Chapter 59 (Patreon)

I hurtled through the abandoned city. 

I started about a mile and a half away from the old building where Signet lived. The neighborhood map’s view of the local mobs ended just one street before. I avoided the scattered monsters. There weren’t many in this area, but a few of them appeared to be large and fast. 

Mordecai: Donut’s Cockroach skill just activated. She went down to zero, but it kept her alive. She’s now at five percent. 

I rushed into the street, turning and running straight for the building’s entrance. As I approached, several dots populated the map. In her unconscious state, I couldn’t see Donut’s dot, but I was relieved to see the orange dot of Mongo in the center of the room. Also in the room were about 10 red dots and an equal number of Xs. 

As I approached, two more monsters appeared, coming from the around a far corner as they rolled toward the open building. They were squat and black and covered in spikes, each about as tall as my knee. They moved like tumbleweeds. A mighty roared emanated from the building, deep and loud. A moment later, two of the round monsters flew out the door and bounced off the street. I formed a fist and pushed into the darkened chaos. I couldn’t see shit. I pulled a torch into my left hand, lit it, and tossed it into the room. 

“Mongo, I’m here!” 

It took my brain several moments to register the scene before me.

Mongo had once again doubled in size. That roar had come from him. But more importantly, his health was deep in the red. He stood on the ground before the pile of garbage I’d erected around Donut, screeching in fury. Half of the defense was gone, scattered about the room, exposing the chair and Donut to the room full of monsters. Mongo stood defiantly in front of the hole, like a hockey goalie protecting the net. 

Both Donut and Mongo had been transformed into pin cushions. Each of them were filled with long, black spikes. As I watched in horror, one of the rolling, black mobs threw itself at Mongo, who leaped painfully in the air and slashed at the creature with his feet. The monster spun away, trailing gore. Mongo hit the ground, but stumbled and fell onto his side, crying. Several new spikes erupted from the dinosaur’s feet. The sleek, black spikes were about 15 inches long, and some of them had completely pierced the bottom of the pet’s foot and spewed from the top. 

I examined the properties of the mobs as I rushed toward Donut.  

Street Urchin – Level 8

These pokey little puppies only come out at night. Long, long ago, some of the richest citizens of the Over City kept these things as pets. Their name—Street Urchin—was a source of great amusement of the privileged. They would often joke about keeping a street urchin chained up in their homes, only letting the nocturnal creatures out to feed. The small, mindless creatures could clean an entire living space in a matter of minutes. When the cataclysm came, the Street Urchins were transformed into what you see today. Larger, deadlier, and a lot spikier. And after they cleaned the corpses of their former owners, they moved into the ruins and resumed their duties as the janitor mobs of the Over City.  

The ruin’s version of a Roomba, these things only have one purpose. To remove dead bodies and any other refuse left behind by inconsiderate crawlers. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them. But you best not get in their way. 

They can be very tenacious when it comes to taking out the trash.  

Holy shit. These little assholes were here because of me. They were attacking Mongo and Donut not because they were mobs and that’s what mobs did, but because of the defenses I’d erected around the cat. They were trying to get to the wood and metal hunks I’d stacked. And because Mongo was putting up such a ferocious fight, they were fighting back. And Donut was getting skewered in the process. 

I read the Heal scroll, one of the ones I’d gotten from the Survivor’s Box, focusing on Donut. She glowed. The spikes squeezed out of her body and scattered onto the floor like pine needles. Then I tried a second Heal scroll on Mongo, but it didn’t work. Damnit. I couldn’t use a potion on the pet, either. 

“Hang in there, buddy,” I said. I started throwing the hunks of wood and metal into my inventory. And when one of the street urchins approached, I’d throw a piece of metal at it. It’d make a chittering noise but stop approaching us. Instead, it’d roll over the refuse and start to devour it. As I worked, more and more of the mobs appeared, cleaning up the bodies of their fellows. 

There’d only been ten corpses in here when I’d arrived, but it was clear Mongo had killed much more than that. After I pulled the last of my makeshift defense into my inventory, I cleaned up the needles at my feet by picking them up and tossing them into my inventory. After that, the small, round monsters lost interest and wandered back into the street. 

Donut remained asleep on the chair, but her health had been restored. Mongo lay on the ground, whimpering. His heath was deep in the red. Dozens of the black needles jutted from his body in various places. I didn’t dare pull any out. 

Carl: Quick. How can I heal Mongo? The scroll and the potion didn’t work. 

Mordecai: Take out a heal potion. You should have a cinnamon stick in your inventory. I also gave you a couple branches of thistle rot. Put the entire cinnamon stick in the potion. Wait five seconds and add the thistle rot. Put the cork back on and shake it. Then pour it down Mongo’s throat and try not to get your hand bitten off. 

I did exactly as he asked. Both the cinnamon and the thistle thing had come from the stuff Mordecai had stolen from the Belly Rubbed Pug’s kitchens. 

A new recipe has been added to your crafting menu. 

A pair of achievements appeared. Then another as I forced open the sharp mouth of the dinosaur and poured the now-brown potion into the pet’s mouth. Mongo groaned and shook his head. The needles dropped to the ground. He sat up, nudged Donut with his head, and then he shrieked, loud enough that my ears hurt. Then he started bouncing up and down, waving his arms and circling around me, hitting me with his head in joy, as if he’d just realized I’d returned. 

“You did it, Mongo,” I said, petting the dinosaur, who made a purring noise when I patted him on the head. “You saved Donut.” 

Mongo had risen from level six to ten. Before, he’d been about the size of a turkey. Now he was almost as tall as my waist. Colorful feathers covered the creature. Donut could probably ride on the back of him now.

We still couldn’t move Donut from her spot. So I sat down and leaned against the chair, settling in. We still had several hours of night left. Signet had said she’d awaken in the morning. I hoped she’d told the truth. Mongo, despite being much too large for this, curled himself onto my lap, hanging over both sides. 

I found myself thinking about my mother, my father, of Bea. Of my few friends from before, like Billy Maloney and Sam. Of my coworkers at the boatyard. They were all gone. All I had left in this world was right here. 

Mongo soon started to snore. I could feel Donut’s warmth against the back of my neck. She breathed softly, oblivious of all that occurred tonight.

This, I thought, this is my family. 

~

Just before dawn, a brilliant light shone into the air from the direction of the circus. The world rumbled. The map was too far off my screen for me to see what had changed. 

Signet never returned, but she was true to her word, and Donut awakened with dawn.

“Where are we?” Donut asked, stretching, looking around. Her eyes flashed, which I knew meant she was looking through her menus. “What did you do to Mongo! How did you finish the circus…”

Mongo bowled her over, squeaking with absolute delight, bouncing around. 

Donut, despite having done nothing, had risen to level 15. The system had leeched enough of my experience from the evening into her. I suspected most of it came from completing the quest since she’d participated in quite a bit of the early part. She’d also received a loot box for it.   

“Come on,” I said. “We’re getting out of here.” 

“I am so confused,” Donut said, stepping onto the floor. “Did I do something? I don’t remember anything. But I had the oddest dream. Ferdinand came and visited me, and I ran to him, but he turned into a porcupine, and I kept getting his quills in me. It was quite unpleasant.” 

I laughed and laughed. 

~

I told Donut the story of the previous evening as we quickly but cautiously set out for the Skyfowl settlement. She was oddly quiet about the whole thing. She still seemed out of sorts.

As we passed the circus, I wasn’t surprised to see that the tents were gone. The X’s of all the corpses were gone, too, unfortunately. I kicked myself for not looting the coins from all the dead. Even though I didn’t kill the city boss, I hoped to return and loot whatever city bosses dropped, but there was nothing. I wondered if that meant he wasn’t dead. 

Something new did emerge in the wreckage. A staircase to the fourth floor, right in the middle of the park. It’d been hidden before. Usually these things appeared on my map, even if we couldn’t get to them, like with the one guarded by the Ball of Swine. This one had not been there before. I asked Mordecai about it, and he said many of the stairwells from now on would only become visible to us after we completed quests. This one had probably been there the whole time, right underneath Grimaldi. 

I wondered if Signet had gone down the stairs. For her, she’d move directly to the sixth floor. Whatever story she had going on now would continue, undisturbed by us crawlers until we made it down there. If we made it down there. 

“Why didn’t you just kill that boss?” Donut asked. “You still would’ve won the quest, and think of all the experience we would’ve gotten!” 

“Like I said, I’m certain I would’ve been toast.” 

“Well if I had been there, we would’ve done things differently.” 

Carl: Also, I don’t want to add this part out loud. This is a good thing. We now have yet another group looking out for us. It’s in that production studio’s best interest to keep us alive. I doubt they can help us much, but the more advocates we have, the better.

Donut: Until we get to the sixth floor and they have written out some story designed to get us killed. Or worse, they realize more people are talking about you than they are about Signet, and they try to get us killed before we even get that deep. We are guest stars, Carl. And this show sounds like it’s about one single character. It’s not an ensemble drama. It’s too dangerous for a show to have guest stars that are more interesting than the main character. That’s why they killed Barb on Stranger Things. 

Carl: That… That does make sense. Except the Barb part. You’re better with this television stuff than I am. When we get there, we’ll need to think of every possible scenario. 

Donut: GUESSING THE PLOTLINES OF TELEVISION SHOWS IS MY SUPER POWER. 

The second she said that, I realized she hadn’t posted the earlier, longer chat message in all caps. I decided not to say anything about it. It gave the impression Donut was maturing. Slowly. Very slowly.

But there was more to it, something that had been bothering me for a while now. Donut made a lot of seemingly-rash decisions and comments. Yet they were almost always good decisions. And while I knew her intelligence being higher than mine didn’t really mean she was smarter than me, I’d been suspecting for a while now that so much of her camera-facing self was an act, designed to hide her true cunning nature from the world. The problem was we were always camera-facing. 

As outgoing, as brash as she was, she was still new to this world, new to having real, sapient thoughts. She was still coming into her own. The adult she would become was in there somewhere, just starting to emerge. But Odette was right about her. She was still a child, and she held many child-like attitudes and beliefs. It’d be a long time before she fully matured. But it was clear if she did manage to grow up, she’d develop into a fiercely intelligent person.

At the same time, she seemed to hold the belief that outward cleverness and quiet efficiency was something she needed to hide, or worse, suppress. Part of it was the nature of the beast. After all, we needed to be popular to survive. But I was starting to really worry about her development, and I had no idea how to talk to her about it without sounding like an ass.  

I had a quick memory of Bea’s mom. It was just this past Thanksgiving, and we’d driven over to spend the weekend at her parent’s house. I’d been asleep on the couch, but I awakened to hear Bea and her mom whispering as they drank their vodka, the ice cubes clinking in the glasses. We’d brought Donut, and she’d been asleep on my neck on the couch. They had like ten other Persians around the house, and Donut was always freaked out by the other cats, so she always stuck by me or Bea when we visited. I’d woken up, and I had to pee, but Donut snored, and I hadn’t wanted to wake her. So I remained glued to the couch, eavesdropping on Bea and her mom. 

Bea’s mom had said, “You have to make them think you’re dumber than you are. That’s the only way to catch a good man. You can’t control the ones who are smarter than you. And you don’t want the dumb ones to know they're the dumb one. Once a man realizes he’s stupider than his mate, he gets mean. You’re lucky to have found Carl. I just wish he was a doctor or a lawyer.”

That Bea’s mom thought I was a dumbass was nothing new, so this didn’t surprise me. I didn’t particularly care what she thought about me.  

Bea had sighed. “Yeah,” she said. “He’s not complicated, that’s for sure. It doesn’t take much to make him happy. He says what he means. He won’t fight me, even if I try to fight. He’s not a doctor, but he makes good money, and he doesn’t spend it on anything. And I love him.”

That attitude, that we had to wear a mask, even toward our family, it was one I could never understand. A lot of people, men and women thought like that, and I didn’t get it. And I was afraid Donut had inherited that same attitude directly from Bea and her mom.    

A few minutes later, Bea and her mom had a different conversation, one about Donut. It was something I was glad now that the cat hadn’t overheard.    

I was reminded of something else I wanted to talk about. I sent a message to Zev asking if she was available to talk. 

Zev: Hello you two. You sure know how to make a splash. I just heard back, and we have you both booked for a new show tomorrow evening. It’s called Danger Zone with Ripper Wonton. It’s a round table. A real round table. There will be other Crawlers there and a few other intergalactic celebrities, maybe a politician. The show covers a few different hot topics of the day.

Donut: OHH, THAT SOUNDS DELICIOUS.

Zev: It has an audience participation segment, too. People will call in and ask questions. This is uncensored, so be ready for anything. 

Carl: I can’t wait. Hey Zev. I have a question. The real reason I messaged is I was wondering if you could tell me who the production company behind Vengeance of the Daughter is? Is it a Kua-Tin company?

Zev: No. Nobody in our system is allowed to run serials while we run the game. These are done by private groups, just like with these talk shows. We’re not well known for our dramas, anyway. I’m afraid the nuances of compelling scripted drama are lost on the average Kua-Tin.  

Carl: Okay, so who runs the one we just contracted with? 

Zev: It’s a entity called Sensation Entertainment, Incorporated. They’re from one of the center systems, which tend to be more integrated. The gentleman I was dealing with was a Sac. 

Carl: What the hell is a Sac? 

Zev: It’s a race of people. They’re pretty common. Since you don’t know, I can’t tell you I’m afraid. It’s not that important. Good luck today. I’ll keep in touch and will let you know when it’s time to go to your interview. 

Donut: BYE ZEV! 

We fought several, random mobs as we trekked. Most of them averaged around levels 9-11. Each of us practiced with our spells, casting over and over, trying to get them to level up. Mordecai explained that spells did eventually level-up when you just randomly cast them, but the system was smart enough to distinguish between practicing and actual, combat usage. 

Donut managed to level her Clockwork Triplicate spell up to level 3, much to Mongo’s delight.

I practiced my Fear spell on every mob we saw. All of the circus creatures had been immune to it, but the other Over City mobs were not. The problem was the spell tended to make them run away, and if we didn’t kill them, we didn’t get any experience. 

To solve the issue, Donut and I came up with the first move of what I would call our “playbook.” I gave a name to each play, and as soon as it was called, we’d follow a set of predetermined reactions. While it was good to be adaptive and fluid, the fight with the mold lions taught me that having a set of canned reactions to certain situations could be beneficial. Either of us were allowed to call plays, and once someone did, we needed to follow the play without question. That way we’d work together and know what each other were doing. This first one I called “Panic.” I’d cast Fear, and Donut would hit it with a missile. Simple. It wasn’t complicated, and it was pretty much what would naturally happen anyway. But I figured it would be a good start. As time went on, we’d have more and more complicated sets of reactions, including ones that integrated Mongo.

So we practiced the Panic play, and I managed to raise my Fear spell up to level three. The spell was simple. If I successfully cast it, the mob either ran away, or it stood its ground, but its dexterity was lowered by an increasing amount each level. At level five, it would work on groups of mobs, so I needed to work on it as much as possible.

And speaking of Mongo… that little dude wasn’t so little any more. Now that he was level 10, he was starting to look scary as fuck. I was glad he was on our team, and I was extra glad Donut had spent so much effort on training him to follow orders. He still had a tendency to scream at the sight of monsters, but he was much, much better at not turning into a death chicken berserker until we unleashed him. His experience with protecting Donut had bonded the two even further. 

He had a jump attack that was just amazing. He could now leap twenty feet from a complete standstill, and he’d fly through the air, feet first, and his claws could disembowel an enemy before it even realized what was happening. I knew these things were pack hunters. The idea of facing a group of fully-grown Mongos was goddamned terrifying. I didn’t know what floor these things normally lived on, but I hoped we’d never have to face them.     

~

We still had plenty of light left by the time we reached the medium-sized settlement. 

From a distance, the town looked similar to the last one. But the closer we came, I saw a few distinct differences. The town was easily four times the size. And the buildings were much bigger. 

And then there were the NPCs. A little more than half of them were Sky Fowls. Eagle-headed humanoids who could fly. This is the same type of creature Mordecai was before he’d turned into a shapeshifter. I’d seen the photograph of his brother in his apartment, and there were a few of them in Odette’s audience. But this was the first time I’d really gotten the chance to look at them. 

First off, they were smaller than I expected. The average male was about five and a half feet tall, so just below the average human in height. But more oddly, they didn’t have separate arms. They had large wings with little finger bones protruding from the center joint. It appeared they mostly used their large talons as hands. The eagles swooped about, flying just under the ceiling, circling around, going about their day and doing whatever medieval-style eagle people did. 

Other NPCs, including humans and orcs also wandered through the town. The town guards were the same walking suits of armor. I pulled up the map, found the closest tutorial guild, and we headed straight for it. 

As we walked, I caught sight of multiple crawlers. Most of them saw us and froze. A few waved and called out. Donut preened at the attention. I was currently level 18 and Donut was 15. Most of these guys hovered around levels 10 to 12, and most didn’t have any stars by their names. I wondered how the hell they were still alive. Donut wanted to stop and talk to them. I did, too, but we had so much to do.       

“Look, look!” Donut said just before we entered the tutorial guild. Mordecai’s door was attached to a small, non-descript building street over from a bustling market. A few players were coming and going out of the room, though I knew when they entered, they were transported to a different instance of the guild. 

I followed Donut’s pointing paw. She indicated a tower rising into the air from a street we hadn’t yet ventured. At the tip of the tower was a familiar, rotating symbol of a knife. The large, art deco-style sign was out of place in the primitive fashion of this town. Under it in tall, thin letters, the spinning sign read, “The Desperado Club.” And under that, in smaller letters it read, “So fun it hurts.” And then “Members only.”  

“I’ve always wanted to go clubbing,” Donut said. She looked at Mongo. “Do you want to go dancing with mommy?” 

The not-so-little dinosaur squealed.

“Something tells me they won’t let Mongo in there,” I said as I pushed at the door to the tutorial guild. 

I paused before going in. I spent the moment looking out at the world, marveling at the sights and sounds of this large town. Everything was happening so fast. I had a sudden, inexplicable feeling of longing wash over me. I wished this was all over. It doesn’t take much to make him happy, Bea had said to her mom. It was true. I wondered what level we had to get to before they’d allow us to settle in a town like this. 

“What kind of nightclub doesn’t let your children in?” Donut grumbled, oblivious to my sudden reverie. “We’ll just see about that.”