The Brownies were every bit the miracle workers that Ajax had made them out to be. They were zealots of the highest order, their religion was laundry, and there were none more devout. By the time I made it back to the Spin Cycle, my bathrobe had been washed, dried, pressed, and neatly hung with care. Unfortunately, it was still an ass-ugly knock-off Versace, which made me weep for humanity, but now it was only hurt my eyes and not my nose.
The robe was… spotless. Immaculately clean.
There was no sign of any damage whatsoever, and the high priests of laundry had even blessed the garment, adding two temporary buffs, which both lasted for twenty-four hours. The first was a non-stackable passive called Fabric Fortification, which increased armor rating and item durability by ten percent for the duration of the spell. That wouldn’t do much for me personally, since my gear offered virtually no physical protection and naturally repaired itself over time, but it would be worth its weight in gold to Delvers like Jakob and Temperance, who fought up close and personal.
The second buff was even better.
GrungeGard Extreme repelled liquids, prevented stains and, most importantly, diminished the effects of elemental spells by five percent. Now, five percent may not have sounded like a whole lot, but unlike Fabric Fortification this effect stacked up to twenty-five percent total resistance. Five percent for each item blessed. Honestly, I was sad I couldn’t just cheat the system and gain total immunity to elemental attacks by waddling around in three pairs of pants, twenty t-shirts, and a couple of winter jackets.
Still, twenty-five percent was pretty damned good.
Originally, I’d been planning to offer laundry services free of charge as a public safety initiative, but now that I knew about the buffs, there was no reason I couldn’t charge a modest and totally reasonable fee. Under Croc’s diligent supervision, I even had Baby Hands create a punch card reward system. Do nine loads at regular price and get the tenth load free.
As for the Brownies themselves, they seemed completely content with our new arrangement. They worked happily, I paid them in pizza, beer, and gummy worms taken from the candy aisle. Turned out, they really liked gummy worms. To an almost unnatural and unhealthy degree. But so long as the laundry got done, I didn’t care about what they chose to shove in their tiny little face holes.
Things were finally coming together, and I was feeling significantly more optimistic about the future than I had in a long while. I was almost ready to venture back over to the Hold and make good on my bargain with Ajax, but before I did, I wanted to make a few upgrades around the store. Square everything away before I officially opened the doors to a few hundred new shoppers.
My storage space was damn-near overflowing with body parts, and I wanted to unload them into my newly acquired freezer unit. I also needed to make some repairs to both Synthia 2.0 and Drumbo, plus it was probably time to level up my Unhinged Taxidermy Relic and add a few new minions to my combat roster. Especially considering how much raw material I had to work.
And, speaking of minions, with the addition of the hotel room, freezer, and laundromat, I had officially claimed over 15,000 square feet of floor space. Which meant I could add another Cannon Fodder Golem to help run the store. Help I would absolutely need with all the new customers we were about to get.
Then there was the security office to consider, with its cameras and monitors. Typically, those types of security measures would be used in the store itself, but I wasn’t really worried shoplifting. Not with Babyhands and Princess Ponypuff on perpetual duty. And woe to the unlucky son of a bitch who got caught stealing by Princess Ponypuff. She’d probably go all Flayed Monarch and wear their face as a mask to deter future thieves.
With those changes in mind, I pulled up my Blanket Fort Interface and got to work.
The Interface served much the same function as the Progenitor Monolith—but for store instead of for me. With it, I could view a staggeringly long list of available resource materials, plus it granted me access to a set of 3D interactive schematics, which allowed me to manipulate and even reconfigure the space as I deemed fit.
The doorway to my personal hotel room was currently located in the overflow storage area, which we’d turned into temporary lodging for visiting Delvers. Although it made sense to have it there, I decided it would work better, long-term, to have some additional space between myself and the customers. With a few quick shifts, I uprooted the entire room and attached it to the employee breakroom instead, which would now serve as the operations hub for the store’s staff.
Working on that same principle, I relocated the new Security Office from the front of the store to the breakroom as well.
I retrieved the ancient computer and bulky printer I’d looted from the Maintenance Corridors on five, then took a few extra minutes to set both up in the security office. Surprise, surprise, the computer was a piece of shit, but it also had a copy of Microsoft Office 95 installed and—for reasons I couldn’t even begin to explain—a copy of DOOM. I didn’t have much time these days for video games, but it was hard to say no to OG DOOM.
It took me longer than I’d like to admit to hook up the printer, but eventually I got things connected and even printed out a handful of marketing flyers that I could post around. I’d still need ample access to spray paint, but the flyers would save me countless hours of writing.
Next, I turned my attention to the ten DEWALT Etheric Walkie Talkies sitting on top of the safe beside the desk. Although there was a distinct possibility they were cursed, I still planned one using them. There was virtually no reliable communication network within the Backrooms—not that I’d seen, anyway—so the ability to talk with my friends, even when we were on different floors, was worth the risk of potential insanity.
I slipped one into my toolbelt, then gave one to Croc and another to Jakob. I idly considered handing over one more to Ponypuff, because it would be nice for someone in the store to have access, but eventually decided against it. I was pretty sure she would either A. use it to try and raise her Dark Lord, Vor'ghel the Devouring Maw that Dwells Beneath or B. constantly screech inarticulate goat noises at me.
Neither was a great option.
In theory, I could give one to Babyhands, but there was no way the golem had the necessary IQ to work something as complicated as a walkie talkie. I once saw the poor bastard mopping a patch of carpet. Croc loved that moron and Baby Hands was one helluva hard worker, but with the mental prowess of a deflated basketball, he would never do much more than stock shelves or clean up spills.
Giving one to either Taylor or Stephanie was also a potential option, but that was an even bigger gamble than handing it over to Ponypuff—albeit for very different reasons. For the most part, I trusted the two girls not to screw me over, but I didn’t want to hand them a weapon that could potentially be used to betray me.
Walkie talkies like these weren’t encrypted devices. They relied on radio frequencies to communicate, which meant anyone with one of the walkies would be able to eavesdrop on other conversations. Since we’d be relying sensitive info over those walkies—like our location and movements—and I couldn’t afford one of the devices ending up in the hands of an Aspirant.
What I really needed was someone manning the store who was as unflinching loyal as Baby Hands and as smart as Ponypuff, but not completely batshit insane. Although it would be a challenge, I felt like I finally knew enough to create a Cannon Fodder Golem who could fit the bill. I’d learned a shit ton since cobbling Ponypuff and Baby Hands together and I was confident with the right resources, I could get the job done.
The question I needed to answer now, was what role would this new golem fill? I learned that here in the Backrooms, intention mattered. If this was going to work, I needed a clear plan in mind.
I briefly considered crafting another golem to help Ponypuff at the checkout counter but dismissed the idea after mulling it over for a bit. Truth was, Ponypuff was great at her job, but she did not play particularly well with others. Adding another golem into the mix was just asking for trouble. Besides, if she really needed extra help manning the front desk, I could always ask Taylor and Stephanie to pick up the slack.
Ponypuff seemed to tolerate the two of them, more or less.
No, what I really needed was someone completely trustworthy to run security while I was away from the store. Someone who could monitor the CCTV screens, call in any emergencies, and keep the peace between Delvers when tempers invariably got hot. Right now, Babyhands was doing the bulk of the heavy lifting in that department, but I needed a minion who could deescalate tensions and who could make critical decisions in my absence.
What I needed was a Security Chief.
Although Cannon Fodder Golems could literally be crafted from almost anything, the material used in their creation played a key role in shaping the minion’s personality. When building Ponypuff and Baby Hands, I’d used the random left-over garbage that had been lying around the store. Stuff I didn’t want to keep and saw no other use for. The results spoke for themselves and this time around I planned on making better choices.
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And, even more important than the physical material, was the Relic that powered the creature.
I’d used Gremlin’s Groin Guardian for Babyhands—a passive, Common-grade Relic that looked like a dirty jockstrap and granted additional protection to the user’s junk. As a result, Baby Hands had the intellect of dirty jockstrap. For Ponypuff I’d used a Mind-based Relic called Tinfoil Hat of Mind Shielding, which increased Grit and offered a resistance against hypnotic psionics. It was decent enough Relic but also something I could easily see an insane conspiracy theorist using.
Metaphorically, Princess Ponypuff was the spitting image of a conspiracy theorist wearing a tinfoil hat. Smart, sure, but zero interpersonal skills.
For this new golem, I wanted a better-quality Relic which also resonated with the idea of security. Then, I further wanted to reinforce that notion by using physical materials that thematically fit with the outcome I had in mind.
To that end, I ventured into the store and raided the survival aisle first, grabbing a wide assortment of items including a camouflage poncho, a green tactical jacket, and a backpack loaded with more survival supplies: A compass and a machete, a spool of nylon 550 cord, a small entrenching shovel and a fire starter. A pair of heavy work boots went into the mix, followed by a simple first aid kit, jumper cables, and a couple of reflective roadside warning triangles.
Someone had traded in a clear riot shield, a matching police helmet—though neither were Artifacts—and a common-grade Artifact Taser, which dealt 15 points of shock damage on contact, but had a two-minute cooldown timer between uses. It dealt too little damage for me to use, but it would be perfect for some in-store muscle.
All of it went into a large pile in the security office.
I took a gamble and decided to add one of the security cameras as well, hoping it would still function even after I brought the minion to life.
I paid Princess Ponypuff a visit and riffled through the available Relics we had on hand, but nothing really jumped out at me. The majority were Common-grade, though we had a decent mix of active spells, physical abilities, and even a few passive and utility skills. There were a few Uncommons as well and even a single Rare, but none of them screamed ‘Security’ to me. Thankfully, I didn’t need to rely on the Relics we had, because I could forge something to fit the bill.
Working off a hunch, I took a Basic Camo Kit, then grabbed Sucker Punch which was another plentiful Common-grade Relic from the third floor. Basic Camo allowed its user to “moderately” blend in with their environment, while Sucker Punch dealt additional physical and emotional damage when striking an opponent first—though I still wasn’t entirely certain what in the hell emotional damage even was.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t intend to leave the Relics the way they were.
When forged, Basic Camo Kit and Sucker Punch created a vastly superior Relic called Mall Ninja’s Strike, which allowed the user to blend with the shadows and deal additional damage on any preemptive strike while concealed. It was a solid skill, which had saved my ass more than a few times. Hell, it was even one of the base Relics I’d used to forge Neural Slip Stream. Even though Mall Ninja’s Strike was only an Uncommon-grade, it was perfect for what I had in mind.
I tossed what appeared to be a cheap mall katana onto the pile of survival equipment, then focused on the items with intention, which conjured a floating prompt.
Would you like to transform the selected material into a Cannon Fodder Golem? Doing so will destroy the Uncommon Relic, Mall Ninja’s Strike. Proceed? Yes/No?
I mentally selected “Yes.” The floor immediately began to rumble while the lights flickered frantically for a few seconds.
Unlike most of my spells, this one drew power not from me, but from the store itself. Although the Cannon Fodder Golems seemed rather simple in nature, I was beginning to realize just how far from the truth that was. Sure, in a lot of ways, my Taxidermied Horrors were more physically powerful, but none of them could think or talk or reason. Even though the golems were limited in some regards, I was starting to suspect they were actually closer to Dwellers than summoned minions.
Was this the same process the Backrooms used to spawn the myriad of creatures who inhabited its many levels? I couldn’t be sure, but there was a certain logic to it.
When the shaking finally ceased and the overhead fluorescents stabilized, the assorted pile of survival gear was gone and in its place was a hunched creature crafted from assorting camping gear, held together by patches of inky black shadow, and swathed in camo. It looked far more human than either Ponypuff or Babyhands, though the similarities were superficial at best.
A pair of deep purple eyes regarded me somberly from behind the clear plastic face shield of the riot helmet. It didn’t have any visible mouth or even face, but those eyes burned with intelligence. “What is my purpose?” the creature asked slowly. Its voice was gruff by soft. Contemplative, even.
I thought about it for a long beat before answering.
“To protect,” I finally replied. “To protect me. To protect my store. To protect my friends and my customers. I created you to be my chief security officer—to keep an eye on things and make sure everything stays safe in my absence.” I regarded the golem closely, searching for any sign of hesitation. “You up for the job?”
The creature grunted in reply then broke eye contact and spun in a slow circle, taking in the security room and the bank of monitors. As it moved, I noticed that one of the CCTV screens was lit up, the fed displaying whatever the golem was looking at. I couldn’t help but grin.
Finally, the creature finished surveying the office and its purple gaze returned to me.
“Affirmative, I can do what you ask. This”—the creature swept a hand toward the security office—“is an adequate start. Scaling your security protocols will be a challenge, though. You only have enough cameras to cover nineteen entryways and that doesn’t leave any for an internal surveillance system.” It fell quiet for a moment, face shield quizzically cocked to one side. “Still, you already have some decent countermeasures in place, and the Temporal Restriction Field on the doorway anchors are an effective sorting mechanism.”
I squinted, studying the newly formed golem with curiosity.
I’d hoped using a higher-grade relic would increase the minion’s capabilities, but this thing seemed far more competent than either Baby Hands or Princess Ponypuff—not that I would ever say that to Ponypuff’s face. I had no desire to be murdered and sacrificed to the dark god she claimed to serve.
“You seem different than the others,” I offered without preamble. “Smarter. Why?”
The creature tapped at its chest with an inky finger. “This helps. The more powerful the Relic, the more powerful we become.”
“Just like Delvers?” I asked.
It shrugged then shook its head. “Such knowledge is beyond me.” It faltered. “I suspect there are similarities, though. Regardless, I sense the purpose behind my creation. I can feel your intention radiating inside my being. Such intention gives me clarity of thought. Clarity of action.”
I mulled over the creature’s words.
Croc had told me long ago that the earliest Dwellers were not birthed, but rather thought into existence by the God Box on the bottom level of the Backrooms. As a Mythic-grade Relic, Corvo’s Blanket Fort was insanely powerful, and I was starting to realize it was more than it seemed at first glance. Unlike all of the other Relic’s I’d run across so far, Blanket Fort wasn’t powered by Mana. No, it was powered by the Backrooms and allowed me to manipulate and create much in the same way the Backrooms did.
Like the creatures it created, I had the growing suspicion that the Relic and its strange abilities were in some way connected to the Progenitor Cube on floor 1,000. Almost as though the Relic was a tiny shard of the Cube itself. I had no proof of that, but it was the only thing that made any sense.
“You got a name?” I asked, pushing away thoughts of the God Box buried deep below.
The creature shook its head. Not too surprising.
I didn’t have to think about it for long, before offering up a suggestion.
Back during my first deployment to Iraq, our convoy security commander had been a hard charging Sergeant who everyone called Camo Joe. Camo, because the guy was so motto that everyone joked that be bled camouflage, and Joe because and chain-smoked enough cigarettes to put even Joe Camel to shame. Turkish Golds were his poison of choice, and I’d never seen Camo Joe without a half-burning cigarette hanging from his lips.
Hell, I’d watched him run the three-mile PFT, puffing like a chimney the whole time. Funny part was, even smoking, he outran everyone else in the company and it wasn’t even close.
For reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on, this shambling pile of survival gear reminded me of that hard-nosed Sergeant.
“Camo Joe,” I said, slapping the newly forged golem on the shoulder. “That’s what we’ll call you.
“Camo Joe,” the golem said as though testing the name out. “That is adequate.”
I had no doubt I’d created the right guy for the job, but clearly his sense of humor was on the same level as Baby Hand’s overall intellect. That was fine, though. It took all kinds to run a place like this and having a no-nonsense security chief would serve me well. Now it was time to see just how sharp this thing really was. Sure, it could follow directions, but could it think on its own in the same way Croc could?
“With the resources we have on hand,” I asked, “what changes would you make?”
Camo Joe considered the question for a second, its purple eyes growing fuzzy and distant. “It will take time,” Joe finally replied, “but after accessing the current fortifications, there are several modifications we can implement to further harden the facility and upgrade its security capabilities. First, I recommend we build a series of emergency response protocols. Situational scenario SOPs.
“Following that, we can install additional environmental traps and restricted access points throughout the store. Should someone or something manage to infiltrate and successfully launch an assault, that will mitigate the damage they can do.” It gestured at the break room and the connecting security office. “Turning this into an actual fortified command center will help reduce the risk as well. We can also implement a watch schedule, patrol routines, and create holding cells for any hostile forces we apprehend.”
The golem’s answers were methodical and well-reasoned.
Honestly, it was unnerving.
Hell, this creature hadn’t even existed ten minutes ago, and now it was standing here, breaking down my entire security system, all while offering a variety of insightful fixes. Maybe I’d made this thing too smart.
I pushed away my unease.
Although I had reservations about my newest minion, I’d also felt the same way about Ponypuff and she’d done an admirable job as store clerk. For the most part. I mean, sure, she liked to watch people while they slept. And yes, she screamed like a banshee at anyone who tried to haggle with her. Also, I was pretty sure she’d set up a malevolent shrine inside one of the employee lockers in the storage room.
Other than all of those things, though, she’d done a bang-up job.
Hopefully, Camo Joe would do the same.
“Sounds like you know what needs doing,” I said. I pulled out one of the walkies and pushed it into Camo Joe’s hands. “Use that to get in touch. Let me know if you need any help and if you can’t find me, look for Croc, Jakob, or Taylor. Worst case scenario, go to Princess Ponypuff.”
“Yes, sir,” the walking pile of survival gear said before offering me a precise salute then executing a sharp about face. I watched its back shimmer as it headed through the breakroom and out into the store. A second later, shadow wrapped itself around the golem and it disappeared completely.
A shiver raced along my spine. This is fine, I told myself, which was probably true. I’m sure that thing isn’t going to go all Skynet, eventually staging a mutiny, then trying to assassinate me. That was just paranoia talking.
And if things did go sideways…
Well, I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. Then I’d set it on fire with a Molotov cocktail and dump industrial-grade super bleach on top for good measure.