It took me and Croc most of an hour to loot the corpses, sort through the various Shards and Relics, and harvest the salvageable body parts. That last bit was the worst by far and made me feel like a ghoul. Still, as incredibly distasteful as my new ability was, it was too powerful to ignore. I could summon two Taxidermied Horrors for every Relic level and even at level 1 it was already paying massive dividends.
Synthia 2.0 and Drumbo Rebooted were punching above their weight class.
So, even though it made me sick to my stomach, I wrapped a piece of cloth across my nose and mouth to help with the stink and did what needed doing. Just imagine what kind of monstrosities I could build with all these crab pieces. I even had a few ideas rattling around in my head that had nothing at all to do with combat.
The loot was also great.
All of the younger crabs had at least one or two Shards—some of the chonkier ones even carried Uncommon shards—and most also carried a Common-grade Relic. They were basic-bitch tier stuff. Quick-Stitch Kit looked like a gas-station first aid kit and offered a very slight bump to overall Health Regen while Survival Can Opener was a Stamina-based Relic that minutely boosted physical attacks while using a bladed weapon. Nothing I could personally use, but better than most of the shitty Relics on the third floor.
I’d be able to sell or trade them for a pretty profit, especially if I could get a trade alliance with Howlers Hold nailed down.
Keke the Kiosk Crab had two Uncommon Relics stashed away in its core.
The first, Chitin Armor, was a physical Relic that significantly boosted Toughness. Unfortunately, equipping it also caused the user to grow an exoskeleton that drastically slowed movement speed and would become permanent overtime. That was a hard pass for me. I for one preferred skin over hardened plate armor, even if skin was less combat effective.
The second, Prismatic Essential Oil Diffuser, looked exactly like its namesake and was the source of the strange breath weapon the crab had used during the battle. It dealt decent damage but was also wildly unpredictable, just like every Boss Babe who swore by the power of Essential Oils.
Prismatic Essential Oil Diffuser
Uncommon Relic – Level 1
Range: Line of Sight
Cost: 10 Mana
Duration: Lingering Effects up to 2 Minute
Cooldown: 2 Minutes
Ever walk past a mall kiosk and get a whiff of Essential Oils so intense it feels like your nose is being physically assaulted? Yeah, this is the weaponized version of that. But watch out, because this chaotic cloud of fragrant bullshit is a double-edged sword that can cut both ways and you’ll never be sure what you’ll end up with.
Randomly unleash one of the following effects upon casting:
Lavender Barrage: All enemies in the Area of Effect are partially blinded and afflicted with painful respiratory discomfort for two minutes.
Peppermint Palsy: All enemies in the Area of Effect receive 15 points of Cold Damage and are slowed by 20% for one minute.
Eucalyptus Bliss: All allies in the Area of Effect are engulfed in a swirling cloud of eucalyptus vapor, causing extreme lethargy while simultaneously restoring 25 points of Health and Mana for 49 seconds.
Chamomile Bedlam: All allies in the Area of Effect become disoriented and randomly switch allegiances for 10 seconds, attacking friend and foe alike.
Tea Tree Burn: All creatures in the Area of Effect receive 20 points of Fire Damage and afflicted with an additional point of Burn Damage per five seconds for one minute thirteen seconds.
Bergamot Frenzy: All creatures in the Area of Effect are enveloped in a noxious hallucinogenic mist that causes terrifying illusions for two minutes.
This Relic enables Mana usage.
Using the Relic was insane since it was just as likely to hurt as the help, but there was no denying it was powerful. Maybe I could Forge it with something else to make it a little less unpredictable and liable to blow up in my face.
The last Relic was a Rare which appeared to be an upgraded version of the Quick-Stitch Kit the other crabs had. It was called Molt and Mend which, much to my horror, allowed the user to “molt” injured body parts and regrow new, healthy appendages over the course of several weeks. I was definitely going to hang onto that one just because it was one of those things I’d rather have and not need, than need and not have. Still, it was extremely disturbing.
The real prize, however, wasn’t the Shards, Relics, or even Experience.
It was the kiosk itself.
The hut was in bad shape from the battle, but I knew it would self-repair over time, and the cosmetic damage didn’t seem to affect its functionality in any way. When I tacked the ugly Kiosk Franchise Opportunity placard onto the shop way, there was a flash of cerulean light followed by a prompt.
Congratulations, you’ve just filed an application claim for an eligible kiosk terminal currently connected to the Franchisor Network! If your application is approved, you will be able to freely use the kiosk interface terminal to buy, sell, and store compatible items, including but not limited to Artifacts, Relics, and other qualifying Progenerated Material. Note, all transactions conducted through a Franchise Kiosk are subject to an 85% Franchisor Fee to be paid in full at the time of transaction to the Steamboat Studios corporate office on the 99th Floor.
Proceed? Yes / No
The deal was terrible, but I accepted out of sheer curiosity more than anything else. That and my gut intuition, which was still telling me that the Research was actively trying to help me in some way. He’d awarded me Franchise Opportunity Placard for a reason.
I was sure of it.
I was also curious to learn more about the Franchisor, and whatever the hell Steamboat Studios was.
Croc had mentioned the Franchisor ages ago, but I hadn’t paid much mind at the time. There were so many strange and fascinating things inhabiting the Backrooms that if something wasn’t actively trying to murder me, it just ended up as a footnote inside my brain, filed away for later. But the Franchisor was no longer some nebulous being. Some myth or legend like so many of the other entities I’d heard whispered about like ghosts around a campfire.
It was real. And it lived down on the 99th floor.
Information was power inside the Backrooms, and that little tidbit felt significant even if there wasn’t anything I could do with it right now.
After a few minutes, another prompt came through, notifying me that my Franchisee application claim had been approved by Steamboat Studios. Why was I not surprised?
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I immediately accessed the kiosk terminal and started poking around at the various options. After only a few minutes, I realized that it was even better than I could’ve hoped for. Other than that whole 85% transaction fee for using the damned thing, of course.
In many ways, the kiosk terminal was remarkably similar to the Progenitor Monoliths that dotted each Floor.
Welcome to the Variant Kiosk Network, owned and operated by the Steamboat Studios Corporation of the 99th Floor! As the current kiosk Franchisee, you have several options not visible to kiosk customers. To explore those features, please select from one of the available options below!
1. Secure Superspace Mass Storage Facility
2. Deposit/Remove Franchise Inventory
3. Set Inventory Pricing
4. Manage Kiosk Affiliates
5. Auction House System Administration
Basically, the thing was a giant interdimensional storage vault and unlike my personal Subspace Storage System, there didn’t seem to be any weight restrictions, though there were a few prohibited items. Namely, living creatures. The biggest catch was that I couldn’t access the kiosk Storage System from anywhere at any time like I could with my personal Subspace Storage System. Instead, I needed to use the physical terminal to deposit or remove items.
Interestingly, other Delvers could use the terminal to view any items I had listed and make purchases. On top of the flat “buy it now” feature, I could also implement a bidding system, which would allowed Delvers to bid against each other, potentially driving up the price of certain coveted Relics or Artifacts. Then, after concluding the transaction, the item in question would be instantly whisked away from Kiosk Superspace Storage and deposited into the buyer’s Personal Subspace Storage System.
It really was like magic.
The best feature, by far, was the one tacked on at the very bottom—almost as though it were an afterthought. Auction House System Administration. That was the real game changer. It allowed Delvers other than me to list items through the kiosk, like some sort of giant interdimensional eBay, which could then be bid on by other kiosk users through the interface terminal. And, just like eBay, I got a percentage cut on every transaction.
I could even directly adjust the percentage amount through the Affiliates Tab—though I had no intention of gouging sellers with a ridiculously high transaction fee, the way the Franchisor was gouging me. That 85% cut made the Kiosk almost worthless, since I was doing all of the work, taking all of the risk, and reaping so little reward. But so far as I was concerned, that was just another little speedbump to navigate.
It might take me a while, but I’d figure out a solution eventually.
In the meantime, I wanted to see how the system worked, so I went ahead and deposited some run-of-the-mill survival gear, a few extra Common-grade Artifacts I had tucked away in Storage, and a handful of the Quick-Stitch Kit and Survival Can Opener Relics I’d looted off the junior Hermit Crabs. I had to triple the price of what I would’ve normally sold the items for inside my shop, and I was still barely turning a profit.
That was just the price of convenience, I guess. Though if I could find a way to reduce the Franchisor’s exorbitant fee, the kiosk had the potential to be a gold mine.
I took a few extra minutes to spray paint the kiosk stall—Discount Dan’s Pop-Up Shop!—and leave a few of the twinning rings behind, then Croc and I left the stall where it was and headed home. I was tired, sore, and surprisingly hungry, despite the fact that I was still covered in blue crab blood and smelled like rotten sea scallops.
***
The store buzzed with activity.
Delvers shopping, others eating enchanted pizza or hotdogs, one even making an extremely bold choice to haggle with one of my Cannon Fodder Golems, Princess Ponypuff, devourer of worlds, and self-proclaimed servant of Vor’ghel, the Devouring Maw who Dwells Beneath. I still wasn’t entirely certain who or what that was. Hell, I wasn’t even certain Vor’ghel was a real entity at all.
The negotiations were not going great.
Ponypuff was currently screeching like a wounded goat while the customer flinched and folded in on themselves like a dying star. That’s how pretty much every negotiation with Princess Ponypuff went. Now there was someone not to be trifled with.
“Hey good, you’re back,” Taylor said, hustling over from the concession stand I’d acquired from the Jungle Gym Jamboree.
She was one of my two new human employees—a twenty-something year old college student from Oklahoma State University who’d Noclipped in after a drunken sorority rager. Against all odds, she and her friend, Stephanie, had survived long enough to stumble into the shop, and now the pair worked split shifts at the concession stand in exchange for room and board, along with all the food they could eat and a small in-store spending stipend.
She slowed as she got closer, covering her mouth and nose with one hand as she eye-balled my outfit with open disgust. I could feel judgment radiating off her in waves.
“Oh my god, what happened to you?” she asked, voice muffled by her palm.
“Ah, she cares about you, Dan!” Croc said, tail happily waggling from side to side.
“Only because I’m pretty sure this”—she gestured at my whole person—“is how you end up with airborne super dysentery, and I for one have no desire to die while on the Oregon Trail. Now can you please tell me why you smell like that?”
“Like what?” I asked, playing dumb.
“Like the inside of a sushi dumpster.” She squinted, studying me closer. “It looks like a giant squid exploded all over you.”
“Giant hermit crab, actually,” I replied, “but good guess. Now what do you need? I could really use some alone time with a bathtub full of hand sanitizer and enough bleach to drown a moose.”
“Best you’re going to get is baby wipes and Febreze,” she replied taking a few steps back from me, “and I doubt that’ll do the trick. But maybe try to do something to freshen up because we’ve got a visitor. Temperance and Jakob are here with some guy from Howlers Hold. His name is Wraith. Or Wrath, maybe. I can’t remember, but it’s something super edge-lord like that.”
That got my attention.
“How long have they been waiting?” I asked.
“Hour or so?” she replied, shrugging one shoulder. “Not too long. The three of them are in the breakroom.”
“Perfect,” I said, rubbing my palms together.
This was great news. I’d been genuinely starting to worry that something bad had happened to my friends. Maybe the Aspirants had gotten to them. Or maybe the Hold wasn’t as friendly a place as they’d remembered. I’d even entertained the possibility that the two of them had simply abandoned me to my fate, like rats bailing off a sinking ship. I still wasn’t entirely sure what Jakob’s motives were for helping me, but I didn’t think he would up and leave like that.
Temperance was another matter.
I considered her a friend of sorts, but she was also crazy, wild, unpredictable. Now that I’d helped her get back in the good graces of the Howlers, there was every chance she would leave me twiddling my thumbs like a jackass.
I’d also been worried that the Holwers wouldn’t meet me on my own turf. It was a huge risk and one I hadn’t been willing to take. At the moment, I was actively being hunted by some of the most powerful beings in the Backrooms, so just strolling willy-nilly into a settlement filled with potentially hostile Delvers was one step short of suicidal. Coming here was equally dangerous for them, though. It was a bold move and showed that the Howlers were both open to a partnership, and that they were dealing in good faith.
“Send back a couple of pizzas and case of beer. Good whiskey, too. And some of those cigars Princess Ponypuff likes to smoke.”
“Anything else?” Taylor asked, arching an eyebrow. “Maybe I could raid the Blighted Carpet Emporium over in Quadrant 13 and find some red carpet we could roll out for this guy.”
“Har, har,” I shot back. “Joke all you want but this is a big deal. If we can lock down an alliance with the Howlers, it could change everything. More customers. More loot.” I cracked a lopsided grin. “I might even be able to give you a raise.”
“Gee, I don’t know how you could possibly top a camp cot I have to share with another person and all the pizza I could eat.”
I snorted. Say what you will, but Taylor had spunk. I liked that. “Just do it, okay? Beer, pizza, whiskey, cigars.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, “but only if you promise to do something about the smell. It’s seriously gross.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” I offered her a small salute, then marched into the personal hygiene aisle. I grabbed a packet of baby wipes—every Marine’s best friend while out in the field—a can of Old Spice body spray, a stick of deodorant, a bottle of hand sanitizer, and a jug of mouth wash. Supplies in hand, I beelined for the employee’s only private bathroom.
I spent fifteen minutes fruitlessly trying to clean myself up. That blue blood stained worse than ink, and even scrubbing at my hands with dish shop and hand sanitizer didn’t get it entirely off my skin. I picked off all the visible chunks, baby wiped the rest of my body, and splashed a liberal amount of water over my face and hair. It was a losing battle. I needed to acquire a shower, damn it. That and a decent washer and dryer.
My clothes were beyond salvageable.
I regarded myself in the bathroom mirror and grimaced at what was staring back at me.
My brown hair had grown shaggy. Not long, but not the usual mid-fade that would’ve pass Marine Corps muster. Instead of stubble, I had a short beard, peppered in a few spots with gray hair. My face looked much leaner, almost gaunt. Between my heightened Athleticism score and walking for ten or more hours a day, I’d lost almost thirty pounds all while packing on lean muscle. I felt better than I had in years, but if I looked like a bag of dried dog shit. Especially in my red and gold bathrobe, Daisy Duke jorts, and stained wife beater undershirt, which was tastefully accented by my tool belt.
Anyone meeting me for the first time would assume I was an insane murder hobo, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.
I finished cleaning up the best I could, slapped on a new layer of deodorant, then chugged some mouthwash in a desperate bid to get the taste of rotten fish off my tongue. Like my clothes, it was a losing battle.
As ready as I was ever gonna be, I left the bathroom behind and headed for the Employee’s Lounge, ready to cut a deal with the leader of Howlers Hold.