“How the hell did I get here?”

Noodles whipped at me from every direction. I held my arms up to stop them, sprinting around the arena-like kitchen. Knives flashed past constantly. I had to avoid boiling cauldrons of soup. This was a nightmare. The non-slip concrete floor was slick with spilled food and broth.

“This really isn’t very safe, you know!”

I dodged two more knives aimed at my throat. Don laughed from where he hovered like an organic, food-based Doc-Ock. He was grinning maniacally, using his hundred noodley tentacles to lob random kitchen shit at me.

“I call this my Dan Dan special!”

An entire uncooked chicken flew at me, splattering marinade everywhere.

“What the fuck, man?”

He threw two massive woks filled with spicy fried rice next. I jumped to clear them, doing a twist as several sharp metal spatulas sliced through the air under me. My fists were useless, I couldn’t close the distance to the madman.

“Come, now. If you can dodge a pot, you can–”

“Hey! Let’s not get into quotes like that!”

A wrench flew at me from the side, clocking me in the jaw. I grunted and grabbed at the spot, wondering if my jaw was cracked and was that blood I was tasting?

A noodle snagged my ankle while I was distracted and yanked me upside-down. I dangled in the air for a long moment until a hundred different food articles slammed into me. I was unceremoniously dropped, landing hard on my head. I groaned and curled into the fetal position.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“I don’t understand how this will help me advance in the tower, let alone learn to cook your signature dish.”

The barrage stopped, though a single raw egg slapped onto my head and ran down my cheek and over my nose. I spluttered, wiped it away, then slowly stood. I was covered in so much food, I looked like the lunch lady’s ghost monster from that one cartoon I had seen as a kid. I tried to shake some of it off, but it clung stubbornly to me. I was thoroughly grossed out.

“Come, have a seat over here.” Don pointed down at one of the massive soup cauldrons set into the floor. It had calmed down from before, looking to be at a simmer instead of a rolling boil.

“Uh, one, that’s soup, and two, won’t that kill me?”

He looked at me with a wild side-eye, then cracked another unsettling grin. “What? No, of course not. You’re level ten, aren’t you?”

I nodded, and he pointed more insistently at the pot. I shook my head. He sighed, then used his noodles to lower himself in. He sighed, like he was getting into a hot tub.

“Really?”

“Really,” he said with his eyes closed. I could still see the health bar at the top of my vision.

DON DON, THE DAN DAN DON

HP: ???/???

Level: 20

“You know, I’ve dealt with some really weird shit in this dungeon. There was a rock golem on the ground floor, and I fought dragons in slot machines. After that, I had a meeting with an angel, like a real one, and had whiskey with him. Then a weird auto-battler kind of game, with living people that died over and over again.”

He didn’t respond. I blew a half-hearted raspberry, then stepped into the pot across from him. To my surprise, it didn’t feel like soup. The food stuck to my skin immediately loosened, then began to drift away. To add to that, it was the perfect temperature. Just hot enough to make my skin tingle, without being scalding.

“Look, not to be rude or anything, but, uh, are we still fighting?”

“We were never fighting to begin with.” He had his head laid on the back edge, arms floating in the clean-feeling but disgusting-looking water. He still had his apron and work clothes on. The whole situation felt weird.

I sank into the water until only my face was out. At that point, I didn’t care. Besides, the water really did feel surprisingly clean. Every time I looked at it, it seemed clearer. It could have just been my imagination, but I didn’t think that was the case. Several minutes passed before Don startled me.

“Were you going to finish your thought?”

“What?” I spluttered as water splashed into my nose. I could taste the water in the back of my throat, and as I suspected, it was so clean as to be flavorless. “What thought?”

“You were telling me about the weird things you have experienced.”

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“Oh, right. Uh, sure. I fought a kraken with a legendary spear, killed it in like one or two hits.” That made me think of the sliver that had come out of the game with me. I shook my head and got back on track. “There was a game that I played with three mob bosses. Huh, I almost forgot that they were bosses. Makes them like you.”

“Ah, yes. You must surely be speaking of Messrs Selvaggi, Branciforte, and Coopman. I am familiar with them. What game did you engage in?”

I snorted. “You know them? Of course you do. Like I said before, it was this weird auto-battler. I had an army that I could direct, but not control. The units that fell to my army were converted into gold, and I bought upgrades that way. I never did catch the name.”

“Yes, I know that game. In my world, it was called ‘Four-Arms’, after the four weapons that decorated the card deck.”

“Uh, most decks have hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades, at least, here. And I don’t remember the deck having different suits. In fact, I’m pretty sure it had those.”

“That would be localization. There’s always something lost in translation.”

“Four-Arms. Alright then. So, I played that with them. Won after something like ten rounds.”

“Impressive,” he murmured.

“Then I was sent up. After that I fought a guy in an arena.”

“Missing a bit there?”

I shook my head. “No, that’s the order of things. I beat that guy, I was given a free ride to level ten, which was fairly disappointing. It was a single monster that was held in place for me.”

“Ah, yes. Well, a deal is a deal.”

“After that, I was sent to your kitchen. That’s more-or-less it.”

“You have skipped a large number of levels, then. That would explain how you are here so early, however. I was not expecting my first entrant for at least three months.”

I looked around the weird kitchen-come-combat-arena. “Is that why you’re… not fighting me?”

“I am not fighting you because I don’t wish to. As for what that was earlier, I was simply…” he cracked an eye and smiled impishly. “Letting off some steam.”

I groaned. That was absolutely terrible.

“Don Don, I get the urge to make puns, but that was half-baked at best.”

“So, you’ve mustard the courage to ketchup to me.”

“That was downright cheesy. Taco ‘bout low hanging fruit.”

He snorted. “Hey, I’m a big dill around here. But I admit, you’re on a roll.”

“Well aren’t we just a pear of cunning linguists.”

I couldn’t help myself and I laughed after that one.

“I believe that we have spent enough time in here. You have become far too saucy.”

He stood and I watched as the water dropped away. It was like his clothes had a hydrophobic coating. He didn’t even look wet. I stood, hoping my clothes would be the same. They were not. Instead, I was weighed down by what felt like a hundred pounds of water trapped in my formerly nice suit. There was one noticeable difference, however. I no longer had blood, gore, and random bits of enemies stuck to me. The smell that had been percolating was gone as well.

“Much better,” Don said. “Now I can stand to be within ten feet of you.”

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad.”

He glared up at me. “Not that bad? You smelled like week old roadkill on the side of the road. I’m fairly certain someone urinated on you at some point.”

“I don’t think…” I tried to think back. “I mean, it’s probably been a while since I showered, sure.”

“When did you enter the Silver Spire?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a day or two ago?”

He shook his head, and I saw his eyes unfocus as he looked at a screen only he could see.

“This says you’ve been here for three weeks.”

“Well, that’s just not possible.” I shook my head. “No way. It’s been like a day at most.”

“I have smelled rotten meat that was more pleasant than you when you walked into my kitchen.”

“Why has nobody said anything?”

“Probably because you keep skipping the rest floors. Not that I blame you, those floors aren’t open yet. Only a handful are. In fact, you will likely finish the dungeon in a fraction of the time projected, because you skip so many levels. Nobody will ever match your record.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Of course.”

“What happens now? And, well, why do the bosses of these levels keep acting nicely?”

“You have caught most of us at a relatively good time. That, or you’ve been a convenient excuse to slack off for a bit. As for what happens now… perhaps we will have a fight.”

I wearily took a stance. Despite how refreshing the weird tub-bath thing had been, I wasn’t ready to fight the old man. He shook his head.

“No, not that kind of fight. We will do something that is more of a middle ground. But first, we must dry you off.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” I started to say, then noticed I was still dripping everywhere. There was a growing puddle of water at my feet. He looked pointedly at the puddle, then back up at me. He smirked and snapped his fingers. Two massive blowtorches appeared out of nowhere. I yelped, surprised as much by the man-sized flamethrowers as by the four-foot long blue flames they emitted. The heat was unbearable. I raised my hands to cover my face, hardly even noticing the steam that practically exploded from me. Something tickled the back of my mind, and it took a long moment to click. I was transported back to a high-school chemistry class for a moment.

“Always wear your p.p.e., guys.” Mister Thornson, the overly energetic chemistry teacher for my school, always spoke like that, like he was our contemporary instead of our teacher. Looking back, he had seemed old, but now, with the benefit of a few years, I would guess he was at most in his late twenties. He was actually pretty close in age to us. More so, at least, than most of our teachers.

“Especially your gloves. Getting a burn from boiling water hurts, but steam is way worse. In fact, it’s the worst burn you can get, because the steam itself scalds you, then the condensing water burns you again. You do not want that. Wear your gloves!”

I snapped back to the present, where, once again, I noticed the sheer amount of steam pouring off me. I was not being burned, however. In fact, I was pleasantly warm, like putting on a pair of pjs fresh from the dryer.

“How am I not being barbecued right now?”

“Magic, boy. Magic.”

I groaned. “Of course it’s magic. Something comes along and breaks the rules of physics. The answer?”

“Always magic,” Don interrupted with a smile. “Now, let’s return to the kitchen. We have a competition to participate in.”

I groaned. “What is this one?”

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.” I sighed. “Lead on. Can you tell me what we’re going to be doing at least? Will it make more sense than you whipping me with noodles and throwing things at my head?”

“That was merely a warm-up. Truth be told, it was also an excuse to cover you in food so you would take that bath.”

I let out a dry half-chuckle. “Fine. What is this competition, though?”

“I assume you do not have fine culinary skills.”

I shook my head as I followed him from the arena back to the industrial kitchen. “Nope. Most cooking I’ve ever done was make ramen. I burned the ramen one time.”

Don shot a worried look at me. “How?”

“I was crazy stoned and forgot to add the water.”

“Ah. Well, you are not petrified currently, so that should not be a concern.”

I started to open my mouth to correct him, then shook it and let the issue go.

“What is your go-to dish when you want to impress someone?”

I grinned. “Oh, that’s easy: queso a la parrilla.”