Chapter 38: Forming A Party

The team is set. It's me and Jose. The army is sending Ranger Corporal Odysseus Grant. The navy is giving us Private First Class Henry Gallup, who's a SEAL. Agent Madeline Diaz is some FBI hotshot. Lastly we have Gwen L'Ronge, the ex-Bungo math wiz.

The six of us will be Dragoons. That's what they're calling the Dracosys dungeon delvers in the English speaking world, anyways. In Asia they're called “Hunters” but apparently that's copyrighted or something in the west.

Over the next two days I talk to each, make sure they know what they're getting into.

I talk to Henry Gallup first. He's just over at the Fort Worth Naval Air Station, about an hour from me. We meet at a Waffle House for breakfast. He's tall, muscular, dark skinned and handsome. Also, he's the first person I've met that talks like a news anchor.

“So, Henry, what made you volunteer for this assignment?” I ask after we order.

His voice booms over the restaurant and literally everyone can hear his deep voice. “Corporal Han, that's a great question. I think that everyone should serve their country the best way they can, and right now it's plunging into the new frontier of the dungeons.” He smiles and his teeth are pearly white and perfectly straight.

“Uh, alright.” I say. “You're planning on going into politics after this, aren't you?”

“Well, I can't say that I've ruled out a run for the 12th congressional district in Texas. I can say that this country needs strong leaders and nothing builds strong leaders like the American military.”

I keep myself from groaning. This guy is a lot. I close my eyes, look at my Dracosys menu and check some classes. “Hey did you know there's a political class series?”

“Is there?” He's suddenly very interested.

“Yeah, you go Advisor, Politician, Representative, Senator.” I write down the series on a napkin for him, then continue. “Obviously if the system gives you the option to take a later class you do it. I had a friend take Advisor. He wasn't combat trained so we ended up not using him much but he got stuff that aids the group as a whole.”

“That sounds exactly like something I'd be interested in,” Henry says, bringing his hands together in a thoughtful manner. “I'm always looking to be a team player, even when I am forced to lead a team.”

“Uh-huh.” I cannot believe this guy was chosen for my team. Actually, maybe he was kicked out of another team and this was his punishment. Our food comes and we demolish it for a few minutes.

“Weapons of choice?” I ask.

“M4 Super 90 tactical shotgun and smoke grenades,” Henry says after finishing his smothered and chopped hash browns.

“Smoke grenades? Interesting, haven't seen them used much in the field.”

“When you need to change the flow of a fight they're indispensable. So long as you know how to use them right.”

I think on that for a minute as I finish my waffle. “You're experienced with them, then?”

He sips his coffee then answers, “yes, in both the offensive and defensive uses.”

“Well, they're not something I think about much so let me know if you have a plan for them.”

“Will do. And if I can just say what an honor and privilege it is to be serving alongside someone who received the-”

I cut him off, “I don't like to talk about the medals. I didn't like why I got them.”

Private First Class Henry Gallup nods. It's the nod of someone who's seen combat and knows all the horror and violence that accompanies it. I think that I can trust this guy.

Next I meet with Gwen L'Ronge. She says she's busy working out some math and I should meet her at her hotel. It's in Dallas so I drive my blue Subaru WRX over to the Hilton.

I knock on the door to room 1307. Nothing happens. I wait another minute, then knock again. Still nothing. “Hey, Gwen, it's Jun Kyung Han,” I call through the door.

I get a call on my phone. It's Gwen's number. She nervously says, “zere is someone knocking on my door, are you on your way?” Her voice carries a French-Canadian soft lilt to it.

“That would be me knocking on your door.”

“Prove it,” she says.

I knock on the door and shout for her to open up.

“Ze man outside my door sounds like you,” she says, still suspicious.

I sigh and switch my phone to a video call. “Hi, Gwen, this is me. Jun Kyung Han. This is your room number. Now I am knocking on the door.”

The door across the hall opens just a crack. I turn and see Gwen's face inside room 1310. She told me the wrong room number just as a precaution? Always wonderful to meet yet another paranoid mathematician.

After some negotiation, she lets me into what I immediately identify as one of those rooms that's been converted into a giant conspiracy board. There are piles of papers strewn about, the wall has red yarn thumbtacked to pictures of politicians and magnates, and there are crumpled up coffee cups everywhere.

“Soooo,” I say, not quite sure where to start. “You been in town long?”

She's tall, thin and has graying hair. Probably in her early 40s, I'd guess. “Immediately after ze initiation of ze Dracosys I ran an analysis on who would be ze most likely to be chosen as a lead agent for a counter-Dracosys team. I flew into town immediately after confirming you and Jose Amarillo escaped dungeon USA-TX-11.”

She sits down on the floor in between three laptops and alternates typing on each one. “You really expect me to believe that you anticipated both that I'd be chosen, I'd say yes, and you'd be picked to be on my team?”

“No, actually I suspected zat Jose Amarillo would be chosen as team leader. You just happen to live in the same area.”

“Oh,” I mutter. Well, that's a kick in the ol’ pride, but I struggle on. “So do you have combat experience?”

Her speech is rapid fire and leaves no room for interruption. “I was an Olympic hopeful in ze winter biathlon, so I know how to move and shoot. I also have several marksmanship awards. I keep in good physical condition using aerobic exercises, though I am not capable of feats of strength. My best attributes are Intelligence, Agility, Constitution, Memory, Reflexes and possibly Luck, though zat is debatable.”

I've got a brother who's on the Aspergers spectrum so all of a sudden her behavior seems really familiar to me. “Okay, great. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes, do you have any unallocated level ups right now?”

“Actually, yes, I have two.”

She hasn't looked at me in at least a minute. If she's like my brother she probably won't ever make eye contact with me, so I don't take it personally. “Good. Please allocate them into first step classes that you have not selected yet.”

“No. Those suck balls.”

“I suspect that you may actually gain levels by doing so. Based on ze information gathered from other Dragoons, ze leveling system is based on your overall average level. My math says ze level of each class is multiplied by ze step of that class, then ze average of those numbers is your overall estimated level. Thus gaining multiple 1st Step classes at level 1 decreases your overall average level and, possibly may push your experience to grant you additional levels.”

“Eh, I'm going to trust you on this only because you worked at Bungie.” I close my eyes and open my menu. I select Fighter and Rogue and take the 1st level of each. Sure enough, after spending those two levels, I gain one more. “Holy crap I gained a level,” I say, then open my eyes. She's still not looking at me. I shrug. “Well Gwen, I'm happy to have you as part of the team.”

“Yes, yes,” she says, still engrossed in three laptops. “Please leave now.”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

She seems... Unique, and I'm unsure about her combat capabilities, but I'll take someone who can crack open the secrets of leveling. At least I know that I can trust her math.

My next stop is at the much shitter hotel across the highway. I text FBI agent Madeline Diaz that I've arrived and she texts me back to meet her in the gym next door. I enter and see her pumping iron.

Agent Diaz is in her early 30s, has very short cut black hair, light brown skin and muscles just about everywhere. She's also about as tall as I am.

“Agent Diaz, I presume?” I address the woman.

“Yup,” she says between reps of weightlifting.

“I'm Jun Kyung Han.”

“Yup.” She continues to lift... Holy crap is she dead lifting 300 pounds? Sheesh.

I maneuver around the massive weights as she switches to bench presses. “So I wanted to meet with you and get a feel for your style and approach to situations.”

She talks as she racks another 50 pounds onto her bar. “I carry a ballistic shield, Sig Sauer P226 and a fire axe.” Her voice is thick with Kentucky twang.

“Fire axe?” I ask.

She pumps out 10 reps of 350 pounds before answering. “Axe used by firefighters. Great fer clearing obstacles.”

“Alright I'm just gonna put you down as a frontline fighter then, okay?

“Yup,” she says, and carries on with her exercises.

“I'll just text you later and give you some classes I'd recommend you try and take.”

“Yup,” she says, switching to a leg machine. I leave her to it.

Grant won't get in until tomorrow so I go over the gear we're taking in. We don't have an official space yet so for now I'm just storing equipment in the garage.

Jose and I still have some health recovery snacks, but not a ton. I request a couple of med kits. We all get helmets fixed with wide spectrum scopes, just in case we need to see the heat signatures of invisible lizards again. Each person seems to have their own preference for body armor, but I ensure that it's all in order and ready to be donned.

Jose requests a MK11 Mod 0 sniper rifle, just like the one he used to carry. Grant and I will both take the MK 16 SCAR L with standard length barrel. Henry Gallup is bringing in an M4 Super 90 tactical shotgun. Special agent Diaz is carrying in a ballistic shield and Sig Sauer P226 handgun. I go ahead and make everyone carry one of the Sig Sauers as backup, so ammo can be shared. Lastly Gwen L'Ronge (who I discover is French Canadian) is going to be equipped with a heavily modified Anschütz model 1827F Fortner, the small caliber rifle used in the biathlon.

There are some other odds and ends I order but the last thing I request is collapsable duffle bags. If we get back up to the break room I want to carry out as many health recovery snacks as possible. Not just for the team, but also for science, and probably some sick kids? I dunno exactly how we're going to use them, but we can definitely use them.

The next day it's time to finally talk to Odysseus Grant. I'm not looking forward to it, honestly. I drive my WRX to the Love Field airport to pick him up. I can tell which one he is because he's the only giant, bald, white guy in army fatigues in the pick up line.

It's the first time I've seen him in years. The scarring on his face hasn't gotten better. He loads his bags in the back seat then gets in the passenger side. He's almost 6’ 4” so the car noticeably tilts down on the right when he sits.

“Hey Odysseus,” I say in as neutral a tone as possible. I honestly don't know what to expect from him.

He flips out his phone, types a bit and then a simulated voice comes out. “Hi, Jun. I hope you don't mind if I use this to communicate.”

“N-no, not at all,” I say as I pull away. I had wondered how he was faring after the explosion at R-32 basically ripped half his face off. Seems like he's adjusted, at least in some ways.

“I'm looking forward to this mistake,” the voice says. “Mission, I meant mission not mistake. Sorry. Autocorrect is a problem with this thing.”

It's funny but even through this cell phone AI voice synth app, this might be the longest he's ever talked to me. When we were in the Coyotes he seemed to resent me. “No worries, man. Soooo... How've you been?”

He taps and the voice says, “damn. You were always so awkward. That hasn't changed, I see. I've been getting along. I am studying to be an EMT. That's part of why I requested to be on your team when I heard about it. You'll need a medic.”

I slap the steering wheel with annoyance. “What the crap, was I the last person informed that I was running a team?”

“Knowing Davis, probably,” Odysseus taps out. “She probably just wanted to give you some time off before going back at it. She always liked you.”

“Pfft. Davis, like me? I was barely a body with a gun to her.”

“No, she definitely favored you. I think that's why she went into R-32 with you instead of out with us.” The cyber voice said something very surprising but with no more intonation than anything else. “She used to stare at your ass a lot.”

I was so surprised I almost drove off the road. “What the snap! Why didn't anyone tell me!”

“We all knew it was never going to happen. Against regulations. Also we all knew you liked big boobs.”

I have to restrain my outrage and indignation. “How did- no, you know what, I don't want to know.”

He lets out a raspy, barking laugh. Turns out losing most of your tongue alters your laugh, too. Then he slaps me on the shoulder. I think we're going to be fine. I can definitely trust this guy.

With all our preparations complete and the Get! raid happening tomorrow, Jose and I decide it's time to throw a barbecue. We call in both the new team and the old team (Theo, Nat and Brian). We do not invite Bilbo.

The sky is clear and blue. The afternoon is cool (for May in Texas, 80 degrees is cool) and both the smoker and the grill are cooking. There's a Spotify playlist featuring hits from the 90s. Pretty much everyone has a beer or glass of wine. It's like the end of a Fast and the Furious movie but with less Corona and more Shiner Bock.

Mercy is just wearing an anime t-shirt and jeans but that's more than enough to turn heads. Turns out she usually wears a sports bra to keep her girls from jiggling and make them look smaller. Tonight she's got a black bra under the anime shirt and it is putting in some work.

We're all in t-shirts and jeans, actually. That's the Texas state uniform. Except for Nat and Amy. They seem to have both gotten a completely different invitation. Nat looks like a punk rocker with a red plaid skirt and black leggings. Amy is wearing her little black dress she uses for office parties. I am wearing the “Giant Robot” shirt I took from the Get! dungeon 4th floor. What? I just really like this shirt.

Theo shows up with a gorgeous date who looks like she's a foot taller than he is. Nat shows up alone but seems to be flirting with both Odysseus Grant and Henry Gallup, who are both tall, good looking and well muscled. So that's her type: hot guys. Brian shows up with a friend. They're... Holding hands?

“Hey Brian,” I call out and go greet him.

“Oh, hey Jun, great party,” he says. “I don't think you've met before. This is my boyfriend Reggie.”

The mildly overweight black guy in a bowling shirt extends his hand. “I've heard great things about you, Jun. Though it's fiance now, not boyfriend.”

“Ahhhhh what?” I ask, confused.

“Yeah,” says Brian, “we've been together for eight years but it took almost dying for me to pop the question.”

“No, that's not what I'm confused about.” I say this as I look between the two men. “You're not gay,” I say to Brian.

Reggie chortles, “oh, he's gay, I can promise you that.”

“But I thought you were in love with Natalie.”

“Oh, she's my niece,” says Reggie, waving the very idea away with his hand. “Brian is just a dear and looks out for her. You know he got her that job in the back so she wouldn't be hit on so much.”

I am floored. Our entire planet got turned into a video game and THIS is the most surprised I've been all week.

“This guy has low wisdom,” I hear Brian whisper to his FIANCE. They laugh and go to talk to other guests. Dammit Jose, I can't believe he told people about my wisdom.

We all have a good time. Drinks are drunk, meat is grilled, hot dogs are stacked with condiments. Even Colonel Davis shows up, this time without the government lackeys.

Things are winding down around 10pm when Davis gets a call. She looks worried. “I need a TV!” she calls out.

I bring her into the garage. I flip on the TV and lights and sound erupt into the room. The news is on. I didn't leave it on a news channel. That means this is on every channel. Oh. Shit. The headline down at the bottom of the screen reads “MONSTERS ESCAPING DUNGEONS.”

The male newscaster looks very serious. “We have Janet Varley at the scene, Janet, can you hear us?”

They cut to a reporter outside of the Pentagon. The 5 sided US military headquarters had been, as far as anyone knew, the first place to transform. It had become a towering concrete pillar, supposedly 100 floors tall. A lot of people were lost, missing or dead inside.

The rattle of M16 assault rifles blares out as Janet ducks behind her station's news van. “Hank, the situation here at the pentagon has changed drastically in the last 5 minutes. Monsters are now appearing outside of the Pentagon and are attacking anyone they see. The military police force that was on watch here is doing their best to subdue these beasts.”

The cameraman braves the danger and the shot shifts to around the van. We can see some sort of large, red, white and blue spiders. They're the size of pickup trucks and there are 6 of them. Another materializes, so now there's seven of them. I recognize the fade in as the counterpart to the fade out of a dead monster when it turns into loot. The local law enforcement and military popo are opening up with assault rifles. The big targets are easy to hit but their exoskeletons seem to deflect most of the bullets.

“They need to hit the eyes and joints,” I hear Jose's voice from behind me. I turn to look and see that everyone has gathered to watch. It's a good thing this TV is so big.

Mercy clings to my arm. I feel her warmth, her weight. It's reassuring. She's quickly becoming one of the only things I can rely on in this increasingly unpredictable world.

“The Koreans predicted this,” Mercy says. We all turn to Mercy. “In some of their dungeon-in-the-real-world fiction, if a dungeon isn't cleared, eventually there's a dungeon break. That's when the monsters escape and rampage.”

We continue to watch the drama unfold at the capital. The newscaster breaks in with a report that another location is confirmed as having monsters escape, the Kremlin. It transformed at the same time as the Pentagon.

We watch over the course of the next hour. It seems like, yes, dungeons that weren't cleared have monsters escaping from them. A lot of places aren't prepared for monsters so the death toll rises quickly. That's when I remember the Get! and I make my first real decision as the leader of fireteam Lupus Rex. (Yeah, I got to name the team.)

I turn to the people behind me. “Alright, how fast can everyone be ready to go? I want to hit the Get! now before it has a dungeon break.” I see my team (my team, wow!) nod. “One hour,” I say. “Meet at the Get!. See you there.”