They came to a tire-skidding stop behind a line of parked clunker cars. Half a block away, Logan could see the outside of a stadium. The streets around the building were wide, the sidewalks covered in brown paving stones. On the other side of the street, thick trees blocked the view of the city, giving it a park-like look.

"Where are we?" asked Logan.

"Headquarters," said Emily, getting out of the car and slamming her door shut. The other soldiers followed, Dean handing the sergeant her rifle which she swung over her shoulder. They scanned their surroundings, their eyes alert.

Emily led the group down the street, passing lines of beater cars, and the occasional newer, electrical vehicle. Compared to the clunkers, they looked like diamonds in a pile of coal.

"Why don't you just use the electrical cars?" Unlike the Okanagan, New York had to have thousands.

Emily snorted. "Power. Electricity is sparse enough as it is, and we can't spare it to charge vehicles when we need it for more essential items like refrigeration. Feeding a city this large isn't an easy thing to do."

Unlike what he'd seen of the rest of the city, garbage didn't cover this area. In fact, it was so bare it was as if a street sweeper had cleared everything away.

It was unnatural.

Eerie.

Logan felt tension knot his shoulders. He straightened and kept a wary eye on his surroundings. The stadium had white-washed stone and high curved windows with a teal roof that reminded Logan of an old-fashioned train station. Deploying [Life Fabricator], he scanned for hidden auras. But directly in front of them was just as barren as it appeared, only the occasional blip of bacteria or microscopic mold pinging on his radar.

Behind their direct line of sight was another matter.

Logan could sense people hiding. What had to be hundreds.

He came to a stop and crossed his arms. "Do you have men patrolling the area? Hidden soldiers?"

Emily and the other two stopped and tilted their heads at Logan. "I'm taking you to the general, Lord Logan. Were you expecting to just walk through like you're going to the park?"

He dropped his hands to the sides. So, it wasn't an ambush; this was their version of guards.

They kept walking down the stone sidewalk until they came across… the hell?

A crater.

As if a meteorite had hit the middle of a street and part of the sidewalk, leaving a massive hole. Drain water pooled at the bottom, the sides covered in dark dirt. Around the crater were huge chunks of concrete and rocks the size of tires. Even worse, half of them had bright red splatches of dried blood. Within the crater, there was a discarded running shoe, a boot, even blown-up clothes.

Remains of people.

Logan flexed his gloves in tension. "What is this?"

Emily gave him a smile, her eyes sparkling in pride. "The might of the US army. XP harvesters tried to go for our base, thinking we were easy pickings. They learned the hard way that if you fuck with us, we'll fuck you up instead."

Using her index finger and thumb, Emily whistled. Up above the nearest building, a light flashed, as if someone had let the sun glance off the lenses of binoculars. Logan looked down and raised his eyebrow. They were pointing a gun directly at his chest.

One by one, hidden soldiers revealed themselves. They wore camouflaging army fatigues, their weapons pointed at Logan. But those weren't normal weapons. They were rocket launchers.

Huh.

"So you blow up the hostiles?"

"It's worked well for us so far," said Dean.

It might work against lower leveled XP harvesters, but this strategy wouldn't keep them safe for long. Not against the high rankers. People like Damsel could use her metal telekinesis skill and send their weapons flying into a hurricane. If they wanted to survive, they needed more than semi-leveled soldiers and fire power. If this was the extent of their defences, Logan worried that he might not have a customer base for his private market for long.

They climbed over boulders and trampled over gravel until they passed the impact zone and reached the untouched sidewalk behind the crater. In addition to the soldiers hidden on the rooftops, as they grew closer to the entrance of the building, at intervals, soldiers stood parallel to the walls, each staring with hard eyes and holding serious firepower. Logan scanned them as they passed. Most were level 40 to level 50. Again, the firepower and the numbers might make a difference against someone higher leveled, but against a high ranker? Against Logan? He might as well be facing another swarm of flying hunting snakes.

If he felt no threat, what about people like the Man in Black? This place would be a smorgasbord to an enemy like that.

They rounded a corner, trailing around the building, the sidewalk opening into a huge courtyard. Underneath their feet, the stones turned into black tiles that etched out a white logo the size of ten men stacked side-by-side.

Logan glanced up. Up above, a massive sign loomed over them. It hung over the edge of the roof and reminded him of the HOLLYWOOD sign in California. So that's where they were. "Yankee Stadium?"

Emily gave him a look. "You a fan?"

Logan smothered a smile. "I'm Canadian. I love hockey. Back before the Integration, Madison Square Garden would have been more to my taste."

Emily gave the soldiers in front of the entrance an acknowledging nod. "Madison Square Garden isn't large enough." She led the way through the doors, their feet clicking against the shiny, marble floor. Logan had never been here before, but it was like any other stadium. The entrance around the sides were indoor, leading to food stalls and the path to the main ballpark. Instead of heading to the nearest entrance, Emily led the way upstairs, and they wound through a stairway and up to a wide hallway. It was dark without the lights and Logan—

The power surged, the lights flickering on, illuminating everything around them. On each wall were baseball pictures, from small portraits to huge pictures as big as his living room wall. Lush carpet flexed underneath his boots; the private suite numbers lit up against each door.

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

"You have power?" asked Logan.

"It's on at intervals. We cycle it on for an hour then turn it off for 30 minutes during the day. That way we can keep everything essential powered but still save on fuel. It's off for the opposite at night though, an hour off and half an hour on."

"Ma'am," muttered Dean in an undertone. "Should we be sharing this intel?"

She smiled. "By the time he meets with the general, it won't matter, soldier. We'll know either way."

Logan narrowed his eyes. He didn't like the way she'd phrased that.

They continued down the hallway, passing soldier after soldier. Christ, they must have passed at least 100 of them by now. But for all the soldiers, where were the people? Other than back in the street, he'd seen no signs of civilian life.

They reached a sign for yet another suite, but this one was guarded more than the others, with ten soldiers stationed around either side of the door, and five lined up on the wall across from it.

A man with a cut on his chin and a bruise on his cheek stepped in front of Emily. "Who is this, sergeant?" he asked, giving Logan a scan with a deep furrow in his brow.

Emily came to attention, straightening her back and shoulders while the other soldiers did the same.

"Sir! He approached us while we were out on civilian escort duty. I think the general will be interested in what he has to say. He says he has something that would be important to the cause."

The man got that faraway look that meant he was scanning Logan with [Identify], his mouth curling in derision. "Did he." Then he nodded his head at the door. "Well, if you say he has something valuable to the cause, who am I to argue against it. Best get to it." He directed his look at Dean and Zachary. "Both of you stay here."

"Yes, lieutenant!" they shouted.

Emily took a deep breath as she grasped the doorknob and then swung it open. Logan followed her and glanced around in curiosity. The floor was covered in marble tiles and hardwood, a kitchenette with granite countertops and a sink to one side, a blank flatscreen TV affixed to a wall. A handful of leather chairs had been pushed to the side to make room for a desk and a filing cabinet.

For a suite at a stadium, Logan was impressed. It was bigger than his whole apartment back in Hope's End.

Sitting at the desk was a man who reminded Logan of his grandfather. Slender, with bushy grey eyebrows and sharp blue eyes. His head was bald and shone from the sun that wafted into the suite from the balcony that faced the stadium. He was wearing an army uniform, the clothes crisp, tidy. Unlike some of the other soldiers, Logan couldn't see a hint of dirt or blood, the collar of his shirt fastened tight to his throat.

Two other men in uniforms stood to either side of his desk, their eyes attentive.

"Tell them I won't tolerate it," said the man at the desk. "One casualty is one casualty too many. The men know better."

"Sir! Yes sir! I'll have them add two men with strong perception scores to each patrol."

"We shouldn't have had to tell them that," snapped the man. "If he wants to continue to lead, he needs to be smart about it."

Logan scanned the man behind the desk with [Idiot's Inspect]:

[Edward Hawthorne: Level 66. A human being.]

[Highest Stat: Intelligence. Characteristics: An expert in truthfulness. Hidden name: Hawthorne.]

The men focused on Logan and Emily as she came to attention and waited for acknowledgement. Hawthorne glanced up at her with a bored, impatient look and motioned her forward with a nod.

With her eyes lowered respectfully, she murmured inaudibly into his ear.

Hawthorne leaned away from the sergeant when she'd finished. "Well," he said. "Very well. That'll be all, sergeant. Return to your men and your duty."

"Sir! Yes sir!" said Emily as she rushed past Logan without a second look.

Hawthorne pushed back his chair and got up from his desk. "The sergeant tells me that you've offered to help us. Out of the goodness of your heart, I suppose. I'm General Hawthorn. Who are you?"

Logan didn't see why he couldn't tell him his real name. After all, what harm could it do? "My name is Logan. The System gave me a unique skill that allows me to offer everyone an exclusive, unique store full of items. All it costs is KarmaCoin. I've been traveling across the world, looking for places with high population so I can offer it to as many people as possible."

His attention sharpened. "Traveling across the world? You have a portal skill then?"

Logan gave him a self-depreciating look. "I think the System gave it to me hand in hand with my merchant skill, a way for me to reach more people."

Hawthorne looked at the soldiers standing at attention on either side of his desk, something undecipherable in his expression, and then he wandered over to Logan, scanning from his feet to his shoulders. "It seems the System gave you many useful skills. Armour as well, hmm?"

"People have tried to attack me, sir. They thought they could take the contents of my store from me, not realizing that to get the true benefit, they would need to let me craft a lodestone."

"A lodestone?"

"It's the access point for the store."

Hawthorne ran his fingers over his chin. His face was bare of stubble and the faint scent of cologne wafted off his skin. For someone who cared about his personal appearance and hygiene, Logan hoped that access to a store would be tempting.

"The sergeant told me that you have spatial storage devices for sale. Is that true?"

"It is."

The general's eyes were icy blue. "I think we might be able to make a deal, Logan. We could use someone like you. Someone who's trying to help. Shake on it?" He held out his hand, his eyes intense.

Logan glanced from his hand to the soldiers behind him. That same feeling of eeriness he'd felt when he'd followed Emily into the street returned, the back of his neck becoming clammy with unease. It could just be a handshake, but that feeling was telling him that it was more than that.

Logan glanced at the man again, giving him another scan with [Idiot's Inspect], but it came back with the same result. Level 66. It was possible that he was dealing with another person who could hide their level; he could have a stealth class or another Gem of Subterfuge like Damsel, but in the scheme of things, what would a handshake do? If this man ended up being more than he seemed, Logan could use [Threshold Shift] to portal out of here. It would be a shame, since he was here for a reason, to craft a lodestone and sell items so he could finish his Build an Empire Quest.

But there was another possibility. Logan couldn't help noticing that the general's characteristics looked odd: An expert in truthfulness. His highest stat was also intelligence. It was possible that just like Lara, he had a contract making or truth telling skill. And again, if he did, Logan had nothing to hide. He wasn't a secret XP harvester in disguise. Yes, he wanted to hide his hidden name and avoid revealing his level, but that was only to head off conflict.

Pinching his lips together, Logan clasped the man's hand and gave it a shake. Although Logan was wearing his exoskeleton gloves, his armour didn't stop him from feeling sensation. The general's hand was dry, his fingernails clean and manicured.

The general didn't let go. With a flare of light as if the sun had reflected off his eyes, he tightened his grip on Logan's hand. Logan looked down, glancing from his grip to his face, which was expressionless and cold.

"Do you mean us harm?" he asked, his voice making the fine hairs on the back of Logan's neck raise. Logan felt an odd sensation, as if he'd just dipped the tip of his fingers in a bucket of ice.

So, he had a skill after all. A skill that didn't force Logan to answer—he felt no compulsion—but a skill that would let him sense whether Logan told the truth.

"I'm here to sell items, set up my store. I mean no one harm."

The general had no reaction. His expression remained cold, his eyes icy. "Do you truly have spatial storage devices for sale?"

Logan gave him a smile, trying to look friendly, while that same sensation surged through his hand. "I do."

"How many spatial storage devices do you have?"

He held back a frown. "That's my own business. You'll find out what's available once I've set up my private market."

The man didn't seem to like that answer and dropped Logan's hand. "I see."

"Sir?" asked one of the men beside the general's desk.

The general gave him a look.

Aww, fuck. He'd been so hopeful that he'd finally come across a leader and a group doing the right thing, a group that had the same values as Logan. After all, if he was going to make progress on the Save Humanity Quest, he needed help. They hadn't done anything yet, but Logan had learned to trust his instincts. Instead of letting him set up his lodestone, this fucker was going to try something.

Logan sighed. Cracking his neck, he flared his nostrils, shifted his shoulders and planted his legs wide. His mouth in a scowl, he glared at the general and the soldiers behind him. And then as if opening the floodgates on a damn, he released his aura, projecting every single earned attribute outward in a killing intent, while at the same time, toggling through the Gem of Subterfuge options and unlocking his true level.

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