Attack the Geek: A Ree Reyes Side-Quest (Ree Reyes, #2.5)

by Michael R. Underwood

She’d been talking to her dad while getting ready for work, and he’d been cracking her up with stories of his last doomed date, this one with a life coach who had no degree and no experience, and as far as her dad could tell, just quoted The Secret to people. But hey, whatever works.

This is not his first rodeo, Ree thought, as if the way he handled the weapon and moved in the armor left any doubt. Most armchair generals and old-school miniature geeks didn’t have practical experience in battle because really, in twenty-first-century America, most people didn’t have combat experience, unless you were in gangland or live on a military base. But Grognard talked like a veteran sergeant or master chief. “Got it?” he asked. Everyone nodded.

Note to self: Sometimes Strength or Will can replace Charisma for leadership checks. True story.

In her nine months of hero-ing, she’d noticed a clear correlation between “smells bad” and “likes to snack on humans and suck the marrow from their bones nom nom nom” types of creatures.

Speak Technobabble to Me, Baby

That place where the conscious mind had buggered off to sleep and all that was left was pure instinct and muscle memory, action driven by necessity. She’d fight and win, or she’d die. So she fought.

Keeping her dance Cuisinart going, she turned and Greater Cleave-d her way back to the others, where Eastwood was dancing his own Pwntentantz. Where Ree was fighting with her best Ataru-esque form, melding her Taekwondo and other martial arts experience into an all-speed-all-the-time fight, Eastwood was kicking it old-school, reminiscent of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

John McClane, the patron saint of action heroes, the man whose ingenuity, inexorable will, and smart-assery had carried him through endless trials and launched Bruce Willis’s seemingly unkillable career as an action hero.

Either the gnomes have made themselves a battering ram, or there’s a cave Troll out there!” “It wouldn’t be a cave Troll. They hate the smell down here. Sewer Troll, maybe,” Eastwood said. “Thanks, Mr. Monster Manual,” Ree said, short temper unleashing the full power of her snark. “How does this help us not get dead?” Beat. “It doesn’t,” Eastwood admitted. “Then I don’t need to know.

Again, she found herself wishing that there was a D&D movie worthy of fandom. There was the cartoon, but she couldn’t honestly geek out over that anymore.

And most of all, thank you to the gaming community—dice chuckers, card-floppers, pewter painters, tabletoppers, console warriors, LARPers, game designers, everyone.