[ WP ] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world , but you can only do so by getting kills .

`` Theresa, you have to do this.'' 
 
 I wanted to reach out and smack the pleading look off of his face. `` Nobody HAS to do this, Dante! We could all just-'' 
 
 `` Just what, Theresa?! Just leave, just take off and hide? Go back to normal society? You and I both know that they would n't last a month!'' Even without turning around to look at him, I could feel the intensity of his gaze on me. 
 
 `` It's different now, there's enough high-level soldiers and police to keep order.'' I waved a hand towards the television, almost the sole source of light in the dark bedroom. `` They've been talking for weeks now about how the killing's been brought down. The death penalty's been reinstated for all murders, state employees have a mandatory retirement level, schools and daycares are getting emergency fortifications built around them...'' 
 
 Dante sniffed dismissively. `` Yeah, sure, but they leave out how that's only happening in the places they can actually control. What happened to all the ex-military who just skipped out? The farmers who slaughtered every animal they had before most of the rest of us knew what was happening? They are n't talking about them anymore, because they've set themselves up as warlords all over the map! For god's sake, there's a Planned Parenthood farm 50 miles from here, and you KNOW what they'd do with our women! Theresa, please...'' 
 
 I could hear the panic in his voice - it was controlled, but it had been creeping in more and more lately. He hated when I talked like this. I understood why, but he'd never understand my perspective. I'd take any option, any alternative... if it would guarantee their safety. And though I hated him for it, Dante was right. It still was n't safe enough out there. 
 
 `` All right... all right.'' Dante exhaled a huge sigh of relief, though it cut short quickly as his own guilt caught up to him. Clutching my hand tightly, he started to walk me towards the door. As we walked through the apartment, I inhaled the scent of the fresh fruit lying in a bowl in the kitchen. The blend of sweet and citrus aromas always calmed me down somewhat. We stepped out into the hall, and I stared down the flight of stairs. I could already hear the murmuring - the people were already waiting. `` How many?'' 
 
 `` Just one. But there's about a dozen waiting for you after that.'' 
 
 I took the first step onto the stairs, and instantly heard the tone of the crowd change, as it always did. The murmuring became more hushed, an air of anticipation hitting me before I could even see them. As I finally reached the ground, I looked out onto a room full of hopeful faces. They slowly parted as Dante led me forward, but their eyes, their stares never wavered. 
 
 At the center of the room was the table. It was an old, mahogany dinner table, and rather out of place in the former gym despite the fact that most of the equipment now rested against the walls. The table rattled - as the young man held down on it jerked against his captors. He did n't know me, but he could read the crowd. He knew what was coming. 
 
 Dante squeezed my hand as I drifted away from him, towards the prisoner's head. It was the little details that always caught me in these moments - the slight red line on the prisoner's chin, probably where he'd caught himself shaving this morning. His hands were rough, but his nails were trimmed and clean. There was a tattoo on his shoulder, just a hint of flame and blood visible before vanishing under the shirt. I looked down at him, and my hand gently brushed against his cheek as I went for his gag. Sometimes it helped. As I tugged it free, I looked at the four people surrounding the table, each holding a limb. As always, they were our lowest level - the ones who would benefit most. I'd tried to share it amongst more in the beginning, but it never worked beyond the four. 
 
 `` You fucking bitch! They'll come for me! They'll come for me and they'll kill you! They'll make you watch as they slaughter every last one of them, and then they'll kill YOU!'' 
 
 The words rang out in the otherwise silent room. I stretched out a hand, not needing to look to know that it would be met with the knife. The metal of the handle was still cool to the touch, and my fingers wrapped around the decorative hilt. Leaning down, my head next to his, I gripped his hair firmly and pulled it away - a lesson I'd learned rather painfully after nearly having an ear bitten off by a more violent prisoner. I murmured softly into his ear. 
 
 `` I wish they would. But you and I both know... they'd never kill me. I know it means nothing to you, but... I'm sorry.'' 
 
 The first spray of blood from his throat takes me back, as it always does. It's the rush of the experience starting to flow into me - it feels so similar to that drunken stupor I'd been in, a year and a half ago. I can feel myself staggering out of that bar, the snowy slush parting underneath my feet. The temperature of the air drops around me, and I feel the rumble of the ignition as the car comes to life. I used to fight it - I tried so many times to stop myself, to throw the key away, to shove Dante out of the car, to scream a warning. But it's the past - and not even the most powerful of us can change that. So now, I watch, as I always do, the swirling snow through the dark window, tiny pinpoints of white that are gradually eclipsed by two larger, hazy suns, until their light smashes through us. 
 
 Suddenly, the world is no longer dim and distant. I can feel every snowflake landing on my skin, the glass shards digging into my back, the wet, foul slush of the road oozing around my body. I can hear Dante's screams, the raspy, gurgling screams of someone who can barely breathe. I can see the blood seeping out of his body and mixing with the grey slush. And I can see the burst of golden light illuminating the darkness, rushing outwards from my body. The knowledge burns in my mind, seeming as simple and natural as breathing now. It drives me, pushing me to crawl forward, towards the agony lying before me. I reach out a hand to my broken, terrified friend, and suddenly his screams stop, taken away by a gentle whirl of golden energy. As the pure light streams from me, I look over Dante, at the remains of the car thrown off the overpass. The lifeless stares of the family below stare up at me, their stares no different from the one accusing me now, hanging limply from the table. 
 
 I push myself up slowly, Dante taking the knife from me as he always does. The others have fallen back into the crowd, their leveling already completed. Mine still burns, the radiance bathing the crowd, illuminating the converted gym. Distantly, I see the entrance, a single door open wide, but Dante's hands are guiding me away already. He gently leads me towards the the others waiting for my touch, the sick and wounded, knowing that bringing them comfort and peace is the only thing that grants me any measure for myself. He's been many things for me since that night - my partner, my provider, my prophet. Above all, though, he has been my protector, keeping me safe, even from myself. 
 
 The world has changed, but one axiom remains constant - tanks love their healers.
