Chapter 51: Immigration Agency

Most big cities have at least one dungeon, ruin or arena and nobody but the Koreans really expected the dungeon breaks. My people, being true nerds and the originators of dungeon-based modern fantasy fiction, had this shit on lock down. They're already turning dungeons into money making opportunities.

The military and police are doing a pretty good job, for the most part, of putting down the dungeon breaks. We all, across the world, learned that a dungeon breaks for a number of hours equal to its floors. This also let humanity figure out how big each dungeon is, by timing the dungeon breaks.

As many expected, the Pentagon and the Kremlin are both the biggest dungeons at 100 floors each. And thus, we basically confirmed that dungeons were made from places that people had resentment towards. How big and powerful a dungeon became was proportional to that resentment.

A lot of places are getting really, really fucked up by monsters. Basically any place that doesn't have a strong on-hand military or militarized police force. Iceland was almost annihilated.

And of course the dungeons themselves are impossible to destroy from the outside. People tried. They used super powerful bombs. Nothing. It's as if the dungeons themselves are slightly out of tune with our dimension. At least that's what the current theory is.

Ruins and Arenas haven't had anything weird happen to them yet, but those are weird to begin with.

Ruins are typically culturally important areas that people felt deserved to be protected. The Eiffel Tower, the Lincoln Memorial, the Grand Canyon. All now ruins. The problems with ruins are two fold.

The first problem is that when a place became a ruin it distorted the land around it, often taking on aspects of the ruin core. The area around the Eiffel Tower is now dotted with steel spikes. A lot of more popular, well known ruins also grew, taking up to 1000% more space. The Grand Canyon now stretches across the north half of Arizona. Of course, these changes brought calamity to millions of people around the world.

The second and even more deadly feature of a ruin is that each is guarded by monsters. These monsters are usually all of one type at least, like the Lincoln Monument being guarded by marble golems. Although, since most ruins are open air, a good old rifle and scope can take out these foes at safe distances. The monsters come back every 24 hours and, oh, they're not trapped in the ruins like dungeon monsters are. Now roving bands of lizardmen wander Arizona, and the Grand Canyon keeps spewing them out no matter how many are killed.

There are only a handful of arenas around the world. They're like dungeons in that they're warped structures, but instead of being converted by human contempt or reverence, they're seemingly converted by... Sports? Most of the arenas are sports stadiums. The Roman Colosseum is the big one, now a staggering 1500 feet tall. When people enter an arena they get to wager their levels and fight monsters appropriate to how many levels they wager. You don't gain any levels from these fights, but the loot seems to be really good. Though about half the people who enter arenas die, soooo I don't know if it's worth it.

I'm finalizing documents to buy my new house when I get the call for the next mission.

Over the phone Davis says, “the Ellis Island historical society would like you to see if you can clear its ruins.”

“Ellis Island?” I ask, casually sliding the check for several hundred thousand dollars across the table to the realtor.

“The former immigration point in New York City. It was turned into a ruin. Nobody's actually been able to clear a ruin and turn it back yet so this is an experiment. We have a few ideas but need you to test them.”

“So we'd get to go to New York City?” I ask, more excited about a potential vacation than the mission. I sit back in the overly plush chairs of the realtor’s conference room.

Davis sighs. “We'll fly you out and if you stay after the mission that's your call.”

“Hell yeah, I'm bringing my girlfriend.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“She's not going to be a part of the mission is she?”

I sign paperwork. It's a lot of paperwork. “Sure is. We've been practicing the last few days.”

“I don't want to know what you're practicing with that girl.”

“Not that. Well, yes, that. But she got a class and has some items and stuff. She'll be like Gwen. Not really a fighter yet but could be if she gets levels and combat experience.” I have a lot more papers to sign.

“Whatever. If she dies it's your fault.”

I finally finish signing and they slide me keys. “Nope, not gonna die. She's got a magic costume.”

It's two days later and my team is aboard a ferry to Ellis Island. The big boat usually carries hundreds of tourists. This time it's just six. The team this time is me, Jose Amarillo, Odysseus Grant, Madeline Diaz, Gwen L'Ronge and Mercy Mahar. Most of us are back in our military clothes and armor. All of us except Mercy.

Mercy's costume is white and lime green. She has a cloak that's white on the outside and lime green on the inside. When she moves in it the colors in motion are incredible. She also has an open white coat over a lime green shirt. A big, witch-type hat droops slightly around back, and is similarly white with green interior/underside. She also wears dark grey mid thigh shorts. The character in the web novel wears pants but Mercy says the outfit is too hot with pants, thus shorts. I, being a lover of thick thighs and tight shorts gripping said thighs, am not complaining.

To go with the outfit is a staff that is usually just a thin, dark grey stick. With the costume contest medals applied it becomes a spear, the spear tip made of glowing, lime green magic. Altogether, she looks way more dressed for magical fighting than I do in my camo armor.

Mercy gains six powers when she's wearing her “White Hat Warlock” costume and the 1st, 2nd and 3rd place costume contest medals I got from the Halloween department. The character is from a web novel of the same name. The title character comes into contact with a sexy Internet Elemental and forms a saucy bond with her and he (the warlock) gains data and interwebs based magic spells. So that's what Mercy has access to. The important power is System Shell, which protects her from harm like a sci-fi or video game shield. It takes damage for her until it is destroyed, then recharges later.

Each of us is now wearing at least one enchanted ring, from the pile of them that dropped from the Get! dungeon boss. Each gives just a couple points to one stat or another, but if you can put on a ring and suddenly be faster, you put on the damn ring.

The choppy seas and dark grey waters of the Upper Bay are less than welcoming. The overcast skies promise a full on deluge. We look out at the formerly U-shaped island which is now more of an UHH. Ellis's main building is an old, brick, three-story rectangle. The old docks were long gone and only the newer concrete pier was on the shore. The new, post Dracosys facility has rows of dilapidated wooden piers mixed with crumbling brick walls and piles of refuse. The main facility is still intact, or at least it looks that way from the outside.

“Gwen,” I say, gathering the team. “Pretend I have memory loss and give us the briefing again.”

She rolls her eyes but complies. “Ze museum facility comprised but half of the full island. We must explore both ze newly renovated museum and ze older, unsafe, original Ellis Island property.”

“What are we looking for?” I ask the group.

Mercy cheerfully chimes in. “Anything weird!”

“Right,” I say. “More specifically we're hoping to find a ruin core. It might be a glowing orb like a dungeon core, or it might be a historically important object, like Gwen has theorized.”

Gwen continues. “Ze other possibilities are some sort of key location or control system. We honestly have no idea. We know ze dungeons have cores behind their boss rooms. We know each castle has a special stone dais with stone controls. So ze ruins may have either one of those, or something entirely different.”

I nod. “Hostiles, Diaz?”

“Zombies, sir.” Diaz says flatly. She's prepping her morphing cube weapon.

“Right, but, details?” I ask, more insistantly this time.

Diaz elaborates. “Zombies. Classic slow ones. Non-viral unless you get killed by one. So you can get bit and it's fine, probably. They're not any tougher than regular people.” She pulls the ballistic shield off her back and puts the morphing weapon into axe mode. “Shouldn't be a problem as long as we clear each area and don't get surrounded.”

“Right. Anyone else have anything?” I ask.

“Yes,” comes Grant's cyber voice. “Where's Henry?”

“Our future president is at his brother's wedding,” I say. “Nothing medical, sinister or sad. Just a scheduling conflict.” Grant nods.

“Where's Biscuits J. Cannonball Jr?” asks Mercy. She knows that I don't want the cat on missions so I left her at home. I just glare at her.

We close in on the facility and drop a navy Zodiac inflatable boat in the water for the last quarter mile. We each climb down into it and Jose starts the outboard engine. It putters to life and off we go to the east side of a zombie infested island.