“You better not be talking about my prime assets, dirty old man,” Jenny said to Slick.
His hand reached out to tap the sling holding Jenny’s shotgun. “We need to get those attendants away from the counting room’s door. Your ammunition can do that.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of using my ammunition for anything but shooting bad guys,” Jenny said.
“I’m not sure those shells will shoot anymore,” Slick said. “Ammunition was already getting punky before we came left camp. By now, they’re just glorified noisemakers.”
Jenny frowned, but Bo saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes. She knew Slick was right, and so did the pitmaster. The invading reality had turned the casino into a giant cave, and transformed the slot machines into weird altars that drained the life out of the gamblers. It wouldn't surprise Bo at all to find that his bullets and Jenny's shells wouldn’t work as expected.
Look at you, thinking like a real champion now. I would wager you are right to mistrust your ammunition, given how intense the reality shift has been in this area. It won't be long before those tools of destruction your people are so proud of are useless.
“What's your idea, Slick?” Bo asked, ignoring Barbie’s insults.
The older man nodded toward the braziers that provided the dungeon's only light, aside from the flickering altars. “Nobody's paying any attention to us right now. I say we split the shells up and toss one or two into those fires. When the ammunition cooks off, I’ll bet those tuxedo-shirt boys take off to investigate like a shot. That’ll give us an opening to get into that counting room. It’ll be like a game of three-card Monte. We’ll give them something to look at in our left hand while pulling the scam with our right.”
“What if we need a key to open the door?” Bo asked.
“That'll complicate things,” Slick admitted. “But you’re a big boy, Bo. I bet you could force the door open if you had a few minutes alone with it.”
“Let's just watch their routine, see what happens,” Jenny said. “Maybe we can find a way in that doesn’t involve pyrotechnics.”
The party agreed to that and settled in to watch the door. The gamblers at the nearby altars ignored the trio, which didn't surprise Bo. The flashing symbols had hypnotized the poor fools.
“Here we go,” Slick said after the party had spent ten minutes waiting for something to happen. “Let’s see what these boys do.”
A shadow wearing a tuxedo shirt pushed a sturdy wooden cart loaded down with boxes toward the counting room door. Another shadow walked ahead of the cart, its glowing blue eyes sweeping back and forth for any threats.
The counting room’s guards stepped aside when the cart reached their position, and a heavy stone door slid to the left to admit the approaching spirits. Once the cart and its attendant passed through the doorway, one guard turned toward the open door to watch whatever was going on inside the room. The second guard returned to his original position, facing out into the casino.
A few minutes later, one attendant pushed the empty cart out of the counting room and down the casino’s floor.
Bo started counting the second the attendant pushed the empty cart out of the counting room. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, wasn't the most accurate way to keep track of time, but it would give him an estimate of how often a cart came to the counting room. Slick and Jenny tried to talk to him while he counted, but Bo raised a finger to quiet them.
Fifteen minutes later, give or take, another box-laden cart appeared with a pair of attendants. The routine went the same as before: One guard watched the counting room through the open door, the other surveyed the crowd. Ten minutes later, one attendant pushed the empty cart back onto the casino floor and vanished into the smoky haze.
“If they stick to their routine every time, we’ve got about twenty-five minutes between carts,” Bo said. “That gives us plenty of time after the next round to put Slick's plan into action.”
“Don't call it my plan,” the older man said. “It was just my idea. You're the man with the plan.”
“Come on, Slick,” Jenny said. “Be proud of your plan. You’re a hero if it works.”
“And a villain if it blows up in our faces,” he said with a chuckle.
“We won’t be around to blame you if it blows up in our faces,” Bo said with a grin.
“That’s real comforting,” Jenny replied, throwing a fake punch into Bo’s shoulder. “It’ll work, chicken legs.”
“I do not have chicken legs,” Bo grumbled.
“You don’t really notice them so much once you see the bungee belt you’re using to hold your boots up,” Slick replied.
Once Slick and Jenny got bored of heckling Bo, the trio decided they’d put their plan into motion when the next cart approached the counting room. Jenny and Slick would drop their shells into braziers a hundred yards north, and Bo would do the same to the south. They'd each put two shotgun shells into three different braziers, then hustle back to the counting room.
What they’d do after that, though, was anybody's guess.
“Time to move,” Bo said when the next cart appeared.
“Good luck,” Jenny said, and the three bumped fists before taking off in different directions, shotgun shells in hand.
After thirty paces, Bo carefully tossed a pair of the crusty brass and plastic tubes into a brazier mounted on the wall. He kept moving and did the same thing ten paces further along. His idea was that the guards would come investigate the first set of explosions, then have to move even further away when the second went off. It might buy his group a few more seconds, which could make all the difference.
With the charges in place, Bo turned on his heel and hustled back to the counting room.
This is not a bad plan for humans. The casualties will be low, but perhaps you’ll have the opportunity to kill some of the casino's guardians once you enter the vault. And there is always the boss monster to fight. The potential for mayhem is quite high.
“I don't suppose you have any tips for hunting boss monsters?” Bo asked.
I was a front-line warrior, not a dungeon delver.
“Oh, that’s right,” Bo said. “You were probably too busy cleaning devil latrines with your servant deck. Were you more of a scullery maid or a butler?”
You are a horrible human being.
“We all are,” Bo said with a grin. “You’ll see.”
The cart was just entering the counting room by the time Bo returned. He crossed his fingers and offered a quiet prayer to the barbecue gods that the fire would cook those shells off. If the ammunition was too far gone, they’d have to come up with a new plan.
And Bo was fairly certain that plan would involve charging into the vault with his cleaver swinging.
“Why the glum face?” Jenny asked as she rejoined Bo. “Slick's right behind me. Now we just have to wait for—”
Bo's relief at seeing Jenny was replaced with a spike of adrenaline as loud bangs echoed through the casino. Showers of sparks and pillars of smoke shot into the air from the north and south, and Bo held his breath to see how the attendants outside the counting room responded. If they stood their ground, this was all for nothing.
“There they go,” Slick said as he ambled toward his friends. “Just like we planned.”
The guards split, one going north and the other south. Bo clapped his friends on the shoulders and headed toward it. He didn't want to run and attract attention, but he walked as quickly as his long legs would allow.
Jenny took the lead before Bo could stop her, and easily slipped through the narrow gap between the door in the dungeon's wall. “Hey boys,” she called out as Bo hurried to join her in the counting room.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
The two attendants had turned toward the door, heavy boxes in their hands, blue eyes blazing.
Bo didn’t wait to see how they’d respond to his party’s intrusion. He equipped Carnivore's Cleaver and picked the cards to activate out of his opening hand. Hackstorm was an obvious choicev as was Carnivore’s Cleaver which had been rolled back into his deck after he equipped it. Hungry Hungry Devil was utterly useless, though. That was all right with Bo. His surprise attack would injure both the attendants, and next turn he’d have more useful cards in hand.
Hackstorm unleashed a pair of slashes at the shadows the instant Bo entered close combat range. The weapon ripped through the attendant’s clothes with ease, opening deep slashes.
It also passed through their wispy bodies without leaving a mark.
SHADOWS CANNOT BE INJURED BY SLASHING OR PIERCING ATTACKS
The same message flashed across his vision when the Carnivore’s Cleaver card unleashed its attack.
Well, shit. That was a serious problem. Bo’s only weapon was only good at slashing and stabbing.
“I can't hurt them,” Bo said.
“Well, they sure as hell can hurt us,” Slick shouted, clutching the side of his face where an attendant had just slapped him hard enough to leave a vivid dark bruise behind.
“That’s not good,” Jenny said, ducking below the sweeping, smoky hand of an attendant. “Now what?”
Bo quickly examined the counting room. It was a square, stone chamber about fifteen feet on a side. The main entrance was in the west wall, and there were two smaller doors centered on the north and south walls. Both were closed, with no obvious handles or other ways to open them. A series of square cubby holes were built into the wall beside the south door, while a tall metal case on wheels stood beside the north door. The case had no shelves, but held a series of inch-wide vertical channels.
“Watch your head!” Slick shouted, and Bo ducked to avoid a slash from a shadowy talon. The attendants were slow, but their hazy bodies emitted a strange chill that made the pitmaster eager to avoid their touch. “Better come up with a plan fast, Bo. This one's gone straight to hell.”
The pitmaster willed the useless Carnivore’s Cleaver away and grabbed a heavy case off the cart. They all had iron handles on their narrower side, and he’d seen the shadows holding them. If the attendants could touch the boxes, then surely the boxes could touch them right back.
Another hand of cards appeared in Bo's mind, this one containing Severance and Danger Spice. Bo activated the first two cards and prayed Severance would work with a weapon other than Carnivore’s Cleaver. His first card worked like a charm, sending a spray of spicy powder into an attendant’s eyes. The blue glow turned red, and the creature swatted at its face in a desperate attempt to make the hurting stop.
Severance, however, was a dismal failure.
CARD ACTIVATION FAILED. TARGET IS IMMUNE TO SLASHING ATTACKS.
“Fine, I’ll do it the hard way,” Bo said, and swung the heavy case at the dazed attendant’s head.
The attendant saw the attack coming, red eyes going wide with fear, but it was too disoriented to mount a defense. Bo’s makeshift weapon smashed through the creature’s hazy head.
Bo felt a serious impact with this attack. The stone case obliterated the attendant's head, and the creature's tuxedo shirt floated gently to the floor.
“It's got Slick!” Jenny shouted, stabbing a finger to Bo's left.
The remaining attendant had Slick trapped against the wall. Its smoky fingers had trapped the older man’s wrists, and the creature jerked Slick's arms up over his head. Bo watched as the creature's head unfolded like a flower, and the shadowy flaps stretched toward Slick’s head.
“Get off him,” Bo snapped and hefted his case for another blow.
He couldn’t risk swinging at the shadow’s head while it was so close to Slick. Instead, he slammed the case into the creature’s body. That knocked the creature to the ground but didn’t help Slick. The attendant’s grip was like a vise, and the shadow dragged Slick to the floor when it fell. Lightning fast, the monster scrambled on top of Slick and thrust its jaws at his face.
Bo reacted out of blind instinct. He flailed at the creature’s head with the box in his hand, but missed the mark by a good foot. Fortunately for Slick, the pitmaster’s forearm did slam into the shadow’s face.
Unfortunately for Bo, his arm took the bite meant for the older man.
Icy bolts of pain shot up Bo's arm and slammed into his chest. The pain faded almost instantly, though, and was replaced by a strange euphoria. He felt drunk and giddy and suddenly found it hard to care that he’d just been bitten by a shadow monster from another world. He just wanted to lie back and enjoy this wild new buzz.
“Lights out, bitch,” Jenny shouted.
Bo looked up, his eyes moving so sluggishly he only caught the tail end of his friend's attack. She brought a stone down on the attendant’s head as hard as she could. Wisps of shadow burst out of the shadow’s tuxedo shirt, and the monster was gone.
“Thanks,” Bo said, the last consonant stretching out into a slurred hiss. He staggered to his feet, then stumbled into the wall. A quick glance at his arm told Bo the wound was serious, but he didn’t feel any pain. He was far too drunk, or stoned, or whatever to care about that. His status was only wounded, not hindered, so he’d be fine. Just fine. A flurry of messages flashed at him from the upper corner of his vision, but Bo didn’t have time for them. He had work to do, even if he was drunk as a teenager after his first bottle of Mad Dog 20/20.
“I'm okay,” Bo said, then giggled. “Better than okay.”
Jenny helped Slick off the floor and raised an eyebrow at Bo. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” Bo said, then giggled again. “You should let one of those shadows bite you. It’s great.”
“This door’s locked tight,” Slick said. “How about the other one, Jenny?”
She walked over and gave the south door a shove. “Can't get in this way.
“One of you should take my deck,” Bo said. The drunken haze had settled deep into his brain, and he felt his balance slipping far to the right.
“Fat chance, kid,” Slick said, wincing as he probed the bruised side of his face. “I'm sidekick material.”
“We'll all be dead material if we don't get these doors open,” Jenny said.
“It can't be that hard to get in,” Bo said, struggling to put two thoughts together. He found he could think, if he concentrated hard enough, but the heavy buzz had settled deep into his body. “What happens in here?”
“They count all the coins they collect from those weird slot machines,” Jenny said. “Then they take the coins to the vault, right?”
“Yeah. Yeah!” Bo said, excitedly. He suddenly understood the purpose of the strange wheeled rack near the north door. “You're a genius.”
He grabbed a case from the cart and fumbled around until he found the catch that opened its lid. The box was filled with crypt coins, their surfaces covered in an opalescent, greasy sheen. Bo stumbled over to the wheeled rack and began dropping coins into it from the top of an inch-wide column.
“Nice!” Jenny said. “You always do your best thinking when you’re drunk?”
“Sure,” Bo said. “I was drunk when I decided we should—”
“Come help us fill the rack,” Jenny said, interrupting Bo. “We need to get gone before the guards come back.”
The trio kept glancing over their shoulders as they dumped coins into the rack. Bo had lost all track of time. Had it been two minutes since they’d entered the counting room? Two hours?
He honestly didn’t know.
It doesn’t matter. Keep filling the rack. It’s not like we have another choice. And if the guards come back, you know how to kill them. If you don’t fall over your own feet. That shadow poison is really quite potent.
“That's the last of them,” Jenny said.
“Then let’s goooo,” Bo said, then giggled. He grabbed the wheeled rack and moved it toward the door. He hoped there was a magical sensor that would detect the full rack and open the door.
That did not happen.
Bo’s eyes roamed over the room, looking for some clue as to what they were missing. Only one guard had left the counting room after each rotation, even though two had gone in. There had to be some way to open these doors.
The only things left in the room were the two uniform shirts on the floor and the cart with its empty boxes.
Of course.
Bo slapped his forehead and pointed to the empty cubby holes on the south wall. The cart that left the counting room was always empty.
“Let's get these boxes into those cubbyholes,” Bo said.
“You're right,” Jenny said. “I can't believe I missed that.”
“We can’t all be as smart as me,” Bo said. “Or as pretty.”
“I think she's got you beat there,” Slick said as he shoved a pair of boxes into the holes in the wall.
“I don't know,” Jenny said. “He's got those super sexy legs going for him now.”
“Enough with the legs,” Bo said.
“I can't help it,” Jenny said, shoveling more boxes into their places on the wall. “They're just so slim and fetching.”
“You’re lucky I’m too tipsy and busy to throw you over my knee,” Bo said.
“Promises, promises,” Jenny replied. “If you put me on your knee, I’ll be close enough to touch those legs.”
“That's the last of them,” Slick said. “Try the door before the guards get back.”
Bo held his breath, crossed his fingers and toes, and pushed the rack toward the door. Nothing happened for a moment, then a faint, melodious chime sounded, and the stone barrier slid aside. Bo hesitated for a second, as he realized the empty cart would be a dead giveaway that something was amiss.
“Push that cart in here,” Bo said, and carefully slid the rack to one side.
“Better grab these, too,” Jenny said, scooping the tuxedo shirts off the floor. She tossed them onto the cart, then eased it past Bo and the rack of coins. Slick followed her, and Bo brought up the rear. No sooner had he passed through the doorway, when the stone slid down behind them.
The trio found themselves in a long, narrow hallway. Strange bards of red light embedded in the floors provided the only light, and illuminated the many, many passages intersecting this one.
The walls, floors, and ceiling were all smooth stone covered in strange carvings. Bo tried to make sense of the engraved ornamentation, but in his current state, he couldn’t make sense of the intricate collection of sigils wrapped in geometric figures. It reminded him of those incomprehensible Ikea instructional diagrams that made him give up on the idea of building anything more complex than a box.
It’s dungeon magic. Those are the inscriptions that give the dungeon its power to convert souls into energy that can be used by the core and its guardian.
“Which way to the vault?” Jenny asked.
“I have no idea,” Bo admitted. “I thought it’d be, you know, on the other side of that door we just went through. Never thought there’d be a maze back here.”
“What is that noise?” Slick asked, brows furrowed with concentration.
“I don’t hear anything,” Bo replied, and tilted his head from side to side like he was trying to clear water from his ears. “I think my ears are drunk.”
Jenny cursed under her breath. “I hear it. It’s wheels. Someone’s pushing a cart our way.”