Damien moaned and clutched at his hand.

“You are fine, you, big baby,” I snapped. There wasn’t blood coming through his fingers. The asshole had been more scared than hurt by the gun exploding in his hands. How badly had he maintained it that that had happened?

Glocks are famously reliable. It’s one of the reasons law enforcement likes them so much. That and their relative inexpensiveness. They didn’t just explode in your hands. Damien had either messed this one up or bought it already damaged for a dirt-cheap price.

That thought made me give him another once over. The coat he was so proud of had a little fraying around the edges. His clothing underneath was thick, but a little grungy. I looked over at the backpack. It was worn too. I looked to the katana in Emilio’s hand. A bit of wood, almost like a dowel, was visible at the butt of the hilt extending past the soft cloth wrapping the handle. Not just a replica of some anime sword, a poorly made one. The homemade Armageddon bat had probably been made for only a few dollars and was just as probably the most reliable thing Damien had brought with him. Figured.

“What the hell is your problem?” he snapped up at me. “Get the first aid kit out of my backpack. I’m hurt!”

He’d brought a first aid kit. Wasn’t that thoughtful?

“Yes, a band aid is going to make it all better,” I said. “Show me your hand.”

He pulled his good hand away to show me the shiny flesh on his fingers. There was a small cut and more than a little dark staining. Soot. Ash. Whatever.

I slapped his hand down, making him cry out. “It ain’t serious you big baby.”

“Look at all that,” Damien said, waving his oh-so-wounded hand. “It’s going to get infected!”

I rolled my eyes.

He kicked out, catching me in the ankle. I dropped to one knee, grunting with pain. That kick hurt and the hard stone floor was not kind to my knee.

The knife in my hand, still coated in goblin blood, flew up, as if on its own, aiming right for Damien’s throat.

I wasn’t the only one to move. Emilio stepped forward with the bent katana as well. Between our two weapons, Damien came to an abrupt stop. The three of us froze, stopped in place like we were playing some weird kid’s game with blades. Red light! Mind the sharp edges now, children.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Damien said. “Always thinking you know better than everyone.”

“It’s part of my charm.” That was crap. Did I actually act that way? I had no idea, thinking about it right now wasn’t going to make me a better person. It would get us killed. “Now quit dodging my question and tell us what the hell is going on.”

Damien rolled his eyes. “Check your phones.”

I briefly glanced up at Emilio, only to find him glancing at me. He shrugged.

“Check your phone,” I said, meaning I’d keep an eye on Damien.

Emilio was better with phones and computer stuff. I’m a nerd, don’t get me wrong, and I’m good at math. But technology? Pretty much everyone in our group left me in the dust there. Hell, Emilio had a YouTube channel where he showed sped up versions of his painting sessions and ran an online store for his digital artwork. Me? I barely touched social media. Face-Tok? Insta-Twit? I swear, my spirit animal’s a decrepit old man.

More importantly, I didn’t want Emilio to have to be a part of killing Damien. I had no doubt the drug dealer had a knife on him. This made me his target. Plus, even if I was willing to let my friend either get stabbed or try to chop into Damien, I wasn’t sure that sword of his was up to actually delivering a killing blow anymore. This way, though?

My mouth went a little dry at the thought. I didn’t want to kill Damien. Okay, sure, he pissed me the hell off and had clearly put us in danger. I wouldn’t mind beating on him if it would do us any good. That didn’t mean I wanted to become a murderer.

I very carefully tried not to think about the dead goblins behind us scattered across the stone floor. Naturally I failed, and immediately became aware of their stench. A lot of the time, bodies release their waste upon death. The goblins were no exception and in addition to the metallic smell of their blood and the sour musk of their body odor, now the reek of their urine and feces joined the mix.

They were dead and stinking and I’d done that to them. Bad deaths too. Slow and painful. They’d tried to kill me. It had been self-defense. Hadn’t it? I’d really thrown myself into them when that first one had come at us. I could still feel the phantom sensation of my knife driving into his eyes and throat. Pop-pop-pop. It had been so fast and, most frighteningly, natural.

Damien’s contemptuous smirk made me realize my hand holding the bloody knife was trembling.

“Corridors of Chaos?” Emilio asked, pulling me from the moment. Thank God.

I didn’t glance at him. I almost did, but I caught myself. I wasn’t about to let Damien go so much as an instant unsupervised. Having him here was like tripping over a log and landing right next to a rattlesnake. No, a cotton mouth. They stank worse, they’re just as mean, and they didn’t give you the courtesy of a warning before they bit.

“That’s it,” Damien said, and he did look up at Emilio. “Automatically showed up on your phone when we came into the Corridor.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“I don’t have a signal,” Emilio said. “There’s no network, no internet…how did this app install itself?”

An app? Had I heard him right? We were standing in a medieval style stone hallway lit with torches and surrounded by dead goblins and an app had showed up on his phone? Sure, why the hell not. It was freaking incongruous, but was that really the weirdest thing that was going on?

Actually, yes. Yes, it was.

“What the hell?” I asked. Maybe I should make that my catch phrase?

“We have entered ‘The Corridor of Endless Hunger,” Emilio said, clearly reading off his phone. “We have slain ‘Emaciated Goblins.’ What kind of joke is this?”

“It’s not a joke,” Damien said. “It’s a real-life dungeon crawl. You’re welcome.”

If I’d thought I could get away with punching him, I would have gone for it. “We’re welcome?”

“You spend all your time rolling dice and pretending—this place is the real deal!” Damien gesticulated to the dead goblins behind me.

“And you thought shoving us headlong inside without weapons or gear was a good idea?” I demanded.

“Oh hey, Griffin,” Damien said, taking on an insipid tone. “I found a real-life dungeon full of monsters and treasure and stuff. We should totally go inside together and clear it out for the loot and experience. Yeah, you would have come running right away to check it out.”

Something cold clutched hold of my stomach. “So, you used Seth to lure me here? You don’t actually know a thing about where he is.”

That stupid smirk was back. “I didn’t say that.”

What was that supposed to mean? Or did he mean that… “Is my brother here?”

Damien didn’t say a word. He just continued to smirk.

“Griffin,” Emilio said. “You’re going to want to take a look at your phone. We’ve got character sheets.”

“He’s right,” Damien said. “That’s important if you want to make it down here.”

I really, really, really didn’t want to leave Damien unguarded and I didn’t want to have to put Emilio in a position to have to hurt him or get hurt in turn.

Damien rocked back and slowly stood up.

“Hey!” I called out. “I didn’t say you could move.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m getting the first aid kit and taking care of my hand.”

“Emilio, grab the pack!”

To his credit, Emilio did it quickly. Then he gave me an incredulous look, like ‘what the hell?’ I couldn’t really blame him for that.

“Take the weapons out, then pass him the first aid kit,” I said. “I’ll check my phone then.”

“Don’t trust me?” Damien said.

I stood up. “Hell no.”

He rolled his eyes and Emilio fished out the baseball bat, a first aid kit, some chalk, a lighter, a flashlight, and a butterfly knife. The knife was a shiny black and the two pieces that made up the handle were emblazoned with laughing, red chrome skulls. More decorative than functional, it looked mean as hell. It was a step removed from something a mall ninja would buy.

“You’re robbing me now?” Damien asked with an exaggerated bob of his head. “Right, right, help yourselves, you little thieves.”

I took the knife when Emilio handed it to me and he kept hold of the bat. He gave the katana a sad look, then tossed it aside to clatter on the ground.

“Hey!” Damien cried out.

“It’s already ruined,” I told him.

That actually seemed to put Damien out a bit and he fell quiet as Emilio started to hand him over the first aid kit.

“Wait,” I said. “Is there any peroxide in there?”

There turned out to be a small bottle. I took it and some gauze and used it to clean off my folding knife. The blood was starting to congeal and would have started to mess it up if I’d left it there. I wished Damien had thought to bring a sharpener with him. The edge of my blade had been dulled. It could still cut, but was now a mostly stabbing weapon now. Unfortunately, with the clipped point tip making it curve slightly up, it wasn’t really ideal for that. My knife was a tool, not a weapon. Unlike that silly butterfly knife Damien had packed. Seriously, what the hell was the point of something like that? Good for cutting your fingers while doing dumb tricks, stabbing people, and not much else.

With my knife clean, I folded it closed and clipped it to its usual place in my front right pocket, stowing the butterfly knife in my rear pocket and then took out my phone to see what the fuss was about this app.

I thought that I’d have to sift through my phone to find it. I didn’t. The entire screen was dominated by a huge, flowing notification. I tapped it, and it brought me to a page with a few different options. It was a simple menu, with a stack of links with different titles like Experience and History. The one that caught my eye, however, was my name at the very top.

I tapped on it and was rewarded with the promised character sheet.

Griffin Spader

Class: None

Background One: Huntsman

Background Two: Chef

Primary Attributes

* Prowess +2 (+1, +1 Chef)

* Mobility +2 (+2)

* Combat +3 (+2, +1 Huntsman)

Secondary Attributes

* Strength +0

* Fortitude +2 (1, +1 Chef)

* Speed +2 (1, +1 Huntsman)

* Reflexes +2 (1, +1 Chef)

* Melee +0

* Ranged +2 (1, +1 Huntsman)

Tertiary Attributes

* Knives +2 (+1 Huntsman, +1 Chef)

Attainments: None

Abilities: None

The Tertiary Attributes list was actually a lot longer. That section seemed to be a broad catch all of skills, all of them getting a +1 from either Huntsman or Chef. ‘Knives,’ however was notable because it received a bonus from both of those listed backgrounds. Why were there two backgrounds instead of one? Was that +2 bonus to Knives why I’d been able to fight with my pocket knife like I had?

That was absurd. A few numbers on a screen did not suddenly make someone a good fighter or make them know how to use a weapon. That was ridiculous. Except…we were standing in a stone dungeon having just killed a bunch of goblins and there was no visible means of entrance. It was like death-trap-Narnia. At least those kids had the wardrobe they could go back through. Us? We had a solid dead end of stone.

A notification popped up, telling me I had a Background Ability to select.

There were two available.

Hunter’s Mercy and Chef’s Palate.

Each offered a small dropdown menu for examination so I didn’t have to pick blindly.

Hunter’s Mercy: deal double damage to enemies brought below 1/4th health.

Chef’s Palate: discern how a dish was prepared and detect poison with a taste.

I could only pick one. I wanted the both! As an aspiring chef, how could I pass up that kind of ability? That was amazing! Hunter’s Mercy on the other hand…it was less appealing. For one thing, how the hell could I tell when an enemy was at less than a quarter health? There weren’t any HP bars.

I shook my head, postponing my decision as I tucked my phone away. The Corridors of Chaos app and its character sheet mockup of me, however wildly inaccurate—Strength +0? Come on! I’m small, but that was just offensive!—were interesting. Even so, it would be better to explore them somewhere safe. Like back home after we got out of here.

I’d played enough D&D to know that there was no way these goblins were the only thing lurking around in these creepy hallways.

“Cool, how do we get out?” I asked Damien, who had finished wrapping up his hand with some bandages.

“It’s a dungeon crawl, Griffin,” he said. “The only way to get out is to beat the dungeon.”