Chapter 151 (Patreon)

Chapter 151

I pulled Donut into the first pub we passed. It looked like a regular, in-theme building from the outside, but inside it was some sandwich place called Eegees. Donut was still trembling with rage and fear. I didn’t bother going all the way into the personal space. The proprietor was a female Bopca named Marta. A pair of older Ursine sat in the corner, both sipping on drinks in Styrofoam cups.

I put Donut down on a booth table. She looked like she was about to start hyperventilating. She removed her sunglasses, and her eyes were wide and dilated. Her entire body quaked.

“Take a deep breath,” I said.

“What if he doesn’t come back?” she said, her lower jaw trembling. “Carl, we need to go back out there.”

“What is wrong with you?” I asked. My anger at her was starting to be replaced with worry. “If they had attacked, all three of us would be dead right now. This isn’t like you. You’re freaking out. Worse than usual. Have you been hit with a spell?” I quickly examined her, but if there was a debuff, it wasn’t showing anything. That didn’t necessarily mean anything. I rubbed my hands across her. “Are you hurt?”

Donut didn’t answer. Her lower jaw continued to tremble.

“Look, I know you love Mongo, but you can’t lose control like that.”

“What if he doesn’t come back,” she asked again.

“Then we’ll deal with it, but something tells me he’s going to be fine. I’m more worried about you.”

Donut didn’t talk for several moments.

“I’m really scared, Carl.”

“I know you are,” I said. “I am too. It’s okay to admit it. Anybody who says they’re not is either crazy or they’re lying.”

“You don’t understand. It’s getting worse. Every day.”

My hand was still on her back, and I started stroking her. I still didn’t know what was going on. She’d seemed fine just a few minutes earlier before Mongo had run off. She’d really taken to becoming the town leader. And then suddenly she’d lost it. It didn’t make sense.

“Talk to me,” I said.

She looked as if she wanted to run. Like that look she got whenever somebody ran the vacuum cleaner or bathtub.

“Donut,” I said, changing tactics. “It’s okay. Tell me when you’re ready. We’ll just sit here and wait for Mongo to come back.” We didn’t have time for this, but I didn’t know what else to do. Donut was completely useless when she got into panic mode. And worse, she was a danger to both of us. I had to figure this out.

Five full minutes passed of me just stroking her before she said anything.

“I’m supposed to pretend like I don’t know. And I was doing good. But then Mongo ran off and it just came out of nowhere. Like that time Miss Beatrice got in the car accident when we were on our way back from the cat show, and I’d been asleep, and then suddenly there was this big bang, and I slammed against the side of the carrier, and even though I wasn’t hurt, it really, really scared me. And when I thought Mongo was going to get eaten, it felt like that car crash all over again.”

I felt a chill. “You have to pretend like you don’t know what?” I asked. “What does that mean?”

“I… I can’t.” She took a breath. “Everybody always leaves me. And I don’t know why. Am I really that awful?”

“Where is this coming from? That’s not true at all,” I said.

“Katia left us,” she said. “And you’re doing more and more dangerous things, and I told Mordecai it was okay. But it’s not. You’re going to die because you’re being stupid, and you don’t even care what happens to me. Mongo is going to leave for some hussy. And then… and then…” She stopped.

“What?”

But she just shook her head. I looked at her, confused, trying to puzzle it out. Before we’d gone out there and started organizing the town guards, I’d gone into the crafting room to build a few more of the missile launchers. Donut had trained in the magic room, working on her Laundry Dayspell. And then what?

She’d been on the social media board, reading comments.

“Did somebody say something that upset you? Somebody online?”

Her eyes started to shine, and I knew I was right. Her mouth quavered. “I… I…”

Zev: Hey guys!

Carl: Bad timing, Zev.

Zev: I just wanted to quickly touch base. We moved up the schedule a little. You’ll be visiting with Odette later today. Try not to schedule a boss battle or anything during that time.

Donut: WILL YOU BE THERE?

Zev: I will be. I also wanted to remind you that you will be receiving some extra scrutiny before you go to the trailer. So just be aware. But you’ll be fine, because you’re both really strong and brave. Especially you, Donut.

Carl: Okay, thank you Zev. But we’re a little busy right now, so kindly leave us be.

But the moment I sent the message, I realized that the timing was no coincidence. Zev rarely interrupted us when we were in the middle of something, especially drama. I knew Zev and Donut were somehow communicating via the social media board, but I had no idea how, and I had no way of safely asking her without putting everybody in danger.

Zev’s uncharacteristic interruption was a not-so-subtle warning to drop it. I’d get a chance to ask both of them freely when we were in the production trailer.

I took a deep breath.

“Donut, I know I’m doing some dangerous stuff. That’s never going to change. But I’ll consult you from now on if I can. I promise. I’m not going to leave you.”

“You’ve already said that,” Donut said. She paused. “But what about the ninth floor?”

And there it was. Whatever Donut was hiding, it was only a symptom of the real problem.

Thanks to the enchanted crown of the sepsis whore, which she didn’t even have anymore, Donut wouldn’t be allowed to exit the ninth floor until every other member of the Blood Sultanate royal family was dead. I remembered the important part of the item’s description:

Placing this crown upon your head permanently places you within the royal line of succession for the Blood Sultanate on the ninth floor of the world dungeon. Removing this item will not remove this status. Royal members of the Blood Sultanate will be required to slay the Sultan and all other members of the royal family before descending to the tenth floor.

That task—killing all the nagas—was even more difficult than it appeared on the surface.

“We’ll deal with it when we get there.”

Donut just looked at me. We’d been here before, had this same conversation more than once, and this was always where we left it. We’ll deal with it when we get there. But that wasn’t good enough. Not anymore, and we both knew it.

That feeling, that ceaseless river within my mind, roared. Something within me broke. A decision was made. I thought of my mother, holding my hand as we stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon. I thought of my father in the car, behind us, waiting. A tidal wave of potential energy. This was the same. This was the same exact moment. I didn’t know how I knew that, but it was.

You can do that, I thought. You can see these things sometimes.

I took both of my hands, and I cupped Donut’s face. “You know how worried you are about Mongo?”

“Yes.”

“That’s how I feel about you.”

Donut blinked. “Really? Do you really mean that?” Her voice was so full of genuine longing that it hurt my heart.

“I know I haven’t said this to you directly before, and I’m sorry that I haven’t. But I will not leave you behind on the ninth or any other floor. I promise you. Okay? We are a team, and nothing is going to break us up. No matter what.”

“No matter what?”

“No matter what.”

We held that way for several moments. Donut trembled, and I realized I was trembling, too. Anybody watching this from the outside wouldn’t understand what had just happened. That was okay. Some things weren’t meant for others to understand.

I watched her swallow a few times and start to compose herself. The moment had finally passed. I sighed and waited for it.

“I don’t know why you’re being so dramatic, Carl. We should be…”

She stopped mid-sentence, jumped up, and rocketed out the door. I saw the dot on the map a moment later. Mongo was out there. I got up and followed her outside. I watched as the dinosaur drunkenly stumbled past the guards. I jogged up as Donut clucked over him. “Are you okay?” Donut was asking. “What did she do to you? You don’t have any weird diseases now do you? She looked like the type of dinosaur to have diseases.”

Mongo croaked once and then collapsed right there on the street. His health bar was still full.

Donut gasped with concern as I barked with laughter. Two funeral bells loomed over us, both looking down at the dinosaur.

I kneeled down and patted Mongo on the head. “If I still had cigarettes, I’d let you have one, buddy.”

Mongo made a peeping noise.

“That’s not funny, Carl,” Donut said.

She pulled out the pet carrier, and Mongo didn’t object as she pulled him away.

“At least their dots turned white,” Donut said a moment later, looking off toward the edge of town.

I followed her gaze. A few dozen of the lady Mongos stood there at the edge of the woods, looking toward us. Kiwi stood at the center. Her lighter feathers stood out against the dark green foliage. She lifted her head to the sky and let out an unk unk unk.

“Her dot is red for me,” I said.

“That’s odd,” Donut said.

I shrugged and felt myself smile. “You probably get extra points because you’re her mother-in-law now.”

Donut made a scoffing noise. She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Carl, there’s more dinosaurs out there, a little deeper in the woods. They weren’t there before. But there’s a really big one. The dot isn’t red.”

“Shit, is it getting closer?”

“No. It’s just standing there. Actually, no, it turned around and is moving away. I don’t know if it makes a difference, but I better turn the no-dinosaur rule back on.”

“That’s probably a good idea. If we have time, we’ll try to figure out the dinosaur quest.”

Kiwi cried out one more time and then melted back into the jungle. Soon, all the dinosaurs were gone.  As they moved away, the trees rustled with their passage. I caught glint of something in the forest, like light shining off a prism. Just as I tried to focus on the light, the day become dark, and it started to rain.

Donut jumped to my shoulder and huddled against my neck. “Carl, do you think she got pregnant?”

“Most definitely,” I said.

“I’m too young and pretty to be a grandmother.”

New Achievement! Double-Billed!

You are one of the first five crawlers to receive double-billing! I bet you don’t know what that means. This is similar to switch-overs, but this time it’s on purpose. I bet that didn’t help at all.

Reward: You have received a Platinum Fan Box!

“The fuck?” I muttered. I examined my view counter, and the needle was buried to the right. But it had been since Donut had run off. I was going to have to reset it. “Donut, did you just get some weird, random achievement?”

“No. It’s probably because you spread your tootsies funny on the moss or something.” She paused. “My word. Now that you’ve mentioned it, my view counter is a bit high right now. Probably a bunch of perverts tuning in to watch Mongo get violated. Well the show is over.”

Far behind us, the sound of a missile shot into the air, followed by a detonation.

I cursed, took a deep breath, and patted Donut. The rain was getting heavier by the moment, and it pelted into us. “Are we good? No more panic attacks?”

“Really, Carl. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Good,” I said. “Time to get back to work.”

~

We jogged back to the other side of town. It’d been sunny just a few minutes before, but now it was absolutely pouring. We found Mordecai standing near the northern gate by the bridge, peering out while flanked by two of the funeral bells. He stood underneath the bell of one of the mushrooms in an attempt to stay dry. It wasn’t working.

One of the guards had shot an anti-air missile at an approaching hunter. Mordecai said it was a Yenk using a levitation spell, not a mantis, so it wasn’t Vrah or a member of the hive.

“I doubt he’s dead, but they knocked him out of the sky,” Mordecai said. “He popped up on the other side of the river. If he’s not dead, he’s probably going to try to find another way around. He’s a yenk, so he’s probably working alone. But it’s possible he’s part of a bigger team.”

Yenks were humanoid aliens with ridged foreheads and bony exo-skeletons, almost like malnourished Klingons from Star Trek, only taller. Ikicha, who’d written the 11th edition of the cookbook was one. They weren’t too common of a race, but I’d seen a few here and there in audiences, especially on the Maestro’s show. They were an odd species with some weird-ass reproduction method. There were three genders, and all three were required to make babies. The women and children lived in peaceful communities along with the unintelligent third gender, whatever it was called. I didn’t know the details. The males were forced out once they reached maturity. The males were known as powerful fighters. They became bounty hunters and mercenaries, but they couldn’t work with other adult males of their kind, lest they fight. Like beta fish.

I knew Ikicha had been a castrated male, but he was pretty light on the details about what that meant.

“He’s still out there,” Donut said after a moment. “Or another hunter. I can see his dot.”

I looked, but I didn’t see anything. We stood on the threshold of town, right at the edge of the bridge. Below, the river splashed with the torrential downpour. The water level had risen even though it’d only been raining for a few minutes. I thought of the naiad that had jumped out and eaten the mayor.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“I think he might be stuck in a tree,” Donut said, pointing to just the right of where the covered bridge met the slope on the opposite shore. “Maybe when they shot him out of the sky, he landed there and he can’t get down. Or maybe he’s waiting for the rain to stop.”

“Hmm” I said. “Do you think it’s a trap?”

“Maybe,” Mordecai said. “If it’s not, and he’s not dead, he’s probably unconscious. These guys all load themselves up with as many health potions as they can carry, so he’s not just going to be sitting there injured in a tree.”

“Let’s find out,” I said.

I cast Ping.

“There you are,” I said. There was only one hunter in range. He was stuck in a tree all right. The moment I cast Ping, the tree started shaking violently as the alien tried to get away.

“He’s not knocked out,” Donut said. “What is he doing?”

“He must be impaled,” Mordecai said.

Ping couldn’t find red-tagged mobs or fellow crawlers, but it found everything else. As the map populated with multi-colored dots, I saw something that made my heart skip.

“Shit,” I said. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was a day sooner than I hoped.

I wasn’t certain what that “double-billed” achievement really meant, but I was starting to get an idea.

“What? What?” Donut asked.

“It’s a trap all right, but it’s not set by other hunters. Or crawlers.” I focused on the small crowd of dots hidden just past the tree. It was seven white dots and then two more: white dots with red crosses within. One of the seven white dots was in the tree with the hunter. This one was long, like a snake, and it was wrapped around the hunter, keeping him in place.

Elites. The fact they weren’t moving off told me everything I needed to know.

~

“Okay, so we have the four cretin bodyguards and the two spells. My client is requesting two more items, and we’ll have a deal.”

“We’ve been more than generous,” the kua-tin said. The dour Borant admin had pretended to hem and haw about giving us the four bodyguards, but the moment Quasar had mentioned that Zerzura spell, he’d practically creamed himself. The mudskippers did not have good poker faces, which made me appreciate Zev’s ability to stay in character so well. Behind him, Orren the liaison grunted with amusement from his chair. He hadn’t said a word once the negotiations started.

“This second request is easy,” Quasar said. “We’re pretty sure you’re already going to award this to them, but we want it to be a lock.”

“What is it?” the nameless kua-tin asked.

Quasar gave me a little wink. This one had also been his idea. Only the third item on the negotiation list was my own, though it tied in nicely with the first and second request.

“As we all know, the sixth floor is where most of these secondary programs go to die. We also know, a limited number of programs are given licenses to continue upon the collapse of the sixth floor. We want for you to extend one of those licenses to Sensation Entertainment, Incorporated for their program, Vengeance of the Daughter.”

Before the Borant rep could respond, Orren spoke up. “Not possible,” he said. “Secondary program licenses are granted by AI decision, and not until the end of the floor. And if there are multiple eligible programs, the license is granted via lottery.”

“Actually, you’re wrong there, buddy-boy,” Quasar said. “Look into subsection 674, paragraph five or six of the secondary program amendment. Showrunners who are running at lower-than-expected profits are allowed to give emergency use to a single program.”

Orren went still for a moment. “That’s a pretty old rule,” he said after a moment. He shrugged. “They’ll have to agree to it, and they’ll have to pay an extra twenty percent to Borant. They might not be willing. Assuming the show survives past this current arc, there’s a good chance they’ll get the extension anyway.”

“They’ve already agreed. I’ve already asked,” Quasar said, waving his cell-phone-like device.

“Agreed,” the kua-tin said. “But this one needs to be kept quiet. One mention out loud, and it’s negated.” This, again, was something Quasar said they’d happily agree to. It basically guaranteed them a few extra million credits.

But more importantly, it guaranteed Vengeance of the Daughter the equivalent of a third season. Not all secondary programs were allowed to send their elites to the ninth floor. It was a coveted reward, and Sensation Entertainment would leap at the opportunity. It would also, once again, give them an incentive to keep me alive. Especially if Borant agreed to my third request.

Sensation Entertainment hadn’t actually agreed to anything yet. That was a bluff. Quasar attempted to contact the producers, but they’d been unavailable. He insisted they’d agree to it. And if they didn’t, well… He’d let me know.

“You said there was one additional item you wanted,” Orren said. “I just can’t wait to hear what this one is.”

~

Carl: Quasar. Time’s up. I need to know if you ever heard back from them.

Quasar: Yo, yo, yo. I’m a bit busy right now. Maybe drunk. Maybe having some alone time with the missus. You know how it goes. If you are a client, I will read this message and get back to you. If you’re a bill or tax collector, fuck off. This is an automated message.

Carl: Goddamnit, Quasar. What the fuck? I need to know.

He’d promised he’d message me if there was a deal, but last I’d heard, they were still thinking about it. If there was no deal, there was no incentive for them to keep me alive. My death would be glorious for ratings, and they’d probably get access to the ninth floor anyway. If there was a deal, then I was safe. From them, at least, and I had more options.

“Two elites?” Mordecai said. “That’s unexpected.”

I looked at Donut. “Your choice. Stay here and continue to set up the town’s defenses, or come with me. I’m the only one listed on the contract.”

She returned to my shoulder. “Didn’t we just have this conversation, Carl?”

I grinned. “I figured, but I also promised to give you the choice.”

Donut looked up at the closest mushroom guard. “Miss Nance. I am leaving Mordecai here in charge. Now, he’s not allowed to fight, but he can tell you what to do. Keep setting up the town’s defenses, but if any of those bad guys attack, you first need to bring Mordecai to a saferoom whether he likes it or not. Do you understand?”

Miss Nance grunted.

Donut sighed dramatically. “Also, do not let any dinosaurs into town, but if the one with the pink feathers attacks, try not to kill her. We’ll have to deal with her eventually, but we simply must take care of this first.”

“Be careful,” Mordecai called after us. “Remember what this is. Don’t put yourself in a position where it’s either her or you. Even now. Just because you’re both top 10 doesn’t mean shit to those other showrunners.”

“Come on, Donut,” I said as we walked out onto the bridge and left town.

“Carl, I know you promised not to get involved with any other secondary programs, but is this absolutely necessary? It seems like it’s a distraction we don’t need right now.”

“It’s necessary,” I said. “After the third floor, she’s going to be friendly to us. We need all the help we can get right now.”

“Okay, if you say so. The last time I saw her, she put me in a coma and left me to die alone in the city at night while Mongo defended me.”

“Signet,” I called as we neared the edge of the bridge. “There’s no need for all this hiding in the bushes bullshit. We know you’re there.”

The tattooed, horned, almost-naked half-naiad emerged and crossed her arms as we approached.

Tsarina Signet.

I’d forgotten how disturbing her face was. Samantha the sex doll head was also a half-naiad, but Samantha looked mostly human. Sort of. She was still a decapitated love doll. Signet, however, favored the more demon-like, monstrous visage of her naiad heritage.

Tsarina Signet - Half Naiad, Half High-Elf Summoner. Level 60

That was the same level she’d been before. Apparently elites didn’t progress. Level 60 was still higher than my 54, but she no longer seemed so terrifying, so overwhelmingly powerful.

“Who said anything about hiding, old friend,” Signet said. She had some spell running that kept the rain off of her. The familiar tattoos swirled about her. The three-headed ogre stopped to look upon me, and he waved. “We came seeking you, but then we found others are seeking you as well. I have a few friends ranging north to keep the path clear, but one of the others managed to sneak past us. Most of the invaders are avoiding this area, but some idiots have destroyed a few of the bridges, making this town the only access point in the area to the Liana district.”

A second elite appeared from the bushes. I’d been expecting this to be Grimaldi, the city boss who’d escaped the third floor. It was not. It was Apollon the Mighty, the ogre strongman who’d given me a parasite-infested ice cream cone. I had thought he’d died on the third floor.

But no, I realized. This wasn’t Apollon. It was another strongman who looked similar. This one was a level-45 ogre named Areson the Wise. But before I could fully examine him, a group of six, small-sized creatures emerged, all coming to stand to glare at me.

All wore black, studded leather from neck to toe. Each wore a pair of weapons over their shoulders, no two the same. They wore no helmets, but each of the male, pale-skinned warriors had red bandanas wrapped tight around their fuzzy heads, Rambo-style. All stood about three feet tall. All were wide, but not fat. More like miniature, well-built football players. Stout like a row of armored barrels. Their wide-set, wide-eyed faces glared at me and Donut with mistrust. One had a genuine mullet. Two had shaved heads. Another a mohawk. One’s face was painted with camouflage.

My initial impression was that they were smaller-sized dwarves. They were too tall to be gnomes. About the right size to be a Bopca, and just as hairy, but the wrong body shape. Their features were elf-like. Almost hobbit like, really, but that wasn’t quite it, either. These guys ranged in level from 48 to 53. All of them were well-scarred and battle worn.

I examined the closest one. This was a bald-headed one with a flat face and big, brown eyes. He had a mace and a machete crossed over his back. I realized this one was missing one of his feet, perhaps his entire leg, and a curved, metallic bar sat where his boot should be, emerging out of the leather pants.

Clint Smashgrab. Level 50. Were-Kin. Light Recon Specialist.

A long time ago, Clint and his people were of a race called the Chee. They were peaceful. Carpenters, mostly. But then the High Elves wanted their land, and that was that. What happened to them next is a pretty awful story.

There are no Chee left in this realm. There are survivors of that night, when the High-Elves invaded their land. But there are no Chee.

So I’m going to assume you know what a werewolf is. This isn’t a werewolf. Or maybe it is. It’s a were-kin. That’s all you know until either he tells you what he turns into, or he shows you what he turns into, or he bites you, and you find out for yourself.

Clint and his brothers have joined forces with Tsarina Signet. They have a common enemy.

“What do you think they turn into?” Donut whispered. “Do you think it’s a dog? I hope not. I don’t think I can handle them turning into dogs. They’re certainly hairy enough.”

A seventh creature appeared, climbing out of the tree. This wasn’t a snake like I originally assumed, but a massive caterpillar, about as long as Mongo with his tail. It was a yellow and black and segmented and covered with long, pointy hairs, about as tall as my waist. I shivered at the sight of the thing. Its large, bug head hissed at me as it scuttled behind the row of warriors. A row of six saddles sat upon the back of the caterpillar.

And tied prone across the row of saddles was the hunter. A level-50 Yenk named Bravvo. The left side of his body was burned where he’d been hit with the missile. The skeletal creature’s wide eyes looked up at me in fear. His health was almost all the way drained.

“I thought at first I could use this one for my blood sacrifice,” Signet said. “But instead I think perhaps I will allow you to choose what to do with him. He claims he was hunting you, and it is your people who knocked him from the sky, so it is your kill.”

“He was hunting us, yes,” I said, stepping forward.

“What would you like to do with him?” Signet asked.

“Heal him,” I said.

Signet nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve grown in strength, Carl. But you’re still soft.”

“No,” I said. I pulled the ring from my inventory and slipped it onto my finger. “Not anymore.”

~

Hey all! I hope this comes in still in June. But if not, I apologize. We have a fan box poll coming up, too. I hope you're all doing well!