Two large black dogs emerged from the deeper darkness, hackles raised, teeth bared. Hellhounds. And I was clutching an empty shotgun.

In an instant I knelt at the corpse beside me, trying to pull another shotgun shell free from the ammunition belt.

The dogs broke into a lope. I could see one was injured, favoring a hind leg. Likely sustained in a previous fight. My fingers, slick with blood, failed to grasp the shell at first. I quickly wiped my fingers on my pants and pulled one free, at the same time opening the action.

The first dog snarled and lunged forward, the other one hanging back a bit.

I popped out the spent shell and reloaded, snapping the gun back together. I swung the barrel up just as the dog pounced. I pulled the trigger.

The blast hit the hellhound’s torso at close range and in mid-air, changing the trajectory of its forward motion. With an unearthly whine, the hellhound slammed against the wall, a gaping wound in its ribcage. Dead!

But the other dog charged me and there was no time. Almost on instinct, I reached into my mind’s eye, drawing up my skill slots. I focused on the Clurichaun skill and rolled backwards away from the approaching threat.

Shooom.

[Clurichaun skill activated. 30 seconds remaining]

[Energy: 0 remaining]

The hellhound lunged at the illusory projection of myself, kneeling with shotgun in hand. It snapped its jaws at the empty air, slobbering with bestial rage. That was close. I was about six feet away and realized I yet again had an empty shotgun. And no shells within reach.

The hellhound snarled and turned to face me, losing interest in the illusion. Frag. It probably could smell me.

I dropped the shotgun and drew my revolver, standing up and using both hands to aim. The dog ran for me and I backed away, taking shot after shot, aiming for its head.

I got off four rounds. One bullet pierced its skull. Another its neck. Another missed, ricocheting off the floor. The fourth buried itself in its chest. The hellhound slumped forward, skidding until it lay before my boots. Was it dead? I stepped out of biting range just in case.

I buried my face in the crook of my elbow as the scent of sulfur was nearly overwhelming. As if brimstone oozed from the creatures’ wounds. Then I realized I had smeared bits of gore from my bare arm onto my face from the Volunteer I had euthanized. Disgusting.

[Clurichaun skill elapsed. 30 seconds until recharge]

But then a welcome sight. The bodies of the hounds began to glow. The subtle vibration steadily grew in concert with the motes of dancing light drawing up from their still forms. I dematerialized my revolver and stood between the bodies, spreading my arms wide to absorb the rewards from each monster at the same time.

Through the tips of my fingers, I felt the power absorb into my body as the glowing motes extinguished from the now still corridor.

[Common Data Card Fragments obtained - Hellhound - 5/10]

[10 Crystals obtained]

Not bad. But now that I had a taste, I wanted more. Too bad I didn’t have another Tincture of Fortune handy. Nor did I have any means to forge in the field, if such a thing was possible.

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Then I heard more distant gunfire and shouts. Somebody running. It sounded like it was from the adjacent warehouse, connected by this corridor sunken into the concrete floor.

I checked my revolver.

[1 / 5 ammunition remaining]

Hmmm. I picked up the shotgun and removed the spent shell, then walked back to the corpse and detached the ammo belt. I counted five remaining shells.

▶ If you aren’t respawing yet, I guess these are staying with me.

I dematerialized the revolver, buckled the ammo belt around my waist, and reloaded the shotgun. Five shells, one bullet. I wouldn’t try to add the new equipment to my inventory, just carry them on my person. That way I didn’t have to worry about storage.

Time to press on. Feeling a bit more confident, and still with the full complement of my Essence, I went faster through the corridor. It was darker ahead, the flickering spits of flame further behind me. I squinted. Was that a red light ahead, from around a corner? Something like a beam of red light, maybe from a laser pointer, was dancing around. Then I heard a scream and the sound of clanging metal.

I hurried forward and turned the corner. It seemed the corridor zigged and zagged before connecting to the next building. A little light from the other warehouse penetrated the way and I saw the silhouette of a Volunteer swinging at a larger, darker silhouette. Another hellhound? Or worse?

▶ Hey! Do you need help?

The Volunteer grunted. It sounded like a woman. My eyes adjusting, I saw she was swinging some sort of sword. It was a tight space, and she did not have much room to maneuver. The large canine was pressing in against her, growling menacingly.

“Kill this fragger!”

I raised the shotgun and stepped up, trying to get a clean shot. I did not want to accidentally hit the Volunteer, moving and struggling in the poor light. My accuracy wasn’t the greatest, and this wasn’t exactly a precision weapon.

Then the beast vomited fire, scorching the Volunteer’s leg. I knew then it was a Baskerville Hound.

The woman screamed in pain but fought on. The brightness of the flame now illuminated the scene. The Volunteer was a very muscular woman, almost like a bodybuilder. I didn’t recognize her. She had some sort of metallic contraption wrapping around one side of her head and covering her right eye. It was from this device that the red laser emanated. Maybe an implant.

She held a long, curved blade, like a katana, and she kept shifting positions, using it alternately to block the creature’s advance and to strike. And strike she did, but it was hard to tell what the effect was against the beast’s dark fur. Smoke curled from the creature’s nostrils and it snapped its jaws at her.

Looking down the barrel, I got within several feet and aimed at the hound’s dark haunches. I pulled the trigger, and the shotgun recoiled hard against my shoulder.

The dog yelped in pain and fury, stumbling forward on damaged legs. I backed away and started reloading. Meanwhile, the woman stabbed her blade into its side, drawing blood. The beast suddenly jerked its bulk to the left, wrenching the sword from her grasp. Blade protruding from its side, the Baskerville leapt up and clawed at her face with the nails of its forepaw.

The woman fell backwards. The metallic contraption on her face was ripped away, dangling by wires and a broken hinge intertwined with her flesh. An empty black cavern of an eye socket was revealed beneath.

“GAH! Hit it again!”

I stepped forward and released another blast into its side. It howled madly, flame dripping from its jowls as it turned to face me. I backed away and began reloading once more. The hound was badly injured. It was having trouble standing under its own power. But it could still burn me.

Then, from behind the Volunteer, two hellhounds ran into the corridor. Hunting as a pack, they each bit down on one of the woman’s legs, dragging her backwards while the Baskerville looked on menacingly.

“No! NO! There’s too many!”

▶ I’m reloading!

The woman attempted to dig her fingernails into the hard ground as the dogs tried to drag her away, ripping at her pants and legs.

I raised the shotgun again. Three targets and a Volunteer in the middle. I aimed back and forth between them, not knowing where to shoot and not wanting collateral damage. But then I saw the woman materialize something strange. It was rectangular and lumpy. She held it in one hand and some kind of electronic device in the other.

“Frag this! Get back! If you make it, tell the Round Table I ittied bravely!”

Squinting, I realized what she was about to do. This crazy Volunteer was clutching a block of C-4 plastic explosive. And in her other hand was the detonator. Suddenly feeling very claustrophobic in this tight space, I turned and ran as fast as I could back the other way, trying to escape the blast radius.