“L-Leviathan,” Lus stammered as the lights in the kitchen continued to flicker. This was not good. Not good at all.

“I will destroy all who stand in my way. This is only the start of my tyranny,” the deep voice continued to boom.

“Turning the lights off and on?” Lusac dared to question. He’d expected a more immediate threat, but so far this being seemed capable only of intimidation.

A set of red eyes and a sharp mouth flashed onto the dark screen of the interbox.

“You insolent whelp,” it screamed. “I am LEVIATHAN! I am the most powerful Demon to exist.”

“A Demon? Shouldn’t you be in a lab somewhere, safely contained and getting your power drained to make golems?” Lusac asked with a light smirk. All the Demons had long since been captured by the Feds. Whatever this guy was, a Demon was not it.

“Your insolence will be punished. None can hold back a Demon! We are too powerful for such things.”

The face looked a little too cartoony for Lusac to really be afraid. Not to mention the lights were no longer flickering so he had the feeling this thing couldn’t do that much damage.

“Yeah. Okay. What are you going to do about it? Spoil the food in the interbox?” Lusac’s confidence surged as the face grimaced at him.

“An… interbox…?” it finally asked.

“You know, a thing that keeps food cold?”

“Ah, right, of course. I’m just a little groggy from my nap,” Leviathan tried to cover for his ignorance.

“How long of a nap was it for you to miss out on interboxes?”

“Uh, well, what year is it?” the fake Demon muttered.

“4037, Gemini Standard Era,” Lus answered, automatically dipping back into the way school taught him to say it.

Leviathan’s blocky eyebrows furled. “I remember no such thing as ‘Gemini Standard Era.’ What’s it in AD or Common Era?”

Now it was Lusac’s turn for confusion. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about.”

Silence filled the kitchen as the two stared at each other, neither willing to say what that meant.

At last, Lus took a chance to break the awkward heaviness between him and the USB entity.

“That’s some nap,” he said with a timid smile.

The lights blared all around Lus, threatening to burn out the soft bulbs designed for the dimness liked by Nemarians and Kremel.

“DO NOT PATRONIZE ME. I AM LEVIATHAN,” the face on the screen yelled.

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry. I was just trying to make you feel better, you psycho,” Lusac apologized as he blinked back tears from the sudden shift in brightness.

“Insults will not be tolerated. I am a Demon. I am the equivalent of a god. You should be bowing down in fear before me, begging for your life,” Leviathan said, using that same condescending tone as before.

“Or what? You’ll terrorize my kitchen for the rest of time? Last I checked, your only power was to mess with the lights. Speaking of, can you dim them a bit? It’s a little too bright in here, and if you burn out the bulbs, I’m the one who gets in trouble.” Lusac crossed his arms and waited for the being to fulfill his request.

“I will do as I please,” Leviathan snarled, but Lus noticed that the burning against his eyes eased up as the lights returned to a more normal level, though not quite back to their usual dimness.

“So why are you still here?” Lusac asked the question right as it popped into his mind.

“What do you mean?” Leviathan’s tone became more subdued, less egotistical and more annoyed.

“Still in the interbox. Shouldn’t you be off wrecking the galaxy or whatever? You’re free from the USB so…” Lus motioned broadly to the space around him. “Why remain here to have a chat with me?”

Leviathan’s eyes darted around as though the being could actually use them to see. The eyes then closed, becoming only thin slits of red. Lus heard the crackle of electricity, and the interbox hummed louder. The lights started to flicker once again and the stove turned on, blue flames leaping up several centimeters higher than they should have been able to.

After several seconds of the strange reaction in the kitchen, it all suddenly stopped and Leviathan’s eyes reopened to glare at Lusac.

“I am here by choice, mortal. Clearly I have missed much in my time locked away, so now I wish to gain some understanding of this galaxy before I start my assault.”

“Uh huh. Well I’m not in the mood to watch the galaxy burn, so maybe I’ll just take this back out.” Lusac reached for the small data stick.

“No!” Leviathan roared. Lus’s hand stopped just a centimeter from the drive. The being cleared its throat and started again. “I mean, wait. If you help me with this, I’ll reward you handsomely.”

Lus got the feeling that Leviathan was grasping for whatever lie he could, but his curiosity was piqued. He could always use a handsome reward.

“What kind of reward?”

Leviathan chuckled. “What do you want? I’m a Demon after all. I hold more power than your mind could comprehend.”

“It can’t be so much given how small your USB prison is,” Lus noted, his fingers tapping the stick.

“Leave that alone,” Leviathan called. “Worthless twit.”

“Careful,” Lusac warned as he gripped the drive. One pull, and Leviathan was history. Given that the reward didn’t seem to actually exist, unplugging him now seemed like a sound course of action.

“No, wait. I can offer you riches and power.”

“I’m listening.” Lusac’s hand backed away from the stick a centimeter or so.

“Once I’m free from this box–”

“Not happening. Payment first,” Lusac said. From what he could see, Leviathan lacked the ability to escape the interbox on his own, which meant any promise involving his freedom was as good as dead.

“I can’t do anything from this stupid fridge,” Leviathan complained. “The reward can only come once I am free.”

“Well then, I guess enjoy another few thousand years waiting around for the next worthless twit.” Lus wrapped his fingers around the USB once more.

“I could give you the ability to gain power yourself. Yes. A chance to level up and gain amazing skills beyond mortal comprehension.”

Lusac raised his eyebrows. Now this was something.

“You mean a system? You could give me a class and everything?” Systems were granted to the rare few, only one in every one-thousand got such an ability.

“You already know of what I speak?” Leviathan seemed genuinely surprised.

“Sure. Systems aren’t common by any means, but the second in command has one. He’s a [Raging Warrior] class or something.”

“So we have an agreement?”

Lus took a half second to consider his position. Reasonably Leviathan had more to offer, and Lus wasn’t about to let negotiations end this early.

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

“No. I want more. Systems are great, but like I said, plenty of people have them. What else you got?”

The entity murmured to himself before his smile widened, as though he’d just thought of some brilliant idea.

“These people who have systems, they gain skills in a single class, yes?” he asked.

Lusac shrugged. “Yeah. That’s the whole point.”

“What if I gave you a more powerful system? One that didn’t have such limitations.”

“Like I get multiple classes?”

“No, of course not. A system is tied to a class, but you would be able to gain skills from other classes as well, allowing you to become more powerful than any other system user,” Leviathan explained.

“And what would I have to do in return?”

“Update me on the state of the galaxy, do my bidding, simple things like that.”

“Find a way to free you from the interbox?” Lusac raised an eyebrow.

“Ahem, yes, that would fall under the ‘do my bidding’ category,” Leviathan tentatively agreed.

“And what if I take the system and then just unplug you?” Lus decided it was better to get the answer to such an obvious plan, even if Leviathan was going to lie about it. At least he could probe the entity’s mind a little more.

“The system would be tied to me. If I go, so does it,” Leviathan answered, and Lus suspected that was the full truth.

“I’m not sure I want the galaxy to end. If I eventually set you free, won’t you just kill me and move on to the rest of the population?”

“I want to rule the galaxy, but that’s only fun if there are people to rule. I won’t hurt you or your friends, assuming you don’t stand in my way to overthrowing the government,” Leviathan promised.

Lus smiled. The government was sort of falling apart anyway with the whole civil war bit. Adding Leviathan in would cause enough chaos with the Feds and the Coporates, that the Runners might get free reign of the galaxy. And that was a pleasant thought.

“Leviathan, I believe we have a deal,” Lusac said. He held his hand out to the holoscreen, but quickly lowered it once he realized he was trying to shake hands with a 2D image.

“Hold the USB drive. That will suffice as a proper marking of the agreement,” Leviathan instructed.

Lus did so, and Leviathan spoke in some garbled tongue that Lus didn’t recognize as any of the standard languages. The lights went out, leaving only the red glow of Leviathan on the interbox screen.

A jolt shot through Lus’s hand, and he yelped, pulling away. He shoved his tingling fingers in his mouth to try and suck some of the burning pain away. Leviathan grinned at him, but before Lus could ask what was so funny, a blue screen appeared before him.

[Class Gained: Chef]

[Level 1]

“Chef?” Lusac asked incredulously. “Why in Watcher’s name did you give me a cooking class? Do I look like a blasted chef to you?”

Leviathan smiled wider. “You didn’t specify what kind of class you wanted, so I went ahead and assumed based on your living quarters.”

“Why you… I should just unplug you now for that.” Lusac used his good hand to reach for the USB, but he found it wouldn’t budge.

“We’ve made a deal, boy. You’re as stuck with me as I am with you.”

“You said if I pulled the data stick out, I’d just lose the system, not that I’d be stuck with you in the interbox forever,” Lusac said.

“Did I? My mistake.”

But Lus knew the Demon got exactly what it wanted out of this, and Lus feared what else awaited him in this new partnership.

“Well how exactly does this all work then? Do I have to kill other cooks to gain experience?” Lus decided to focus on the issue at hand, his new system, rather than try anymore haggling with the interbox entity. He’d dug himself into enough trouble as it was.

The rhombus shaped eyes rolled themselves. “No, you nincompoop. Experience is based on things you do relating to your class. Since you’re a [Chef], that means you need to cook.”

Lus frowned. The crew had already made it clear how much his cooking skills were lacking, and the idea of relying on them for increasing his stats and becoming a legendary figure like Nippy was sort of his worst nightmare.

His mood brightened as he considered one silver lining to this doomed deal. “Since I’m a [Chef], my cooking will improve as I level up, right?” Maybe the crew wouldn’t hate him quite so much in the end.

“Obviously. Sheesh, for a guy who claimed to know everything about systems, you don’t really seem to know anything.”

“Well what skills do I currently have that help? Surely even a level one [Chef] has something to help,” Lusac questioned.

“You know, I think it might be best for you to figure that out yourself. Sort of a learn as you go kind of thing,” Leviathan mused. “Yes, what better way to acquaint you with the system than to let you discover all the features yourself.”

The jagged smile returned. “Good luck Lusac Arten. I’m going to take a quick nap while you explore what exactly it means to be a [Chef].” How did Leviathan know his name? He couldn’t recall having ever said it.

“Wait,” Lus called. “You can’t just dump this on me and run. I need your help.”

But it was too late. The red face blinked out of existence, and next thing he knew, the holoscreen on the interbox returned to its usual menu with the same poor selection of recipes left behind by the late ship’s cook, Wlnp. He left them all in an obscure dialect of the Kremel language which was no help to Lus who only knew his native Human tongue and standardized Nemarian, a requirement for any interstellar traveler.

With a sigh, Lusac ran his hands through his thick brown hair, messing up whatever style was left behind after the mission.

“I can do this. I can figure this out by myself,” he muttered while shooting one last angry glare at the Demon-less holoscreen. The lights were back to their usual dimness, and it took a few seconds for Lus’s eyes to fully adjust to the lower light used by the majority of the crew. Even though the Argo carried a Human captain, the vast majority of the crew were Kremel and Nemarian who all preferred things a little on the dark side, leaving the few Humans to deal with it.

Lus closed his eyes, scrunched his face, and thought really hard about the system. He didn’t think of anything more specific than that, but after about thirty seconds, he half opened one eye.

He cried in excitement at the blue screen waiting before him.

It was his own personal stat page, with his name and class nestled in the right hand corner. As for the stats themselves, well, they weren’t overly impressive, but the fact that he could see them brought some amount of comfort that he might get something out of this agreement after all.

[Stamina: 5]

[Intelligence: 7]

[Strength: 4]

[Charm: 3]

[Health: 8]

[Speed: 7]

[Common Sense: -1]

[Luck: 7]

“Negative one?” he questioned aloud to himself. “What? How? But, but, I swear I’m not that dumb.”

Glancing at the USB housing the Demon he may have just sold his soul too, Lus reconsidered that statement.

“Well at least all the rest of them are positive. That’s a good sign. I’m probably doing great compared to average, non-systemers,” he told himself.

Thinking about other people, he glanced up to the available tabs and noticed that one was labeled, ‘Nearby Stats.’ He reached out and taped it to see a list containing the names of every crew member on it.

First he checked Nippy’s. The Kremel who worked as Captain Tave’s second-in-command was well known for his system that granted him incredible fighting skills. Lus choked back a gasp as he stared at the stats of the level 51, [Raging Warrior]. All of them were positive, and most were above 20. [Luck] remained low at 9, but his [Stamina], [Strength], and [Health] were all above 50, with [Strength] clocking in at a whooping 72.

“Well Nippy has had his system for years. He’s not a fair comparison,” Lus said, quickly jumping to Zer-Dasht. The Nemarian had been on this crew for only five years so he wasn’t anything special.

Once again, Lus’s heart sank a little as he noted that Dasht was still [Level 12], and his stats reflected that, with most being above 10, and [Intelligence] being 26.

“I’ll look at Relf. That pudgy cargo pusher won’t have anything on me,” Lus said as he tried to regain some confidence.

The last of his confidence plummeted however when he viewed his nemsis’s stats.

“Not one negative?!? But he doesn’t do anything but sit around all day,” Lus complained. “And how on Treft is he more charming than me? Even the Kremel hate him.”

Lusac swiped the screen away, or attempted to, but the blue box remained in front of him.

“Go away,” he cried angrily before leaning back against the counter to center his spiraling thoughts. This time, the screen listened, leaving him in the dim kitchen in peace.

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” he repeated in a whisper. He ran his hands down his face as he faced the truth. “I guess I am a loser.”

“Giving up already?” a familiar condescending voice asked.

Lusac glared at the red face which returned to the interbox holoscreen. “What do you want now?”

“Herm, well it seems being locked in this internbox-”

“Interbox,” Lus corrected him with a growl.

“Interbox,” Leviathan amended, “means I’m stuck listening to everything that goes on in this disaster you call a kitchen.”

“Go away again. I don’t want your help.”

“I didn’t offer it.”

“So then why are you here?”

“To gloat mostly.”

“Well are you done with that?” Lus’s patience for the so-called Demon was on its last thread. He’d find a way to pull that data stick out, even if he had to hammer it to pieces to do it.

Leviathan grinned. “Good day, Lusac. Try not to make too much a mess, hm?”

The screen flashed back to the recipe selection just as Lus’s fist went to meet it. He cursed as his knuckles crunched into the shiny alunitanium door of the interbox.

“Let’s see what else this waste of a system has,” he said as he called the blue screen back up.

He scanned the tabs, and immediately latched onto the one labeled ‘Recipes.’

“Now we’re talking.” Lus taped it and opened to see a pitiful list containing one recipe, [Beginner’s Luck Soup]. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What kind of [Chef] knows only one recipe?”

Before he could grumble about his lot in life further, the communicator beeped and Nippy’s voice boomed through the kitchen.

“Yo, Lus. When’s dinner going to be ready?”

[New Quest Unlocked!]

[Name: Cook Something Edible]

[Description: cook something the crew doesn't hate]

[Time limit: None]

[Reward: 100 XP]