The smell of gunpowder and dust filled the air, shot through with the iron-tang of blood and an acrid stink from the dead mosquito things. It coated the back of Alejandra's throat and made her gag, even as she sighted down the barrel of her borrowed pistol and put three more bullets downrange.

The slide locked open after the final shot, and she thumbed the clip-release button automatically. Her hoarse cry of "reloading" was just as automatic–you kept your squad informed in a firefight, no matter what.

Then she heard Matty yell the same thing. And Dinah. And her heart stutter-stopped. Because that was almost half of their firepower suddenly silent. And there were still mosquitos on the wing.

She grabbed frantically for Olivia's pockets, reaching in and trying to tug free the spare clips her daughter had there. The metal snagged on the denim, and she lost precious seconds trying to get it free.

She wasn't fast enough. She had just gotten a single clip out when she heard Bel scream.

Her head jerked up, and saw her eldest daughter stagger backwards, a Mosquito's beak impaling her shoulder and the thing's cross-jaws opening and closing as those hideous teeth tried to find purchase on her flesh.

"Isabel!" Alejandra heard herself scream her daughter's name and she jerked forward–and then she had to fall back immediately as a pair of mosquitos lunged for her and for Olivia, still kneeling on the ground as Lucas' magic healed her arm. She howled her own battle cry into the teeth of the monsters coming for her, brought her freshly-loaded Glock up. She fired four times, two shots each, blowing the mosquitos out of the sky like it was easy.

Isabel screamed again, and the sound reached into Alejandra's soul and pulled. She felt something grab, felt power rising within her… Just like when she'd fought the gator-cats. A snarl crossed her face as she reached for that same power, willing for it to transform her gun into a death-cannon again, and–

She couldn't. The power just stopped within her. Her eyes bugged out and she felt almost like she had tripped over something. She tried again, reaching down with that strange coin energy stuff she'd felt accumulating. And again she was rebuffed.

"Hoo?"

She blinked as a small owl hopped into view, holding a scroll in one of its talons. It hopped towards her–

"vete a la mierda!" she snarled right at it, brought her gun up, and tried to get a bead on the mosquito chewing on her daughter.

And then Isabel exploded.

=====================

Matthew Albright knew that from the outside, he looked like he was in control. He knew he looked calm and cool as he blew a mosquito out of the air, pumped the shotgun, and spun to fire again at one of the insects that had tried to come around behind them. He knew he was moving and acting like he had done this a million times over, and that it was no big deal.

And he knew that all that was a lie.

Terror roared through Matt's veins like a California wildfire. His eyes were wide and unblinking as he handled his shotgun, tears streaming down his face as the gunsmoke and grit of the battle stung his eyes. But he could not close them. If he closed them, even for an instant, he might miss something.

His mouth was dry as sawdust, and his throat was raw and ragged from yelling and sucking down smoke. His hands trembled even as he racked the slide back on his shotgun, blasting yet another Mosquito out of the air. His knees felt like they were made of jello, his head spun, and he had lost control of his bladder a couple seconds ago. At any other time, the warm wetness spreading across his pants would have been mortifying. Now, the only thing he could think was; at least it's not blood.

His shotgun racked open on an empty chamber. He swore and fumbled for the shells–the rapidly decreasing number of shells–in his pockets. "Reloading!" he called, forcing the word through his throat.

He tried to look everywhere at once as he shoved the shells into his weapon's magazine. His family was holding their own against the satan-bugs. The swarm was starting to thin. Some of them were even retreating back towards the orb-thing–

Matt blinked, finally, as the orb opened up and the mosquitos dove back into the squirming depths and decompiled. Coming apart like legos, like meat under a saw, and were absorbed back into the squirming mass.

And then something else started to emerge.

A wide, narrow head the size of a car bumper. Long segmented jaws that opened and closed in stages. Teeth the size of kitchen knives. A green carapace that looked more like armour. Long arms ending in scythe-blades with serrated edges. A half-dozen chitinous legs, each ending in ripping claws. It was like a praying mantis had merged together with the Zerg.

And the whole thing was the size of a Clydesdale

Matt opened his mouth to yell a warning, but the dust and gunsmoke went down his throat and choked the words before they could get out. He coughed, spat out a wad of gray phlegm, opened his mouth again–and his eldest daughter screamed in pain.

Matt whirled, eyes going wide. Bel staggered under the assault of one of the remaining Mosquitos, its serrated beak was all the way through her shoulder. Blood flowed from the wound, and ragged flesh hung in tatters. He could see bone.

His heart wrenched in his chest, and he stepped forward, only to be forced back by a third Mosquito lunging at him. He swung his shotgun, batted it away with the barrel. It came at him again–and blew apart as he caught it square in the chest with a close-range blast.

Beyond them, a second Mantis Zerg was emerging from the orb.

And then Isabel exploded.

=================

Time slowed to a crawl for Isabel Albright.

She stared at the Mosquito impaling her left shoulder. Saw it start to thrash side-to-side, probably an automatic response, designed to do more damage to her. Its jaws unhinged and started to snap, trying to dig at her with those thousands of tiny teeth. She felt the pain from the injury, but it was a distant, tiny thing. Obscured, even, by something far, far more potent.

A wall of pure undiluted fury.

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This fucking place. She hated it. She hated that it made her feel scared. She hated that it kept throwing new things at her. She hated how it had hurt her. And her family. She hated sleeping outdoors. She hated that there weren't any toilets in this god damned place!

She hated how she was the only one of her family to not get a power. She hated that it made her an outcast again. A freak. On the edges of society, wanting desperately to be accepted but never being allowed in.

And she hated this fucking mosquito.

Rage like Isabel had never known boiled up inside her, starting from the soles of her feet and surging upwards until it exploded out of her mouth in a gutteral, ululating scream. She felt heat and pain swarm up her limbs, felt light-headed and rock-steady all at the same time. She reached back with her good arm and seized the mosquito's serrated beak with her good hand. She didn't notice the golden light blazing out from her body. She only heard the roaring in her ears. Only saw the compound eyes of her enemy as it tried to kill her. Only felt the sharp edges of the chitinous beak digging into her palm.

Then she wrenched.

The beak tore off in her hand with a sickening crack. The mosquito, only moments before intent on devouring as much of her as it could, squealed in shock and pain as its beak was ripped from its face, leaving Isabel holding two feet of bloody and bleeding razor-sharp chitin.

She jammed the beak right down the mosquito's open throat and twisted. The chitin exploded out the back of the Mosquito's head in a shower of gray-green gore. She yanked her hand back out of the dead thing's gullet and screamed, the sound was hate and frustration given form, and whirled. Another Mosquito tried to impale her as the first had done–

She caught it's beak before it touched her skin. Forced the thing down to the ground. Stomped. And then she was holding a second beak, like a grisly rapier-and-epee combo. She whirled, still blazing like the sun, and faced off against the orb and the three mantis-things that were now lining up in front of it. Like targets at a firing range.

She felt the rage twist inside her, felt something respond. Energy that was hers but not of her. It reached up and brushed against her anger. Feeding it. Stoking the fires.

The coins. She was feeling the coins.

A fourth mantis emerged, and Bel stared as they leaped forward in unison, not as fast as the mosquitos but faster than any sprinter back on Earth. They came in silence, their scythe-claws raised, the wing-cases on their back open and propelling them forward on segmented legs.

Right at her family.

Blood dripped down her arm. Pain seared at the edge of her senses, already trying to break through her rage. She could feel herself falling away. And she knew, as sure as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow, she was going to die here.

The power of the coins reached out to her, its call already starting to dim alongside the fading rage. Desperate, she reached out for it.

It was like that time she had grabbed a live wire at one of Dad's construction sites. Lightning slammed into and through her. Power erupted in her veins. The coins latched onto her rage, and brought it roaring back full force and beyond.

A deep voice boomed somewhere overhead. She barely heard it. All she saw were enemies in front of her. Foes to be utterly crushed by the burning fury within her.

[Thy deeds have been marked. Thou hast, by thine own hand, unlocked thy class. Arise, Berserker.]

She felt her muscles swell beneath her skin. Felt her flesh harden. Felt her rage narrow from an all-consuming fire to a laser that could melt through steel. Pain in her shoulder lessened, and she glanced down to see her flesh pushing the remnants of the mosquito head out of her and the wound start to heal. And deep within her, she felt the power of the coins. Her power.

She reached out instinctively, and felt that power respond.

[Berserker Art: BREAK]

The Mantises were at her. The one nearest her struck with its reaping claws, too fast for mere mortals to follow.

Isabel Albright, the first Berserker Seroco had seen in centuries, met it's cold charge with blazing fury. She ducked the swing and came up in a bull rush, slamming into the mantis's torso, lashing out with arms suddenly corded with muscle like a grizzly bear, jabbing at it with the serrated mosquito-beaks still clenched in her fists, screaming the entire way. The mantis, which must have outweighed her five times over… was forced backwards, shrieking in pain as Isabel drew blood.

Behind her, the rest of the mantises reached the family

===============

Olivia Albright couldn't scream anymore. Her voice was rough and ragged and full of dirt and blood and whatever those mosquito-things exploded into when they were shot with a shotgun. Her arm still wasn't working quite right, but at least it didn't hurt anymore. And Lucas was beside her, pulling her backwards, away from the charging mantis-things as Dinah and Mom and Dad closed ranks in front of them.

And then the mantises were there, and everything was noise and movement and blood.

She saw the scene in patches. Dad, his shotgun held like a baseball bat, smacking aside claw-strikes from one mantis even as it became clear he was totally outmatched both in weight and speed.

Mom, retrieved Bel's dropped hunting rifle, using it in a two-handed staff-like grip, ducking and dodging and weaving around a second mantis's strikes, not letting it hit her because those scythe-blade-things it had instead of fingers would probably kill her if they even nicked her.

Dinah, using her rifle like a spear, jabbing and thrusting at the mantis in front of her, firing point-blank to drive the thing back. Her friend looked like the terminator, cold and emotionless and moving so fast it was hard to understand how she could be so calm.

She wanted to get up. To fight. To help. But her guns were gone, taken by other family members. Lucas was beside her, eyes wide, limbs trembling, watching the brutal combat unfold in front of him. He looked so fragile. So young.

Motion out of the corner of her eye. Olivia whipped her head around, scrabbling for a weapon that wasn't there. Had a mosquito snuck up on–

It was an owl, looking confused and slightly lost. Not like the big tuft-eared owls of Earth that looked like they were always judging you and were one word away from slapping you upside the head. This one was small and round and blue-white spotted. It's huge round eyes were looking not at Olivia but at Mom. And it held a scroll in one talon.

"Give me that!" Olivia commanded, not knowing why. The owl jumped in surprise, then hesitantly held the scroll out to her. Olivia ripped the seal off and unfurled it.

Desperation Arts Not Available. Conditions Not Met.

That was all it said.

Time slowed.

The system uses animal messengers to deliver system messages.

Mom was panting like a dog on a hot day as she dodged another strike from her opponent. She was starting to slow. She was starting to tire. Olivia could see it.

We all connected to the system through the doors. Well, not Bel. But…

But it looked like her sister had found some other connection as she forced her Mantis to give ground before her furious assault.

When I connected to the system, I connected to information.

Dad managed to slam his shotgun into his opponents jaws, forcing it to stagger back. But it wasn't really hurt, and Dad hollered in pain as one of the scythe blades came around and scored a deep cut across his side.

And information is power.

Dinah jabbed the barrel of her rifle into her Mantis's abdomen, and then there was the bark of a gunshot and the mantis staggered back, a tiny crack running through its chest chitin where Dinah had shot the thing point-blank.

It barely fazed it.

The owl flinched from the combat, turned, and extended its wings, about to take off.

"FREEZE!" Olivia hissed, jabbing a finger at the owl.

The owl froze.

"Who?" it said, blinking at her.

Olivia grabbed the owl with both hands and planted it on her shoulder. "You stay there, and get ready to give me all the scrolls you can handle. Got it?"

"Who?"

Olivia took that as a yes. She turned back to the battle, focused, and reached for her connection.

Time slowed.

And information flowed.

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