Dungeon Crawler Carl Book 2

by DoctorHepa

  My eyes caught movement, and I finally saw one of the monsters we’d been facing in the dark.

  The beast was a thirteen-foot-tall pile of body parts, all sewn together haphazardly as it shuffled forward. It was like Doctor Frankenstein had dropped acid before he made his creation. I saw legs and arms and torsos, all smushed together. But there were heads, too. Lots of heads, all human. The thing moved and was shaped like a giant slug. Tentacles made of arms and legs twirled above it, waving in the air. The heads all groaned in unison.

  The thing was terrifying to behold, and I was glad I was now up here and not on the ground facing it.

  Shambling Berserker – Level 12

  If you weren’t fortunate enough to face one of these neighborhood boss monsters on the first level of the dungeon, fret not! Now’s your chance to get in on the fun!

  You know how you sometimes buy something from IKEA, and after you’re done putting it all together, you have a few parts left over? It happens to the best of us. What you see here is a Shambling Berserker, the smallest iteration of this creature. Also known as the Mini Grinder or the Shrilling, this creature consists of extra parts we found after creating the World Dungeon. Waste not, want not.

  This undead abomination is oftentimes found in groups, summoned as a slow, but very tenacious assassin. Once you’re targeted by these guys, they don’t stop. The good news is, they’re mostly harmless. Unless, of course, you face one in the dark. Their power is quadrupled in the dark. And once they go berserk, there’s no putting them down. They ain’t so slow after that.

  So, yeah, actually, you’re probably fucked.

  I thought of Mrs. Parsons, my downstairs neighbor before all this started. She’d been beheaded in the collapse. Her head had fallen at my feet, but the rest of her had gone down into the depths with the rest of the building. Had they used her headless body for one of these things?

  As I watched, Mongo emerged from a pile of gore, where he’d been having a snack, and he squealed, running at full speed toward the monster and leaping, feet first. The shambling berserker tumbled back and fell apart, groaning as it died.

  “They’re really easy to kill,” Donut said. “They just fall apart.”

  “That’s because it’s not dark anymore,” I said. I felt as if I’d been hit by a damn truck. I still didn’t know exactly what had happened. “I’m pretty sure our Featherfall friend sent these dudes after us.”

  “Probably. Also, I think we should have a new rule,” Donut said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s quite evident we shouldn’t be throwing explosives when we’re blinded.”

  I laughed. “That sounds like a good rule.”

  Below, Mongo screeched with victory as he eviscerated the pile of the slow-moving body parts.

  “I got the neighborhood map,” Donut continued. “I can see there’s about ten more coming. Let me and Mongo kill them, and we’ll head back. This has been a great day for experience. I’ll hit 17 before we’re done. But we need to hurry. There’s a saferoom around the corner. I need to take a shower before we go on our interview.”

  I thought of us zapping into a production trailer looking like we did now, and I suddenly felt myself grin. I couldn’t help it. I just started laughing. It even sounded a little crazy to my own ears.

  “Okay,” I said. I pulled a hob-lobber out, tossing it in the air and catching it. “But let me kill a couple, too. I want to see how far I can really chuck these things.”

  A note from DoctorHepa

  Happy weekend everyone! If you live in a larger city, be careful out there. It can be a bit wild. Stay safe. Once again, thank you so much for reading. I really appreciate it. You guys are awesome!

  If you can't wait to find out what happens next, I'm several chapters ahead over on Patreon.

  * * *

  Chapter 66

  This was a different production trailer than the one we’d used for the Maestro’s show, but it was still a rental, according to the frisbee-shaped robot running the thing. The boat was even larger and more well-appointed than Odette’s private production trailer, and I had the sense this one was normally used for dignitaries and non-crawlers. Or maybe it was even a living quarters, as it had a large, bowl-shaped bed and a very nifty shower facilities.

  There was a tray set out with food, but it clearly wasn’t food from earth. It was little, purple, squiggly worm things, still alive. They smelled like fish. Donut and I decided neither of us were hungry. Mongo sniffed at the tray and slurped it all up.

  They’d likely rented this place at the last minute since I’d told Zev we didn’t have time to get properly cleaned up. She sounded as if she might cry over the chat when I told her. She started lecturing us on how we needed to be ready for our “media relations obligations.”

  The saferoom had been a bare-bones version with no food and only a single shower facilities. We’d soaked Donut, and I had Mordecai brushing her as I got ready. Still, by the time we needed to go, Donut’s fur remained heavily matted. The red, mud-like gore clung to her like paint. She needed to get back in the shower again, but we didn’t have time.

  So when we transferred to the production trailer, we’d moved to a special one that contained a shower that was straight out of the Jetsons cartoon. The frisbee robot thing’s name was D-0NAH, which Donut immediately translated to “Donna.” Donna told Donut to remove all of her gear—except her tiara of course—and to proceed to the shower. Mongo and I watched as the cat got on a treadmill thing that appeared to have been especially designed for her. It blasted her with water, air, some blue chemical, more water, more air, a robot arm brushed her, and then she got blasted again.

  When she came out the other side, she looked as if she was ready for judging at an international cat show. Her fur glistened. There was no indication that an hour earlier she’d been showered with the exploding gore of a multi-ton, long-dead sea creature boss. I watched as she re-equipped her crupper and the rest of her equipment. Donna ushered her back into the cleaning machine, and this time the mechanism focused on cleaning and polishing her gear. She stepped out, and the metal skirt gleamed. Mongo crept up to her and started sniffing at her suspiciously.

  “Carl, Donna tells me that one may purchase one of these all-purpose cleaners for a personal space. She says they’re expensive, but I think they’re absolutely well-worth it. We need to save our money. Quick, you go in there too. It is luxurious.”

  “Nah, I’m good,” I said.

  “Carl, the back of your cloak looks as if it was used as a sanitary napkin. You need to get cleaned.”

  “Crawler Carl, I have been instructed to inform you that you need to avail yourself of the cleaning facilities,” Donna the robot said. “You will be in the presence of royalty on the panel, and not presenting yourself properly is considered an insult.”

  Uh-oh. “Royalty? It’s not that Maestro asshole is it?”

  “Prince Maestro has been stripped of his titles and disowned by his father, so he is no longer considered royalty. But no, it is not anyone of the Skull Empire. You will receive a rundown of your fellow panelists at the preshow briefing, which will occur in ten minutes. Now please step into the cleaner.”

  “Okay, but I’m not getting naked,” I said. “Just clean the stuff people can see.”

  The robot paused. “Very well,” she said.

  “And then Mongo,” Donut said. “He smells really bad.”

  “Your pet will be required to be stored during the interview.”

  “Excuse me?” Donut said. I stepped into the machine to avoid listening to the ensuing argument. Donna continued talking to me while the treadmill resized itself, instructing me to lift my arms and turn around, but I could see through the plexiglass-like material that Donut was also arguing with the robot. I couldn’t hear what was happening, but I could tell Donut was pissed.

  Like with Odette’s trailer, this facility also had a porthole window. I faced the other direction and stared out at the wid
e expanse of open sea. Unlike the last two times, it was now light outside, and I could finally see the real world. A pair of silver, trailer-like objects floated in the ocean a couple hundred meters away. They looked like shipping containers, though they bobbed up and down like any regular ship. In the blue sky, a trio of shapes zipped through the air, astonishingly fast.

  I wondered how the other humans were doing, the ones who’d been smart enough not to go into the dungeon. The system had said they’d be left alone if they decided not to participate, but even through this little porthole looking through to some random place in the ocean, I could see that wasn’t true. How many spaceships and other vessels had descended on the planet? Were they really leaving the other humans alone? Or were they being exploited or hunted or enslaved?

  “We came to a compromise,” Donut announced once I stepped out. “Mongo is to be cleaned, but then he’s going into the carrier.”

  I spent the next five minutes watching Donut attempt to talk the dinosaur into walking onto the treadmill. I’d just watched the pet plunge headfirst into a 13-foot-tall undead zombie frittata, but the idea of getting clean appeared to terrify him. Donut finally succeeded by capturing him with the pet carrier and then zapping him back out directly on the contraption. The cleaner turned on, and the giant chicken started shrieking like a piglet being fed into a meat grinder. We could hear him even through the soundproofing of the device.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Donut called. “Mommy is right here!”

  He came out a moment later poofed up and smelling of lavender. He started running in circles around the trailer while Donna clucked after him nervously.

  Finally, Donut zapped him away, and the door at the end of the room opened. We walked into an empty studio with a large, round table. There was a section for a studio audience, but it was currently empty. Spotlights blazed over us. There was no desk like with Odette’s show, and there was no extra-ornate chair like with the Maestro’s stupid program. There was a simple, glowing sign against the back wall that read Danger Zone with Ripper Wonton.

  One of the chairs had Carl glowing over it, and the one next to it read Princess Donut. We both sat down. Like usual, Donut’s chair ascended into the air, allowing her to look over the table.

  “This is so exciting,” Donut said. “I always love going on new shows.”

  “Yeah, the last new one really worked out great,” I said.

  A strange creature appeared, entering the room from a door across the studio. I guessed the creature was a he, but I wasn’t certain. He was humanoid in shape, but absurdly thin. He stood about my height, and was entirely white and hairless. He had oversized, black eyes, like pools of a oil. A ridge grew from between his eyes and up, over his head, like a bony mohawk. He wore simple, white clothes. His entire body glowed. When he walked, he drifted as if his feet didn’t touch the ground.

  Since we were outside the game, he had no name floating over him. He came to hover beside the table.

  “Princess Donut and Carl, welcome to Danger Zone,” he said. His voice sounded like I would expect. Airey and halting, alien-like. He waved at us in greeting, moving languidly. He only had three fingers on each hand.

  “Hello. We are delighted to meet you,” Donut said. “Are you Ripper Wonton?”

  He chuckled softly. “No, Princess. My name is Evo. I am the program’s director. I wanted to greet you two personally before we bring everyone else online. We will be live, not pre-recorded. We have one other Crawler with us tonight, and she has already been briefed.” He indicated an empty chair. “She is sitting there at the moment and can’t see you.”

  “What’s the name of your race?” I asked.

  “Ahh, I am of a people called the Forsoothed. People generally call us Soothers,” Evo said.

  “We had a lot of fiction and movies about aliens, and a lot of them looked similar to you,” I said.

  “Yes, it is interesting,” Evo said. “Your culture showed the Null more than us, but we have seen examples of our people in your historical records and media. I do not know how you latched onto our likeness. It is most likely one of my brethren visited your world in the past. Some of my people are oddsmakers, and they likely visited this planet to get a sample of the human stock in order to make predictions for the crawl. Visiting the planet except for official Syndicate business was illegal, of course, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  “So alien abductions were really a thing?” I said. “Imagine that.”

  “What about the probes?” Donut asked. “I remember them talking about the probes on television.”

  “I assume you’re talking about anal probes?” Evo asked. “Yes, we’ve heard about this as well. If that really happened, it was likely done by the Null. You called them the Grays. They are a nasty, unpleasant race. Perverts, all of them.”

  Evo pointed at the chair immediately to my left. A static holographic image appeared. It was of a tentacle-faced woman wearing a crown. “We must move on. Sitting in this chair will be Princess D’nadia of the Prism. She is a race called the Saccathians. People call them Sacs. They are a common race, but D’nadia’s Prism kingdom is rather small. Still, she is a powerful force in certain trade circles and is quite outspoken. She is a regular on this program. She is a fan of you two and specifically asked to sit here.”

  I examined the squid woman. This was just a holographic representation, not the real deal. Her skin appeared gray and covered in bumps. A tangle of squid-like tentacles hung from her cephalopod face, like she was a human-sized Cthulhu. She wore a long, flowing dress, and there was no way to tell what was under it. The whole look kind of freaked me out.

  The next chair was a pudgy, fuzzy brown creature that looked like the result of a wombat/Ewok union. The thing only stood about four feet high, and he didn’t wear any clothes except a fucking orange scarf around his neck like Fred from Scooby Doo. He had two, huge cheeks and giant eyes. He was disgustingly cute. I vaguely remembered that Miss Quill had a beanbag version of this race sitting on her shelf.

  “Oh my,” Donut said. “That is positively adorable.”

  “This is your host, Ripper Wonton,” Evo said. “He is a race called a Setonix. People mostly call them Quokkas, though. He will lead the conversation. He is a good-hearted gentleman, despite his strong opinions. He will treat you fairly, but if he disagrees with your positions on anything, he will take you to task.”

  The next chair was another female. She was a silver and black Cobra-headed creature. The holograph towered over the table. Her hooded head had to be a meter wide.

  “This is Manasa. She is a famed singer. She’s a Naga, but do not worry,” Evo said. He looked at Donut. “She’s not of the Blood Sultanate, so you won’t have to kill her when you hit the ninth floor. She’s not really a Naga, either. The real Manasa perished long ago, but she contracted with the Valtay Corporation to keep her career going once she died.”

  I remembered what Odette had told me about the Valtay system. Their people were little parasites that took over bodies. “So she has a worm in her brain, driving her body?”

  “That is correct,” Evo said. “And her career is hotter than ever. Her latest single is currently ranked 8th in the entire universe.”

  The next chair was a stuffy-looking, middle-aged human named Tucker. A stand-up comedian. I disliked him already, based solely on the stupid grin on his holographic, punchable face.

  Then Evo revealed the last chair, and I immediately recognized the crawler sitting there. Donut gasped.

  It was Hekla. The blond-haired Icelandic woman who was now an Amazonian Shield Maiden. She ran the team Brynhild’s Daughters. I’d last seen her just a few nights earlier on the recap episode. Her people had been scattered upon entering the third floor, but she’d mostly regrouped, and they’d taken out an owlbear borough boss. I remembered she had an automatic, magical crossbow that tore everything up. The weapon was like a ranged chainsaw. I couldn’t tell what her stats were now, but two days ago she’d
hit level 25, the second Crawler to do so, just hours after Lucia Mar. Hekla’s muscles bulged as she leaned forward in her chair, and I realized this wasn’t a static hologram, but actually her.

  “Hi, Hekla!” Donut called across the table. She looked at me. “Carl, look. It’s Hekla!”

  “I can see, Donut,” I said.

  “Hello, Donut,” she said. She looked at me and nodded.

  “Is your team holding up okay?” I asked.

  “We are surviving,” she said. The woman held very little emotion in her voice. Her eyes were the color of sapphire. “One of the Daughters is near you. She recognized the circus from the episode and knows you’re in the vicinity. She wants to come back to the team, but I believe we are too far away. She needs some help leveling. Will you assist her? I will take it as a personal favor.”

  “Of course!” Donut said before I could respond. “We’d love to help your friend!”

  Goddamnit Donut. I paused. “Tell her to come to the One-eyed Narwhal tonight,” I said. “In the medium Skyfowl settlement. But just an FYI. We’re in the middle of something dangerous right now, and we won’t be able to slow down to help her. We’ll do what we can.”

  “Very well,” Hekla said. A slight smile curled her lip. “Just don’t blow her up.”

  * * *

  “As much as I dislike the Mudskippers,” Tucker the pompous asshat was saying, “I can’t help but feel that the Valtay have overstepped in their push to take over the season. The courts have long upheld the rights of those seeking bankruptcy protection, and I don’t see why that should change.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be a comedian?” Donut asked. “When are you going to say something funny?” The audience roared. “See, it’s not that hard.”

  To my left, Princess D’nadia trumpeted with her tentacles, a sound that apparently meant amused agreement. She kept attempting to grasp my hand, though her webbed claws just pushed through my own fingers. Manasa the cobra-headed pop singer also laughed, her forked tongue flipping in and out.