The portal took them to a filthy room, fifty feet wide and long, with a low ceiling that Roland’s helmet almost touched. The brick walls were covered in something that could be caked mud and probably wasn’t. The whole place could have used some time with an industrial sander and seven coats of paint.

  The floor was unfinished concrete with stains of many colors, some of them gleaming wetly in the weak light of a lightbulb hanging from a wire cage on the ceiling.

  The only way out was an open metal trapdoor near one of the walls. An attached metal ladder led down.

  The smell filling the room was pure ‘eau du cloaca.’ And the atmosphere would work great for the next iteration of Silent Hill.

  “Sewer level,” Barton said. “Because of course we have to go into a sewer.”

  “I didn’t know you were germophobic,” Bob told him.

  “I am now. We’re getting dipped in human waste!”

  “Keep the noise down to a dull roar,” Roland said. “We might have hostiles nearby.”

  People quieted down.

  Roland half-expected Raven to make a comment, but when he looked around, the bird was nowhere to be seen. Figures.

  “Bloh. Dee,” Bloodykee whispered, a clawed finger over his lips.

  Roland ignored him and nodded to Wendy. “You’re up.”

  She nodded back, looking nothing like the quiet, almost mousy girl Roland had met the day before. The elf ears and big-eyes-small-mouth transformation was the least of it. There was a self-assurance that hadn’t been there before. And from the way Josh fidgeted as she stepped toward the trapdoor, her brother didn’t like it one bit.

  She leaned over it, Roland by her side just in case the ‘antechamber’ wasn’t as safe as advertised. The ladder led fifteen feet down, where a tunnel waited for them.

  “I can cast Extended Senses down there, but I have to specify which direction my senses will be aimed at,” she said. “So, I’ll do it twice to see both ways down the tunnel.”

  Roland nodded. “Perfect.”

  “That’s a great Skill for dungeoneering,” Barton said in a quiet voice. “I have a Lesser Scry Hex that does something similar, but it’s a Tier Three spell. Better to save the slots for something better.”

  Wendy closed her eyes, subvocalizing the name of the Skill.

  “Okay, it’s up. Only lasts three seconds, but this side of the tunnel goes on for, uh, forty-five yards before hitting a T-intersection. There are light bulbs like the one here, so we should be able to see without those goggles.”

  She did it again, looking in the other direction, and found that the tunnel there led to a closed metal door, twenty yards away.

  “Are you guessing the distances, or do you know?” Bob asked her.

  “Ah, there is a rangefinder app in the Interface,” she said.

  “There is?”

  “Yeah,” Roland confirmed. “Pull down the menu for Display Options. You can leave it turned on, but it gets annoying after a while, having ranges popping up all the time.”

  “You should all take the time to read the user manual,” Barton said. “I did as soon as we could see our displays. You could be missing out on all kinds of functionality.”

  “Good thing we are gamers,” Bob said. “People who spend all their free time watching sports won’t have a clue about any of this.”

  “Great,” Josh muttered. “Damn nerds get a leg up.”

  “Door or intersection?” Dahlia cut in, getting back to business.

  “Kee.”

  “Bloodykee says door,” she translated.

  “We should at least see what the intersection leads to,” Bob said. “We don’t want to have wandering mobs showing up while we’re trying to get through the door.”

  “What mobs?” Josh asked.

  “Monsters. Wandering monsters.”

  “More Magic crap,” Josh grumbled.

  “Can you reach the intersection from here?” Roland asked Wendy.

  She shook her head. “My maximum range is a hundred feet per level. Would have to go down there and get closer.”

  Roland would have liked to prepare an OPORD, operation orders in Army jargon. Unfortunately, with half the party consisting of civilian gamers, issuing an OPORD would be as successful as getting cats to perform a synchronized swimming routine. And besides, they didn’t have enough information to make a plan.

  “Before we move on, let’s get prepared. Dahlia, draw your cards. Might as well know what you can do if the crap hits the fan.”

  “If the shit. If the shit hits the fan,” Dahlia corrected him with a grin as she concentrated.

  Six MiniFiend cards appeared in the air, all glowing purple. For a moment, all they could see was the back of the cards, but Dahlia narrowed her eyes and now both sides of the cards showed what they were.

  “Got three Fiends, one Apotheosis, and two Boons,” she said.

  “Nice,” Barton said. “Which Fiends?”

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Rattabatta, Snakothoro, and a super-rare one, Sangara?a.”

  “Sangara?a is the tarantula that spits webs made out of blood, right?” Barton said, demonstrating his knowledge of MiniFiend. He had learned the game in another vain attempt to ingratiate himself to her.

  “Sangie’s webs burn and restrain, yeah,” Dahlia said. “AOE and crowd control in one wall-crawling package. Cost me two hundred bucks to buy her card off that snooty guy at Dream Factory.”

  “Awesome,” Barton added. “And you got some good Boons: Speed Fiend and Twinner.”

  “Moving on,” Roland said. “Don’t summon any Fiends yet, Dahlia. We can keep them in reserve for now.”

  For a second Dahlia’s face tightened in a ‘you’re not the boss of me’ expression Roland had seen a few times over the gaming table.

  Then she grinned at him. “Anything you say, Captain Death.”

  “Captain Death. Got a nice ring to it,” Bob said.

  “Stay on mission,” Roland said, ignoring the nickname; best not to feed the trolls. “Barton, memorize three combat Hexes, leave the rest of your slots open for now.”

  Juggling people, two of them with separate mini-systems of their own, was a major pain. Roland was willing to micromanage them, at least until they got the hang of it. Everybody there was a raw recruit, and a little handholding was necessary.

  “Okay, gonna use three Tier I’s which will leave me with seven Tiers open. Loading two Magick Darts and one Fiery Bolt. Will take me two minutes.”

  “Okay. While he does that, everyone make sure you have any useful toggles turned on.”

  Two minutes later, everyone was ready, with Bob, Barton and Dahlia glowing in assorted colors after their nimbus-type Skills were deployed. Wendy had a nimbus that generated a continuous heal: it glowed light blue and made Roland itch whenever it touched him.

  The aura’s beneficial effects were useless for Roland, of course. He felt his own aura reacting negatively to Wendy’s life-giving effect, and he clamped down on it, triggering a pang in his damaged Dantian.

  Got to fix this.

  Josh didn’t have any defensive Skills, of course. Roland made an executive decision and put on his Ring of the Bodyguard.

  “Gonna need a drop of your blood,” he told Josh.

  “What? No! Why?”

  “He needs your blood, he gets your blood,” Dahlia said helpfully. “He’s Captain Death.”

  “Blood. Dee,” her pet monster added.

  “I’ve got a ring that will protect you,” Roland explained, extending the hand with the ring on. “But to activate it I need a drop of your blood.”

  “Give it to Wendy,” Josh said. “I want her to be safe.”

  Roland shook his head. “Hate to tell you this, bro, but she’s better equipped to survive than you.”

  “Healer should be the priority,” Bob cut in. “Always protect the healer.”

  “I can protect myself,” Wendy said. “Just do it, Josh.”

  “Argh! The fuck was that?” Josh shouted.

  ‘That’ turned out to be one of Dahlia’s playing cards, which had inflicted a pretty deep paper cut on Josh’s cheek. The card flew toward Roland, trailing blood droplets, and left a red smear on top of the ring finger and his fingers. He felt the ring activate and a line of energy extend from his aura to Josh.

  I didn’t know she could do that, he thought.

  And from the way her eyes widened when she did her card trick, she hadn’t known it until it happened, either.

  Josh wasn’t happy. “You cut me, bitch.”

  “Lucky for you that he didn’t need a pint of blood,” she told him in a sweet tone. “No more ‘Blood for the Blood God’. Now it’s Blood for the Reaper!”

  Something about the way she spoke sent a shiver down Roland’s back.

  Got to remember that not just a card captor player, he told himself. She’s more than a bit nutty. And kinda hot.

  “You need the protection more than me, Josh,” Wendy said softly. “Everyone is going to be looking out for me because I can heal them. And I can heal myself. You’re in more danger than me.”

  Josh took it as well as any guy whose little sister tells him she needs to take care of him.

  “This is fucking bullshit,” he growled before turning to Dahlia. “And if you touch me again, I’ll – ”

  “Bloodykee,” the ball of fur said in a reverb voice without a hint of cuteness to it. A voice that belonged to Balrog’s daddy’s boss. “Blood.”

  “This bullshit stops now,” Roland said, using full profanity for emphasis and putting some aura into his voice even though it hurt his Dantian. The result had more weight than the Undead furball’s voice. It got everyone’s attention.

  “No hurting party members. Ever,” he told Dahlia, who glared briefly before lowering her eyes.

  He turned to Josh. “No threatening party members, either.”

  Josh shrugged, then nodded.

  “And we’ve made more than enough noise to attract every wandering monster on this level, so let’s hope there aren’t any,” he added before giving them their marching orders.

  “I’m going down first, then Bob and Josh. I watch the intersection, you two watch the door and move up a bit to let everyone else climb down. Wendy, you come down next and get behind me. Then Dahlia and her pet, then Barton. We’ll take it from there.”

  “Roger that,” Bob said.

  Roland went down the ladder. The tunnel itself was narrow, barely enough for two people to stand side by side, with an arched ceiling. The ground was covered in muddy muck that stuck to his Roach-Stomper Boots and squelched with every step.

  He took a position facing the intersection, Executioner’s Gun in his hands.

  Bob came next; as soon as his feet hit the ground, he stepped toward the door. His shiny shield and his (upgraded to Rare) Desert Eagle pistol appeared in his hands. He braced the gun on the shield as he took a knee, aiming it one-handed.

  Everyone else managed to reach the tunnel without falling on their ass or someone else’s head.

  “I need to get a little closer to the intersection,” Wendy said.

  “Okay. Stay behind me,” Roland said.

  They had gone just far enough down the tunnel when the first of many large Ratlings came from around the corner.

  As it turned out, all the yelling had indeed alerted every wandering monster on the level.

  Ratling Guardian (Beastkin)

  F-Grade Lieutenant

  Health 180 Endurance 120 Mana 70

  These rats were beefier versions of the Champions, with more hit points, more muscles, and more body odor. Like gym bros who swam in human waste for fun.

  “Back to the group!” Roland told Wendy as he faced the furries. “And someone watch our six!”

  Bob or Josh would understand the order and keep an eye on the door behind them. Getting blindsided was a great way to get a party wipeout.

  He shot a rat in the face and sent Executioner’s Gun to his inventory as the now mostly faceless rat closed in, hurting but still alive. Spirit Weapons grew out of Roland’s hands; he proceeded to shish kebab it in the groin and heart. The rat squealed like a pig and went down.

  Two others were behind the dead Guardian, but the narrow tunnel made it almost impossible for the mobs to coordinate effectively. Roland backed up a few steps and called his naginata. Time to slice and dice.

  Behind him, there was a burst of black light followed by a crack of thunder. A jagged lightning bolt made of red-tinged darkness forked around Roland and hit both rats dead-on, shearing off a couple dozen hit points from each monster. The big rats staggered.

  Taking advantage of the situation, Roland’s blade darted in and out. A gorilla-like hand fell off a rat’s bleeding stump and spattered on the muck at their feet. The other Ratling clutched at its gushing throat, slashed open twice, once per carotid artery.

  The unhanded rat ate three glowing miniature stars Barton threw at it. The magic missiles burned through its chest and released puffs of smoke that stunk of charred flesh. The Lieutenant fell face-first to the ground with limp finality.

  Three more Guardians were crowding the tunnel. Roland activated Reaper’s Dance and closed in.

  It wasn’t much of a fight.

  When he looked back, he saw that Josh and Bob were facing the door, which thankfully hadn’t opened. Everyone else was facing his side, ready to back him up, but the Dungeon seemed to have run out of wandering rats.

  The six that had entered the tunnel were in thirteen separate pieces. Not counting fingers. Lots of fingers had been sliced off. That happened surprisingly often when monsters with humanoid hands tried to grab a guy with a naginata.

  Even better, there were six loot bags hovering over wherever the biggest portion of a body was.

  “Loot!” Barton said in the tone of a pilgrim seeing his holy land of choice for the first time.

  And there was loot. And the loot wasn’t the best, but, like pizza, it was still good even when it wasn’t the best.