Delver Killed! 5XP Rewarded
'Well... That just happened...'
The core thinks to itself as it looks over the charred remains of the first human to have found it. If it could put that human's performance to words, it would be shockingly, almost insultingly disappointing. Not because the human died, no, that just a part of dungeons. No it's practically ashamed of its first delver for how pitiful they were in it, not even putting up a fight for his life and dying in a single hit. The System even acknowledges this failure of a delver by only rewarding it 5XP for the death when it knows sapients should normally reward twice that for death if they were actually worth something. Maybe it's just a caveat of the planet not being integrated yet, but then again that human could've just been that pathetic. If that human's XP worth is the benchmark for this planet then The System really has their work cut out for them. At least his corpse will fuel further growth.
Putting aside the rest of its emotions, it absorbs the corpse and everything on it, cleaning up the mess left behind and restoring everything to how it was. Next it starts sorting through the objects the human had on him, appreciating the somewhat quality, albeit as far as it knows cheap, craftsmanship of them, figuring it can use them to refine future levels. Inspecting the electronics, it also studies how they work, taking its time to see how it ticks.
Spending almost a full day inspecting every circuit and wire in the cellphone alone, as well as another day on the flashlight and tools, it thinks it has a better grasp of more fine nonmagical circuitry, wiring, and lighting. First things first, Renovating the junction boxes! It realizes now they might be a little too shoddily put together and figures it can make them look like they actually were built properly now. After that, it's going to work on the cameras, try to get them actually functional instead of just looking nice.
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Meanwhile at Jasper National Park
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Angela is sitting in her 2007 Toyota Corolla, nervously biting her fingernails. John was supposed to have been in today, and the man is nothing if not diligent. He almost never misses work, and the one time he did after breaking a finger from having it crushed by a paint can didn't keep him out long as he was in the next day with a cast on his finger. Now he's missed the past two days he should've shown without as much as a text and she's worried for her friend. Taking a minute to calm her nerves, telling herself he probably just lost his phone, she calls the local non-emergency number and asks for a welfare check at his home. Telling herself it's all fine, she gets out of her car and heads back into the office, ready to end her lunch break.
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1 Week Later
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Finally, it works! It has taken quite a bit of trial and error, and some reverse engineering from the circuit boards in the computer template it's got, but finally it got an actual live feed going to the security room from one of the second floor cameras. Now to duplicate that a dozen times to hook the rest in.
...
This is going to take awhile isn't it? Sigh... Well, time to get to work then...
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Meanwhile at an Undisclosed Warehouse
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"God fucking dammit!" A burly American yells as he slams a fist onto the weathered plastic folding table, almost breaking part of it. He is absolutely incensed.
"B-Boss, listen, we don't-" A nervous, and noticeably smaller in size Canadian national crook starts to stammer out before being cut off by the aformentioned table being thrown to the side, crashing against the wall and scattering everything on it. Damn, there was 10 grand in loose cash there, and he's probably going to made to pick it all up and then count it again.
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"YOU DON'T WHAT?! YOU DON'T REALIZE WE MISSED A GODDAMN STASH WHEN CLEANING UP AFTER LAST YEAR'S FIASCO?! FUCK!" The American yells, punching the wall behind him and putting his fist through the drywall. He takes a moment to calm down somewhat, thinking over everything's thats happened. After the decapitation strike that caused the feds to get all of their gang's head members either shot dead or killed in vehicle wrecks, everything's been a mess. He's currently holed up in their Vancouver headquarters, using a hidden basement beneath a shell truck company warehouse.
It took less than 3 months for the various cartels and smaller gangs back home to cannabalize their holdings and turf, a feat made easy when the traitor sold addresses to their rivals. They've lost everything back in the US, and are only holding together in what little holdings they've gathered in Canada. He cut off that rat-bastard's limbs before throwing his screaming soon-to-be corpse into an abandoned quarry, figuring that sent a message to whoever's not dead.
When he took control in the power struggle, he cleaned house, removing everyone who had disloyalties, then worked to claw their way back to the limelight, slowly working to take control over Western Canada. Thank god their main supplier is still in business, so he's not completely screwed yet. It helped that there were several drug and cash stashes left around that they could collect to help rebuild. He thought they got them all but APPARENTLY they missed one.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he faces the quivering underling. "Tell me, where is the asshole?" He commands with a gruff voice.
The Canadian, shking only slightly, readies to respond. That's a feat the two enforcers also in the room can be impressed by, most low-levels usually are giving a panic attack by the American's rage. "He-... He's some nobody janitor at the Jasper National Park ranger's office... Apparently he disappeared a week ago-" Anything further is cut off by his windpipe being crushed in signle fist by the mountain of a man in front of him.
The American is absolutely dripping in bloodlust now. "You're telling me, some fucking janitor found MY MONEY and just fucking DISAPPEARED!? GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!" His rage is back in full force now. "THAT BASTARD COULD BE IN GODDAMN COSTA RICA BY NOW!"
He throws the burgalar throw the door and out into the dank hallway. The Canadian is just thankful to not have any broken bones, but he can tell he's going to be out of commission for a week. Suddenly a boot is planted on his chest before he can get up.
"What. Is. The. Bastard's. Name?" The American says, each word dipping with venom. The Canadian can barely studder out the answer. "Jon-... Jonathan... Bant..." He gasps out.
The boss looks over to whoever else is present, yelling so everyone in the building can hear. "FIND ME THAT BASTARD JONATHAN BANT! WHOEVER GETS ME MY MONEY, OR THE INFO WHERE IT IS, GETS A BONUS! NOW FUCKING MOVE!" He commands, being met with a mix of 'Yes sirs' and scampering feet. He is a brutal gang head, but he also makes sure to pay enough to ensure loyalty and zipped lips. He would hate for a repeat of before after all. Stingy bastards.
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Later at the Dungeon
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There, done. The camera network is fully functional. It does more than just look pretty though. The lanky abomination can use it to see how the delvers will be or where they are, or if a delver finds it, so see where other monsters are. A double-edged sword but one it thinks will be fine.
Now, improvement time. First, it reviews the junction boxes, looking over how they look. It does admit the part that actually matters, the functional part, is rather haphazard and could use improvements. First, organization. It starts rearranging the switches and fuses, making some neat rows, which also allow it to fit more in there. With two neat columns of breakers and a row of fuses along the bottom, it can feel the blueprint update, giving it easy access to update the rest present. Would've been nice to use for the cameras but admittedly they aren't of good enough quality yet to warrant that yet. Hell, the feeds are barely black and white.
When the rest are upgraded, it figures now it'll work better at tricking unwary delvers. After all it's gotta kill at least one of them that way as intended before it feels good about trapping them.
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Meanwhile at Jasper National Park
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It's been official for awhile now. Jon's gone.
Well, not dead, just missing. Angela doesn't feel better about that though. It's been over 2 weeks. She's spent enough time around law officials to know that at this point and with no word from Jon or potetial kidnappers that he's almost as good as dead.
God... She does sincerely hope he's ok, but she thinks it's time for her to take some time off to mourn. He was a good friend, she thinks. He wasn't the most sociable person but he wasn't a dick either.
Today though, it's just another day at the office. Hopefully she can get through it fine, but the tear on her cheek and more somber mood in the air says otherwise.