Chapter II: Showdown in Southtown

My mind reels as I process the sight in front of me. Not only does Chrom seem to be… girlified, but the other Shepherds are gender swapped as well. Minus Robin. I have no idea what Robin is. I make a mental note to ask once this is over, assuming we all survive this clusterfuck. Meanwhile, Chrom peers down at me, her expression a marriage of confusion and curiosity.

"I seem to be encountering a lot of strange people today who know my name," she says, more to herself than me. Chrom levels her gaze fully at mine. "But we can discuss why you appear to know me… and that I'd be here… Anyways, we will discuss this later. You two took quite the fall. Are you OK?"

I do not look forward to that conversation later. "I think Agatha is fine," I begin, giving her a glance and receiving a nod, "but I'm pretty sure my ankle is sprained." I try to put a little weight on it, only to be met with intense pain.

Chrom catches my grimace and waves the blond boy—male Lissa I presume—over. "His ankle is sprained. Maybe broken even. Can you help?" she asks then turns to me. "This is Liston. He's a healer."

"Liston" takes a knee beside me, studying my ankle before raising his staff to it. "Stay still," he orders in a voice remarkably high-pitched for a boy. The staff orb glows as the healing magic flows into my skin. Being healed feels a lot like local anesthesia, a temporary numbness followed by a dull throbbing. But aside from the minor pain, it's as if my ankle was never sprained at all.

"Try it out," Liston says, and I gingerly test my ankle by trying to stand. No issues whatsoever. Incredible. Modern medicine has nothing on this shit. I offer Agatha a hand, supporting her as she gets to her feet as well.

"Thanks. I owe you." I'm about to warn Chrom about the bandits inside the tavern, but the two knuckle draggers themselves lumber into the street just then. Seeing Agatha and me, they charge, but being the idiots they are, they fail to take notice of Chrom bringing down Falchion into the left one's neck. He crumples, head hanging on only by a thin strip of flesh. If I hadn't already vomited earlier, I'd do it again. The remaining bandit lets out an enraged roar and flails wildly at Chrom.

"Ye killed 'im! Yer gonna die fer that!" the bandit bellows. "Fer Karl—" He never gets his epic revenge. Chrom's blade finds itself buried hilt deep in the thug's chest. The bandit is dead before his limp body collapses to the ground. The scene might be amusing if it wasn't real.

Galloping hooves clatter along the stone street. Frederick… Frederica…pulls up alongside Chrom, Robin trailing not far behind. "Milady! The brigands have taken control of the bridge. I believe they must be holed up in the church on the other side. If we hope to save these townspeople, we must break through their line." As she briefs Chrom, she dismounts, leveling a calculating gaze at Agatha and I. "Who are these two?"

Chrom glances from Frederick to me. "They're villagers. I think. One of them seems to know me," she says, not unkindly, thumbing at me.

Frederick brushes past Chrom. "Two in one day? I don't believe in coincidence," she says, leering at me. She stands almost exactly my height, but fills the space in a way I never could. Her presence is… intimidating, "How do you know milady? Are you in league with that one?" She gestures at Robin, who looks woefully bemused.

"Um." I'm drawing blanks. There really is no easy explanation. "No?"

Her eyes narrow and she tries to say something else, but Chrom places a hand on her shoulder. "Peace, Freya. I saw this man leap from that window, that girl in his arms. Clearly, they were running from these men," she explains, pointing at the bloodied corpses. "They mean us no ill will."

"But milady—"

"Enough. Was it not you who told us we needed to take the bridge? We've more important matters at hand," Chrom reasons, offering me a reassuring smile.

"Agreed." Robin speaks for the first time, voice as implacable as their appearance. "Freya, do you know how many guard the bridge?"

Freya composes herself. "Perhaps a half dozen, give or take a man. Most wield axes, though there is a mage as well."

Robin nods, digesting the information. "You two," they say, "Do either of you possess skill in battle?"

Agatha shakes her head. "No! I'm just worker in the inn," she says, quaking.

I feel Robin's eyes on me. "And you?"

Fuck. I hate being average. I hate being in this world. I'm useless here. "No," I say. "I don't."

Chrom must sense my frustration, because she steps forward and claps me on the back. "There's no shame in not being a fighter. These are just the roles we play."

"Yeah, well, my role sucks," I snap. I should be happy not having to fight. But it doesn't sit well. Aren't I supposed to be a hero in this type of story?

Freya gives a derisive snort. "If you cannot fight, then stay back. I won't have you endangering milord and milady.

"Wait," Robin says, stepping between us. "There is something. If one of these two villagers acts as a distraction to lure men from the bridge, we can ambush the bandits from two sides as they leave. A classic pincer attack!" The glow on Robin's face is almost disturbing.

"That… makes sense," agrees Freya in the most disagreeable manner.

Robin stares at Agatha and me in turn. "Well?" they ask, but Agatha is already trembling.

"I-I can't. Sorry," she says meekly.

"I'll do it." Part of me knows this is just bravado, an attempt to convince myself that I'm "chosen" or whatever. Being on the sideline… it's not right. Not when there's something, anything, I can do to help. I'm not a hero, and I never will be, but I can do this at least.

"Then it's settled," Robin says, launching into full tactician mode. "Chrom and Freya will hit from the right while I blast the mage first and then funnel the enemy with magic. Liston, you stay behind Chrom and Freya, ready to heal. And…" Robina trails off.

"Michael," I supply.

"Michael." Robin nods in delayed greeting. "Michael will distract the bandits and draw them off the bridge. You might have to get creative there." A crooked smile splits across their face.

Agatha pipes up, her tone one of concern and incredulity. "Are you serious, Mike? You could be hurt. You could die. We barely got away from those… those men, and now you're ready for more?"

Chrom fixes the serving girl with a disarming smile. Still inherently charming it seems. "I think Michael knows the risk. This is a brave act."

I give Agatha my own attempt at a charming smile, but she only sighs. "Fine. I should have guessed you'd volunteer after that jump out the window." She squeezes my arm. "You better not die after saving me like that."

I want to assemble some kind of witty reply, a pithy one-liner, the kind every action movie star is born to say. But I'm not that guy. "I hope I don't die too," I say dryly.

"Well," Robin interrupts, coughing. "If we're done with the chatter, I'd prefer we move into positions." Everyone voices their agreement, and Chrom, Freya, and Liston move to the right, using the buildings as cover to conceal their ambush. Robin does the same on their side, leaving me to muster up the stones to go taunt some bandits. I take a deep breath, readying myself to step into the open. However, Agatha tugs on my sleeve.

"I'll wait in the inn," she says, already pale. "I need to check on Mister Yuri. I'm afraid he might be…." She can't finish. I don't blame her. He's a good man, and I hope to God he's fine. Without another word, she disappears into the building.

Summoning my limited courage, I take a stance at the foot of the bridge. I channel my inner Redditor for some class insults. "Hey, you inbred sheep fuckers!" I shout. "If I didn't know any better I'd think your parents were siblings! So ugly!"

Six pairs of venomous eyes fixate on me, the furthest back belonging to the big boss, a man so memorable I can't even recall his name. Gulping, I continue. "What? Why so silent? You look like your sister just rejected you. For your dad."

Scowling, the leader glares at the mage and jerks his head at me. Oh shit. This isn't part of Robin's plan. Panic barely registers before a blade of wind cuts across my stomach, slicing deep. Blood pours from the gash, pain like I've never felt erupting in my gut. I fall to the side, seeing four bandits approaching, probably hoping to finish the job and gloat. From my vantage point and fast fading vision, I see a bolt of thunder magic absolutely annihilate the mage who opened me up. Two more bolts follow, crashing into the advancing bandits. They become disorganized, easy prey for Chrom and Freya—who left her horse behind, likely for stealth—to impale on the ends of their weapons. Five men dead in seconds. Robin knows tactics, that's for sure.

The warm wetness of blood soaks my clothes and pools under me. I grow cold, my fingers and toes ceasing to exist as far as my nerves are concerned. Thoughts become replaced by pure primal drive. Live. Survive. Don't die.

Don't die.

Don't…

Black. Again.

I awake in the same room Yuri lent me, the moldy and stiff bed digging into my back. Instinctively, I touch my wound, or where the wound used to be. Only a thin scar remains. Lissa—Liston—must have healed me. Guess even a healing staff can't eliminate traces of an injury like that. I attempt to sit up, but it's like I've been punched repeatedly in the stomach. Moaning, I roll onto my side, a position slightly more comfortable.

Awe that I'm alive finally hits. In the real world (I suppose this is the real world now) a devastating blow like that would have killed anyone, regardless of medical treatment. But I'm lying here with only a scar and some pain. Magic kicks ass. I need to thank Liston as soon as I see him again.

Daylight flitters through the shutters. I was out all night, it seems. The fact I'm safely in this room with my wound healed tells me we won the fight. But at what cost? Is Yuri alive? Is Agatha still OK?

The latter question is answered as Agatha opens the door, a damp cloth in one hand and a tray of food in the other. The redness around her eyes answers the first. Fuck.

"You're awake!" she exclaims, her dreary disposition lifting slightly. Agatha rushes to the table, setting the tray down with a clatter, then beelining for my bedside. "I was worried. Liston did his best, but you lost a lot of blood. I'm so glad you're all right."

"Never better," I joke before my mouth settles into a grim line. "Yuri…. Is he…?"

It almost physically hurts to see the change in her expression as she shakes her head. "When I got inside…. He was already…." Sobs rack her body. I place an awkward but hopefully calming hand on her shoulder. She clutches it tightly. Goddamn bandits. I'd kill them myself if they weren't already dead.

Knocking on the doorframe breaks apart the moment of grief. "I heard voices," Chrom says, relief clear on her face. "Thank the gods you've recovered. That was some hit you took out there. How are you feeling?" She steps toward me, stopping a couple paces from Agatha, who immediately straightens up and wipes her eyes.

"Sore," I answer, finding a weak smile. "Where's Liston? I need to thank him for healing me."

Chrom ruffles the hair at the base of her neck. "Liston is sleeping. He was up all night healing wounded villagers—" a mighty yawn cuts through the words.

"Looks like Liston isn't the only one who stayed up all night," I observe.

Chrom's face is dark. "The dead do not bury themselves."

Silence stretches between the three of us, a palpable tension, anger and mourning rippling. Agatha speaks. "I'm going to check on the other patients," she says, scurrying away like any place is place she'd rather be.

"Patients?" I give Chrom a questioning look.

She shrugs. "We've converted the inn into a field hospital of sorts to deal with all the wounded. Agatha has been working non-stop. I think the innkeeper… Yuri… I think his death affected her greatly."

"He was a great man. If it wasn't for him…" I try to imagine last night if Yuri hadn't given me a place to stay. I'd likely have slept on the street. The same street where that man took an axe to the skull. That man would probably have been me if not for Yuri. "Let's just say I owe him a debt that can now never be repaid." I sound bitter, more bitter than I knew I could sound.

Chrom sits at the foot of the bed, the mattress groaning under the new occupant. "Whatever debt you think you owe, forget it. You paid it one thousand times over when you stood before that bridge."

"Tell that to Yuri." I grit my teeth.

Sighing, Chrom rests a palm on my knee. "I can't. So, I'm telling it to you. Michael, you helped avenge his death."

Unconvinced, I huff. "Whatever," I say crossly, retracting my knee from her touch. I want to change the subject; this is a wound magic can't heal. "The other two with you, where are they? Are they sleeping too?"

"Freya and Robin? No," Chrom says, graciously accepting the change in topic. "Freya is probably pacing outside the inn. She's itching to question you. But don't worry, I know you mean me no harm. Last night squashed any doubts I had. What you did was selfless and courageous. You nearly died. So, thank you. Truly."

Selfless and courageous. Doesn't feel that way. Feels pathetic. Yuri is dead, and I nearly died in a puddle of my own blood my first day in this world. Some hero. What good is a fantasy world when you're just plain old you? "And Robin?" I ask, ignoring the gratitude.

Chrom's eyebrows knit together. "He… She… Ugh. Robin. Robin is downstairs helping with the wounded. "

I laugh, despite my mood. "You can't tell either?"

"No!" Chrom's eyes blaze with determination. "But I WILL find out."

"Does Robin know that? Might not appreciate you invading their privacy like that," I say slyly.

Her face flushes deep crimson. "What? No! No, no, no. Not like that! Gods!"

"Can't you just ask?"

Chrom frowns. "We tried. Doesn't go anywhere. 'Robin, are you a man or a woman?'" She adopts a very un-Robin-like Robin pose. "'Hmm, I suppose I do like cute animals, but I also like meat. A lot.' See?" The Robin voice is even worse, and I struggle not to cackle at Chrom's expense.

"Sounds infuriating," I remark. What an odd individual. Then again, Robin is a strange character sometimes.

"What's infuriating?" Robin rounds the doorframe, followed closely by Freya, whose hawk-like gaze is ever-present.

Chrom stands. "You! You're infuriating. Out with it! Man or woman?"

Robin scratches their chin. "Hmm, I suppose I do like pink, but I also like large dogs. Scary ones."

"Do you see what I'm dealing with?" Chrom says to me, exasperated. I just laugh, finally unable to contain it.

Freya looks unamused at the shenanigans. "Milady. This is not a trivial matter. Robin is clearly toying with us. I've already had enough. I don't trust… them." She rounds on me next. "And you. How did you know milady? Explain yourself."

Fortunately—actually very, very unfortunately—I never get to answer the question. Perhaps it's because this is a fantasy world. Perhaps it's because the Law of Interrupting Catastrophe governs plots. Perhaps it's simply random. But the ground begins to shake.

I'm thrown from the bed, rolling until I smack into the wall beneath the window. Holding my burning abdomen, I prop myself up so I can see out the window. The earth is literally rolling, lifting houses and tearing them apart in one cruel motion. Lava springs up from the ground, in places like a geyser and others like great lakes of fire. Flaming rocks shower down around the town, crushing buildings and townspeople alike, the rifts in the earth having shot the molten boulders into the sky. What I now recognize as a Risen portal, a blue eye ringed by runes, the same as on my computer, opens among the clouds of smoke and ash. Undead warriors spill from the portal like a menacing ooze. With frightening ferocity, they attack, slaying every villager they can reach. If the bandits were bad, this is another level.

"What in Naga's name…" Freya breathes, all suspicion on her features giving way to utter disbelief.

"We need to move. NOW!" Chrom commands, hooking her arms around both Freya and me. "Let's go!" She drags us along, Robin not far behind.

As we near the door, the floor shakes more violently than ever, the side of the building we'd just been on caving in entirely. With a completely unobstructed view, I can see the full range of the chaos outside. It's like Armageddon. The fire, lava, the undead. It isn't just a few Risen. It's a tide of them, at least a couple hundred. The village is surely doomed. At this point we just need to escape. If we can. Running into the hall, we collect Liston and Agatha who had both been sprinting away from the now burning storage room. Downstairs is a nightmare from the deepest layer of hell. Risen hack the wounded to bits, the smell of the freshly dead and the decomposing mingling together. Chrom, Freya, and Robin do what they can to vanquish the invaders, but it takes all their might just to get the six of us out of the building.

In thick of this apocalypse, I'm reminded once again that this should not be happening. Not here and not like this. What is going on? Why is this world not following the timeline of the game? Or even the Future Past timeline? Why? Why does nothing make sense? And why am I so powerless? This is supposed to be my story. That's the way these things work, right? No. No, it's not. This is reality now. And reality doesn't give a fuck who you are.

And as evidenced by the wave of Risen about to overwhelm us down the street, reality really doesn't give a fuck.

Author's Note: First, I'd like to thank you all for the incredible response since I first posted only a couple days ago. I've received 6 followers, 1 favorite, 1 review, and over 130 hits. I'm beyond happy. Thank you all so much for taking the time to check this crazy story out. I promise it only gets better from here! If you have any questions, ideas, or speculations, please write a review, or feel free to PM me.

And to my reviewer… I'm so glad you're enjoying a gender bender fic like mine! I hope to make it so much more than that though… Poking fun at SIs, whatever do you mean? :)