, like she could take her heels off right now and run a marathon.

“Go!” the voice chortled. “Take the boy and prepare him! Soon—”

“My lord,” came a different, lower voice. “There’s two of them!”

“What?” said the first voice. Sitting up, Anastasia saw three figures, but the light was behind them and while their silhouettes were clear, she couldn’t see any detail. “Oh, so there is,” the voice continued, sounding bored now. “Prepare the boy. Do as you wish with the girl.”

“As you say, my lord,” said a third voice. Ana did not like the leer implicit in his tone at all.

As two of the figures began to approach, Ana pulled out the very illegal semi-automatic pistol she kept in her purse, racked it and flicked off the safety with a practiced motion, and trained it on them. “Stop right there, or I will shoot,” she said, making sure to be loud and clear. No room for misinterpretation. One of the men hesitated, looking confused but not afraid, and they came on. She gave them two more steps to change their minds.

The pistol barked and bucked in her hand, the comfortable, acrid smell of gunpowder quickly crowding out the scents of the forest. Eight-seven, six-five. Five rounds left. The man on the left stopped on the spot, looking down with a confused moan before he dropped. The other continued forward. The pistol barked again, and he fell six feet from her and Nic. Four rounds left.

“Stay where you are,” Ana ordered the third figure. With her pistol trained on him she slowly got to her feet.

“What—?” the figure said, then seemed to recover. “Useless thugs,” he mumbled, seemingly to himself, as Ana circled to get a better look at her opponent. “Have to do everything myself these days…”

With the light no longer directly behind the man, Ana could see that he was old. He had a neatly trimmed, gray beard, and was wearing a fancy robe of some sort, like he’d just come from a costume party. That mattered little, however, as he reached to his belt and drew what was, unmistakably, a long, thin sword.

“Drop it,” Ana instructed him. “I will not warn you again.”

“Foolish girl,” the man sneered and took a step forward. “What those two would have done to you will pale —”

Three-two-one. Two in the chest, one in the head. One round left. Nine more in the mag in her purse.

There was a blue shimmer around the man as the first bullet hit him. Then he dropped like someone had flipped his switch to “off,” his sword clattering to the ground.

Ana’s vision blurred slightly around the edges. She blinked as she approached each of the fallen men, checking for a pulse before proceeding to the next. The blurriness didn’t seem to want to go away, so she rolled her eyes, which sometimes worked. When her eyes reached either lower diagonal direction, text scrolled into her vision.

[Congratulations! You have defeated: Human Summoner (22); Human Cultist (10); Human Cultist (12). You have been awarded: Growth Crystal (Major); Growth Crystal (Minor); Growth Crystal (Lesser).

Attention: Growth Crystals are set to auto-consume. You have been awarded 1100 experience points.

No Class detected. Class set to Guardian Angel, based on memories, aptitudes, and life experience.

Congratulations! You have reached Guardian Angel, level 3. 6 cumulative advancement points awarded.

You have joined the Party of Anastasia Cole, Human Companion (3).]

When she read that line, the world stopped. Her vision was completely filled by a translucent field of information. She couldn’t hear, smell, or feel anything. She couldn’t move, frozen in a crouch with her hand on the neck of the old guy with the sword. She couldn’t even breathe, but after a few moments she realized that she didn’t feel a need to. It was literally as though time had stopped, except for her mind.

[Advancement initialized. System insertion detected. Partial calibration performed. Skills not compatible with this World detected. Incompatible Skills not included in Summary.

INDIVIDUAL SUMMARY

Name: Anastasia Cole

Race: Outsider, Summoned (Human aspect)

Age: 26

Classes: Guardian Angel (3) (Hidden, shown as Companion (3))

Experience: 400/800

Attributes: Base Multiplier Effective

Strength: 14 1  14

Endurance: 18 1   18

Vitality:   15 1   15

Agility:  18 1   18

Dexterity: 15 1   15

Perception: 13 1   13

Acuity:  13 1   13

Willpower: 15 1   15

Charisma: 18 1  18

Connection: 13 1   13

Advancement Points: 6

Abilities:

Hidden Class (Guardian Angel)

Guardian Angel

Devotion

Danger Sense (Special)

Skills:  Level

Command 2

Inspect  1

[Note: Skills only partially calibrated. Please use known skills to continue calibration.]

[You have 6 Advancement Points available. Please spend Advancement Points now!]

You have 6 Advancement Points available. Please spend Advancement Points now!]

“What kind of nerd shit is this?” Ana grumbled silently to herself. For probably the first time in her life she wished that Nic was awake, and that she could ask him if he knew what was going on. He understood this stuff. He’d even drag her along when he played his pretend games with his nerd friends, and she'd be the picture of polite disinterest, looking pretty while playing with her phone.

To be fair, they had all had fun, nobody got drunk, and nobody tried to feel her up. All in all, those nights were among the better social events Nic had taken her to, much better than when he went out with his friends from "college."

[You have 6 Advancement Points available. Please spend Advancement Points now!]

She still couldn’t move. The text wanted her to do something and she had a feeling that she wouldn’t be free until she did it, but she had no idea how.

“How do I do that?” she tried to say, but thinking it seemed to be enough. “What are these points?”

[Advancement Points are earned by gaining Class levels, or by completing certain achievements. Advancement Points must be spent if possible on gaining a Class level. Advancement Points are used to increase Attribute Multipliers.]

“All right,” she sighed mentally. “Boost my fucking… perception, I guess, as much as possible, and let me try to fix this.”

[Perception Multiplier increased to 1.3 for a total of 6 Advancement Points. New effective Perception: 16.9.

You have no Advancement Points to spend. Advancement finalized.]

She could finally move again. She quickly walked back to Nic. He still lay exactly where she'd left him, not having reacted to the gunshots at all. When she got closer, she saw why.

There was a dark patch spreading slowly around Nic's head. He was breathing, but when she lifted his eyelids he didn't react. He didn't focus. His pupils were unevenly dilated, which was a really bad sign, and when she shone her phone’s flashlight into his eye, nothing happened. When she pressed hard on his nail beds, he didn't so much as twitch.

With a sinking feeling Ana reached one hand around the back of Nic's head and probed gently. His skull gave a little in a way that a skull is definitely not supposed to.

"Shit," Ana hissed to herself, digging out her iPhone from her purse. No signal. She dug Nic's phone out of his jacket, holding it up to his face to unlock it. Same problem. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Nic's dad, her employer, was not going to like this at all. And for all that he loved his son and took good care of his employees, Carl Stamper was a very, very bad man. She had known that since the night she met him. It had been pretty obvious. Good men did not have a habit of helping teenage street rats cover up crimes, especially when that crime was stabbing a man to death behind an IHOP.

The dead man had robbed her, smacked her around, and was probably intending to do worse, but still.

Mr. Stamper had been very good to her. He'd helped her get her GED, had taught her or had her taught all kinds of things, and even helped her immigrate to the UK to work for him. For years, he'd been like the father she'd never had. That wouldn't stop him from feeding her to his pigs when he found out that his precious boy had gotten brain damaged on her watch. She wasn’t exaggerating, either. Protecting VIPs wasn’t all he did. He’d never asked Ana to help out with the less legal side of his business, but she knew all about it.

God damnit. Nothing was going to fix this. She was going to have to disappear. But she couldn't just leave Nic the way he was.

She got up, her body feeling heavy despite the rush she'd felt before. On the ground nearby she saw one of the long daggers the first two men had carried, so she fetched it and crouched by Nic's side.

He wasn't a bad kid. He could, very occasionally, get a little grabby when he was drunk, but that was it. His worst crime was his taste for all things nerdy, and honestly she liked his nerd friends better than his party friends.

She stroked his carefully styled and then carelessly ruined hair back gently, and looked into his eyes for any sign of actual consciousness. She went through all the tests again. Nothing.

"Sorry about this, Nic," she whispered. Then she drove the dagger into his heart. He jerked once, then again. Then he sort of shuddered for a few seconds. A little later he stopped breathing.

He never made a sound until the breath left him, and his eyes never changed. That made her feel a little better.

Chapter 2.

Ana woke up to pale morning light and birdsong, and a burning in her eyes. She'd never washed off her make-up — not like there was any remover or any cotton pads here — and now her mascara was trying to kill her. Fucking great!

She squeezed her eyes shut and wiped away what she could, but the damage was done. She'd just have to grit her teeth and bear it until the tears did their job. At least there was no one here to see the mess she'd made of her face.

Poor Nic. He'd deserved better. Now he lay in a pile in the bushes with the three assholes, where she'd left them after stripping them of anything of value. Not that there'd been much, but she'd found some small leather pouches of coins, which she took. They were weird, but they looked like they may be real gold and silver. She'd also taken Nic's cash, which was quite a few quid, even after a night out. She left his cards, his driver's license, and his phone. She didn't want anything on her that might connect her to him.

She'd found a small camp nearby, where she'd also found the men's packs. The three men had only brought supplies for a short hike and a single night, judging by the food she’d found. That meant that they couldn’t be too far from people. Or at least, so Ana hoped. All that she found was some food, a few tools and basic camping gear — primitive, really — a thick, black book that looked like it might be valuable, and luckily, a spare robe. She'd put that on immediately, the air here being considerably more chilly than the London summer night she'd come from, and her wearing only a much too thin lavender party dress. The robe hung loosely on her, but it would do.

She'd slept in a kind of sleeping bag which was pretty much just two furs sewn together, but it was warm and soft, so she'd wrapped herself up in it. She'd have preferred not to sleep, alone in a strange place, but she'd had a long day followed by a long night, and she was completely exhausted. She was a light sleeper and had her gun ready, so she'd been safe enough. Now that it was morning she rolled it up and packed it with the rest of what she'd take.

Her heels also went in the pack. Even walking barefoot would have been better than trying to make her way through the forest in those. None of the dead men’s boots had fit her, and Nic’s massive loafers were right out, but luckily she had plenty of unused cloth lying around in the form of their robes. She cut long strips from one and wrapped her feet, packing the rest for spare material. She'd gotten pretty good at that on the street, where she’d had her shoes stolen more than once.

She considered strapping on the sword, but beyond “stick ‘em with the pointy end” she didn't know how to use one, so it went in the pack, the hilt sticking out the top. She did, however, put both of the daggers on a belt under the robe. She could use those. She'd rather not, but she could, though as long as she had her gun it shouldn't come to that. She had one mag of nine rounds left, and one single round in the spare. That should be plenty.

After a light breakfast of dried meat, bread, and cheese, and water from a nearby brook that she prayed wouldn’t make her sick, she threw on the pack. Morning calisthenics were out: she was not doing goddamn burpees in the forest in a party dress. Other than that break with routine, she was feeling pretty good, all things considered. Sure, she could never go back to London. It would probably be better to leave the UK entirely and go back to the US. And the whole thing with Nic had been pretty sad. On the bright side, she wouldn't have his whining to ruin what looked like a pretty nice hike through a beautiful old-growth forest.

Now she just needed to convince herself that she wasn't insane.

That might be tricky. Hiking left her plenty of time to think, and most of those thoughts revolved around the fact that she'd seen, or thought that she'd seen, a bunch of weird text last night, telling her that she had gained experience, that she had a bunch of Attributes, and that she had to spend points. Text that had frozen time until she did what it wanted her to. She wasn't completely ignorant. She'd spent just under a year as Nic's politely interested — meaning “actually not, but if it makes him happy…” — “girlfriend,” long enough to have picked up the basics of D&D. And Dark Heresy. And some robot game called Lancer and a bunch of other games Nic played. She'd sometimes amused herself by asking Nic's friends which D&D they were playing that night, to see which of them was the worst at hiding their annoyance. She didn’t see why Nic needed a bodyguard with him to play pretend with math, but Mr. Stamper insisted, and she got her fun where she could.

The point was that she'd become involuntarily familiar with role-playing games. She knew about Classes, and Attributes, and skills and all that. But having it pop up right in front of your eyes, telling you that you got stronger by killing three men, was not a sign of a healthy mind.

Ana couldn’t just tell herself that she’d imagined it, though. She had two pieces of internal evidence that she couldn’t ignore. First, while she’d been reading all of the text, the world had literally stopped. Second, when she was done, and had been told that her perception was better, her perception actually had been better. The dark had had more shades of darkness, letting her see more detail even though the light was no brighter, and everything had been just a bit sharper.

Besides that, there was external evidence. She was suddenly in a new, unfamiliar place. There were none of the after effects that she’d expect if she’d been drugged, and the men that had attacked her had acted as though Nic and she had just appeared. Even if this had been some bizarre prank, she had shot three men dead, and no one had come running in a panic calling for an ambulance and trying to talk her down.

So, for now she had to proceed with the assumption that everything was real, and that the text was there, and that weird shit was going to continue happening. That meant that she should figure out the situation better. The first time she took a rest, sitting down on an old log, she brought up her Summary again. It took a couple of attempts, but she figured out how. After asking out loud, “How do I get to see that damn individual thing again?” she got a notification in her peripheral vision. It said:

[Individual Summary is displayed by invoking Individual Summary.]

This was about as helpful as saying, “Do it by doing it,” but when she thought the words with enough will behind it the text popped up. This time, though, everything in the world continued as normal behind the text. Bugs buzzed by, trees swayed in the breeze, and birds sang.

“What do the Attributes do?”

The Summary was replaced by a list of descriptions:

[Strength: Affects the maximum amount of force your muscles can generate.

Endurance: Affects your ability to maintain physical exertion, as well as your ability to stave off the effects of hunger, thirst, and exposure to the elements.

Vitality: Affects your ability to withstand physical harm, disease, and poison, as well as your ability to recover from such effects.

Agility: Affects your general ability to control your body, as well as your ability to track your body’s relative position in space.

Dexterity: Affects your hand-eye coordination, as well as your ability to perform single or multiple simple or complex actions with one or both hands.

Perception: Affects your ability to sense and interpret stimuli of any kind.

Acuity: Affects your clarity of thought, your mental quickness, and your ability to keep track of and order information.

Willpower: Affects your ability to resist your own impulses and external manipulation, as well as your ability to resist mentally harmful effects.

Charisma: Affects your force of personality, as well as your ability to recover from mentally harmful effects.

Connection: Affects the strength of your connection to the World Soul, as well as your ability to draw on and manipulate that connection.]

“All right,” she muttered after reading everything, and went back to the Summary. “Better check out the rest, I guess. What’s my race mean? Outsider?”

[Outsider, Summoned (Human aspect): You are a creature from outside of this plane of existence, summoned for a specific purpose. You may or may not be bound to do your Summoner’s bidding, or to perform a specific task. You are physiologically indistinguishable from a Human, and any inspection save for particularly powerful inspection abilities or spells will return you as Human.]

She snorted. Apparently she wasn’t even human anymore. She could live with that. Outsider. It fit. Sometimes she felt a little like an alien who’d come to Earth to observe the humans and their weird little lives. She’d never fully felt like one of them. There were so many things you were supposed to do and have as human that she simply didn’t.

“All right. What do my Class and abilities do?”

[Guardian Angel (Paragon): Due to your exceptionally high moral standards and willingness to sacrifice for the sake of the well-being of others, you have become a paragon of selflessness and devotion. You are devoted to one or a small group of individuals, and none shall harm them so long as you draw breath. Special: As a reward for your self-sacrifice, each Attribute’s base value increases by 1 for every level you gain in this Class.

Hidden Class (Guardian Angel): This Class may be hidden from inspection. While hidden, the related Class levels will be shown as belonging to another Class appropriate to you. This ability can be disabled for any and all other individuals as desired. Note: This ability is ineffective against particularly powerful inspection abilities or spells.

Devotion: You are devoted to one or a small group of individuals. You are always in a Party with the objects of your devotion, and can sense their direction relative to you and their general condition. You gain extra Growth Crystals when defending an object of devotion. These Growth Crystals are bound to you, and cannot be traded. You cannot willingly allow your objects of devotion to come to harm. If you have no object of devotion, you can bond with an individual by swearing your life to them. This bond can only be broken by your death or theirs, or if they formally dismiss you. You can have a maximum of 1 bond. Maximum number of bonds increases with Class level. Current objects of devotion: Anastasia Cole.

Guardian Angel: While within 3 feet of an object of devotion you can absorb any harm meant for them, including magical or physical attacks or poison. While fighting to defend an object of devotion the base value of each Attribute counts as 3 points higher. All values increase with Class level.

Danger Sense (Special): You have a subconscious and supernatural ability to sense when an object of your devotion is in danger, so long as they are within 30 yards of you and the origin of the danger is within 3 feet of them. Ranges increase with Class level.]

“Objects of devotion, Anastasia Cole… how the hell does that work?” she said to herself, but she wasn’t going to argue. If she was bound only to herself that was an absolute victory as far as she was concerned. It wasn’t like she disliked all people. She liked Mr. Stamper, and she was very grateful to him. She liked some of her colleagues. And she’d liked Nic, when he wasn’t being an annoying or grabby little shit. She’d just rather not be stuck to anyone. It made things messy.

But if all this was real, and if she understood everything correctly, then she was always going to know if someone close to her was a threat. And as long as she was fighting to defend herself — which, if she was in a fight, or course she would be doing that — she’d get stronger.

Something must have gone very wrong, and in her favor. She was all for it.

A fairly clear path led away from the stone circle and the camp through the forest. It passed a large stream with a simple wooden bridge, where Ana refilled the waterskins she’d taken, and about an hour and a half after her first rest she arrived at a dirt road. Around that time she really started to wonder where the hell she was. She didn’t think they had forests like this in England. Since she had no way of knowing which way to go, and she didn’t want to wait for who knew how long for a passer-by to ask, she went north-west, for the simple reason that it kept the sun mostly at her back.

The road was wide for a dirt track, maybe eight or nine yards, but the forest packed in close on each side, and she kept a watchful eye on the trees and bushes. After perhaps two hours of walking, and a short break to eat something and rest her feet, her vigilance was rewarded.

Chapter 3.

The moment Ana saw a man standing in the shadow of one of the many trees that vaulted the road, she reached into her purse with both hands and racked her gun. Either he wouldn't notice, or he would, and he'd be more careful.

When he noticed her looking his way he pushed away from the tree casually and stepped into the road, about 30 yards ahead of her.

Sure. He might just want to say “Hello.” He might even be helpful. But Ana doubted it, and when she saw his face properly those doubts grew to near certainty. She knew a predator when she saw one. She stopped close enough to speak, but far enough away to draw and fire in case he suddenly came at her. Freeing herself to move, she made a show of taking off her bulky pack, sighing and rubbing her shoulders.

“Hello!” the stranger said with a smile. “May I say, Miss, that you look lost?”

The man's whole appearance was odd. Honestly he looked like something out of that D&D movie that had just come out. Which Nic had made her watch. Twice. He had a large pack leaning against the tree, and over a green shirt and gray trousers he wore leather armor that covered his entire torso, with flaps that hung down over his hips and thighs. On one hip he carried a sword, and on the other a small crossbow. He looked a bit dirty, his long brown hair hanging limp and greasy, but he radiated friendliness in a way that put Ana immediately on edge.

Something else that she didn't really like was that when Ana focused on him there was even a little tag that said [Human Ranger (7)]. More weird text, just hanging there and impossible to ignore.

“Oh, not really,” Ana said in a bright, cheerful voice. It wasn’t quite her Stacy voice. It was her “playing nice” voice, the one that she used a lot with people who weren’t actually bothering her yet. “I'm just trying to get to town. You wouldn’t happen to know the way, would you?”

“First time Delving?” the man asked with a chuckle. “And not by choice, I’d wager. If you belonged here, you’d know that there’s no town, just the outpost. And if you’ll allow me to be so rude, I can see your Class and your level plain as day. There’s no need to hide it, Miss. People drop into splinters by accident sometimes. It happens.”

Shit. Of course he could see that stuff. If he had a label, it only made sense that so would she. Her mind raced. Her Class and race were supposed to be hidden, so she was supposed to show as a human “Companion,” which sounded vaguely insulting but ultimately harmless. And her level was less than half of his, which sounded like it should make a difference. All right. Fine. Ana could play the damsel in distress, and as long as she didn't give him a chance to try anything she might come out of this with something useful.

“Well,” Ana said bashfully, “you caught me, I guess. Can you show me to this outpost, then? I’d be so grateful.”

“There’s no shame in it,” the man continued, making no move to lead the way, his eyes flicking away from her every so often. She didn't like that. “You’re hardly the first to—”

Out of nowhere, Ana's lizard brain screamed “Danger!” Before she knew what she was doing she'd dropped and twisted, coming face to groin with a second man whose arms closed in the air above her head.

She considered herself to be an alert and perceptive person. As a teenager it had kept her alive and mostly unharmed. But she'd had no idea that the man trying to grab her was there until the warning bells went off, and for the moment, no matter what was going on with her brain she was glad for it.

The man grunted with frustration, and Ana's instincts and training took over. She felt a surge of strength, and she used it. A savage elbow strike to the side of one knee made it buckle and the man gasp, but as Ana tried to put some distance between them he used the fall to get on top of her, pinning her to the ground for a moment. She tried to push him off, but he pinned her right hand with his left. He had a dagger on his belt, but they must have wanted her alive because instead of drawing it, he rose enough to punch her in the face first once, then twice.

She took it. She'd had worse. The purse had ended up trapped under her back, but she dug her free hand inside her robe. Her fingers closed around the handle of one of her daggers, and as the man's hand rose to strike her again she stabbed him, up and in under the ribs, five, six, seven times in rapid succession, the blade sliding in and out easily. The man made a horrible, hoarse sucking sound as blood gushed out of him and all over Ana's looted robe and nice, lavender dress.

He still tried to hit her, but she easily pushed him to the side and got her legs free, turning to get eyes on the first man just in time to catch a boot in the ribs. The kick was so hard that she felt something give, and it lifted her in the air and threw her back at least a yard or two.

For a moment all she could do was to gasp and grab at her side, which she instantly regretted.

“Well,” the Ranger said. “I didn’t expect you to hear Larry coming. Certainly didn’t expect you to kill him. But he’s better off dead. A level 6 combat Classer, killed by a gods-damned level 3 civilian? Shameful."

The man was standing by his still partner, poking at the body with his boot. He had his sword drawn, and was holding it with a relaxed, familiar grip. He looked at Ana, who'd struggled to her knees. She'd managed to keep her grip on the dagger, and she held it towards him.

"Put down that knife, darling," he said calmly, gesturing with his sword. "You're very, very much outmatched, and I don't want to hurt you more than necessary."

She did, and dug for her purse. "Please," she croaked. "What do you want?"

"Your money and valuables, for a start," he told her. "And then, if you behave your—" He stopped and scrunched his face curiously at what Ana had in her hand.

She fired four shots. Two of them hit him in the head, and he wobbled and dropped like the sack of shit that he was. She would have aimed for center mass, but she wasn't sure about his armor, and he gave her plenty of time to aim.

A little message popped up in the corner of her eye.

[Congratulations! You have defeated: Human Ranger, level 7; Human Rogue, level 6. You have been awarded: Growth Crystal (Lesser); Growth Crystal (Least) (2), Growth Crystal (Shard).

Attention: Growth Crystals are set to auto-consume. You have been awarded 210 experience points.

Skills partially calibrated, based on use.]

"Great," she said into the silence as she lay back in the dirt. "Thank you. Show me."

INDIVIDUAL SUMMARY

Name: Anastasia Cole

Race: Outsider, Summoned (Human aspect)

Age: 26

Classes: Guardian Angel (3) (Hidden, shown as Companion (3))

Experience: 610/800

Attributes: Base Multiplier Effective

Strength: 14 1 14

Endurance: 16 1 16

Vitality: 15 1 15

Agility: 18 1 18

Dexterity: 15 1 15

Perception: 13 1.3 16

Acuity: 13 1 13

Willpower: 15 1 15

Charisma: 18 1 18

Connection: 13 1 13

Advancement Points: 0

Abilities:

Hidden Class (Guardian Angel) (Guardian Angel 1)

Guardian Angel (Guardian Angel 1)

Devotion (Guardian Angel 1)

Danger Sense (Special) (Guardian Angel 3)

Skills: Level

Acting 3

Charm 1

Command 2

Inspect 1

Sense Motive 2

Short Blades 3

Unarmed Combat 4]

"That didn't take much," she muttered, thinking about the new skills in the list.

The pain in her side was… bad. Her vocabulary was better than that, but everything was getting fuzzy. She definitely had cracked or broken ribs, and the surge of strength and… everything that she had felt when she was attacked had vanished the moment the fight was over. Her whole body felt heavy.

"Don't go to sleep," she whispered to herself. She was in the middle of a forest road, with two corpses next to her. She had no idea what animals there were here, or how well trafficked the road was.

"Don't go to sleep," she repeated. "Don't—"

  *

Ana's consciousness flickered. She couldn't have been out long, based on the shadows, but it was bad enough that she'd nodded off, or passed out, at all. With a groan and a stab of pain she forced herself to her feet. She knew that she shouldn't but she had to, so she gritted her teeth and did it anyway. She checked the bodies. She took their weapons and valuables. The Ranger had the good manners to fall in such a way that all the blood drained away from him, so she figured out the straps on his armor and took that too.

The robe she was wearing had taken the brunt of the blood, so she gingerly shucked that off, leaving her in just her dress. She went through the pack by the tree and found some spare clothes, but the pain in her side when she lifted her arm was too bad for her to bother getting them on. The dress would do — it was warm enough. She did put on the armor, though. She could do that without raising her arms. The whole process was torture, but she did it, even managing some of the straps. She whined involuntarily, and she was panting when she finished, but she did it.

She took only the most important things from each pack. Food, the sleeping roll, the valuables and weapons. Some little arrows for the crossbow. The remains of the cut-up robe, in case she needed a bandage at some point. And, after a moment's consideration, she added three small bottles of what smelled like liquor as well, in case she needed help getting to sleep. Then she steeled herself and screamed through her teeth as she put the pack on.

By the time the forest gave way to fields, Ana was about ready to throw up. The pain was constant and awful, and the armor didn't breathe at all. Besides that, it didn't matter how much stronger or in better shape she was supposed to be thanks to the “Class” that she'd been given. She wasn’t hurt. She was properly injured. Her ribs were probably fucked where she’d been kicked. She stumbled and staggered, her jaw clenching against the pain, but she couldn't stop.

It was an incredible relief when she came into sight of the part town, part armed camp that was the outpost. She couldn’t afford to question the fact that it looked like an open air museum.

It was certainly large enough to be called a town, whatever the dead man had said. The place was a half mile wide expanse of tile roofs, with a mile of clearing between it and the forest on all sides. Surrounding it was an impressive wooden wall, and at the foot of that were several rows of stakes. There were some fields and farm houses outside the walls, but they had their own walls, and there was nowhere near enough farmland here to feed the settlement as far as Ana could tell, which she figured must mean that they got food from outside, somewhere.

For all that it looked like the place was ready for trouble, the gate that the road led to was wide open. There was no one going in or out at the moment, but as she stumbled closer Ana could see two bored guards standing in the shade of the gatehouse.

All right. Just a little farther. She had to get in, and she had to get some kind of medical attention. Ana was an attractive, injured young woman. She knew it, and she was going to milk it for all that it was worth.

The guards watched Ana with the smallest bit of interest until she stopped just outside the gatehouse. They didn't wear anything like a uniform, just an orange armband. Ana hoped that marked them as guards. Otherwise these might just be two bored men, and this might get embarrassing or dangerous. She took the pack of, dropping it heavily to the ground, then allowed herself to stumble and go down to one knee. With the way she felt, she barely had to play it up at all.

"Oh, shit," one of the guards said, stepping out of the shade and approaching Ana. He was a tall young man, with short, curly hair. His skin was a bit ruddy, and he had a rugged look to him. His label said [Human Fighter (13)]. "Are you okay, miss? I don’t recognize you. You an accidental?"

“Not an accident,” Ana said piteously. With how much pain she was in, looking and sounding pitiful didn’t take much acting. “I was attacked!”

"No, sorry to hear that, but I don’t mean ‘did you have an accident,’ miss. I asked if you’re an accidental. Dropped in here by accident. Not much else you could be, with your Class and level," the guard said with some sympathy.

"Right," Ana said. "Yeah. I woke up in the forest. I was so scared!"

"I can imagine," the guard said. He turned to his shorter partner, saying, "You stay here, Draver. I'll take her to the captain."

"Sounds good, Tor. Take your time," the other guard said, leaning back against the wall.

"What’s your name, miss?" the man called Tor asked. “And can you walk a little farther?”

"Anastasia," she said, looking up at the man with hopeful eyes. “I think I can manage a little farther.” She wasn’t exaggerating. “A little farther” was about as much as she could handle. Her whole side felt like it was on fire. She needed to deal with these guards and get to some kind of clinic.

“I'm Torden. And you really don’t look like you should be carrying a pack,” Tor said with a dubious look. "May I?".

Ana’s gratitude was real when she said, "Oh, please. Thank you."

"All right, Miss Anastasia,” Tor said, throwing the pack easily over one shoulder, then offering his hand to help her stand. “I’m sorry about this, but I have to ask: do you intend to cause any trouble in our settlement?”

“I certainly don’t want any more trouble,” Ana said, all pained innocence.

 "Good enough. Come with me. Captain Falk wants to see all new arrivals," Tor said, and led the way into the outpost.

~~~~~~~~

Maybe next I should do one where Ana eats it and Nic has to survive on his own.

Nah. Let's be honest. That kid never stood a chance without Ana.