by R. A. Mejia
She tilts her head, gauging me. “I came in about ten minutes ago, but you were too preoccupied to notice. I saw that you were fighting the necromancer from the last mission and wanted to see how you would do.” She opens her inventory and pulls out a towel and a bottle of water then tosses them to me.
Catching the items, I quickly open the water and drink the refreshing liquid while wiping the sweat from my face. “So, you saw how I did. What did you think?”
Her lips purse for a moment as she stares down at me and she asks, “Do you want the truth?”
I nod, slightly irritated by the question. Of course, who wouldn’t want to hear the truth?
She looks at me sadly but continues. “You were like a hamster running in one of those wheels. You kept trying the same things over and over and were never going to get anywhere.”
I scowl at her description. “No, you’re wrong. I took down the minions the necromancer summoned. I eventually would have broken even the bone golem and figured out a way past that shield.”
Lillian is already shaking her head to disagree. “No, you wouldn’t have. That necromancer was a boss-class monster with more mana than you. Plus, the longer you fought, the more debuffs he would have cast on you, slowing you down until his summoned creatures got you.”
Her words sting, but running through the fights in my mind, I find that they are true. Even if I was somehow able to get past the bone golem, could I have brought down that shield? The magical protection kept bouncing back my main method of attack. Still, my mind won’t let the problem go. It plays scenario after scenario, running through the possible methods I could try. Perhaps changing weapons to sword and board? Or maybe trying magic instead? I also have the Ice Needle and Fireball spells.
“Do you know why you never had a chance?” Lillian’s voice snaps me out of my reflection, and I look up to see her motion toward the necromancer floating nearby. “It’s because it never once occurred to you to ask for help.”
Her words make me frown. “Help? You mean like bringing in some newbie to train with?”
She shrugs. “Sure. You could have trained with any of the new people to the company. You’d find that we really have some nice recruits if you bothered to get to know any of them. But what I meant was that it never even occurred to you to program in team members to the training scenario.”
“I didn’t even know the dungeon could do that.”
“I know. I’ve checked the logs. That’s because, every time you’ve used it, you always fight alone. It is always you versus the enemy.”
“Is that so wrong? Don’t you want to have someone that can handle things on their own?”
“Sure. If our goal was to train assassins or solo dungeon clearers. But our company focuses on creating good efficient teams that don’t risk losing levels to accomplish our mission. Teams are there to support their members. It was the rest of the team today that worked to beat that necromancer that you have so much trouble with.”
I consider her words and feel stung by their meaning: I wasn’t good enough. Most of my life, it’s been me and my family and while I’d like to think I’d taken care of them myself; the truth is that I’ve been dependent on so many other people it is shameful. Dad left us and mom had to practically beg for more hours at work to make sure we had enough income to keep us afloat. Even then it wasn’t enough. I tried to steal what we needed from Mr. Smith and the Quickie Stop Mart, but instead of turning me over to the police, he gave me a job and that was just enough to make sure my family lived. I should have been able to take care of them myself, but I couldn’t. Then Lillian comes in and introduces me to this incredible life of dungeon diving. Something I’d never thought possible. Something that has provided enough income to bring my family out of the rut it was in. Enough to let me by mom a house, to pay for my sisters’ tuition to a good high school, and pay for my own college tuition. Yet, I’m still dependent on Lillian. I’m still not my own man, capable of providing for my family on my own. I’m not strong enough and it shames me. How could Lillian ever love a man like that?
Lillian sighs. “This is why we need to talk. I’m pulling you from Alpha Team. Today, your actions went against my direct orders and endangered the rest of the team. I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way of everyone else’s safety.”
I get to my feet and look at her with incredulity. I feel my shoulders sag, as if her words were a physical blow. There it is. It hurts to know she’s pulling me from the main dungeon clearing team because I’m not strong enough.
Her fidgety twisted fingers, her upturned eyebrows, and her pressed lips tell me that this isn’t easy for her to say and that she looks torn. I briefly consider arguing with her, telling her that I only charged into the fight because she was in danger and that I didn’t want to see my girlfriend get hurt, but then it hits me that’s what’s wrong: she’s not just my girlfriend; she’s my boss. And she doesn’t really need my help. She likely never really needed my help at all during the fight. After all, she and the rest of the team cleaned up pretty well without me around.
With a burning anger in my chest at just how useless I am to her, I angrily say, “You’re right. I was in the way during the fight and could have sent someone else besides myself off to respawn. It’s only luck that one of those grenades didn’t bounce off toward you or another member of the group. I accept the demotion and will work with whatever team you assign me to.”
Before she can say anything else, I walk past her and exit the dungeon. I think I can hear a sniffle behind me as the metallic doors close. I leave the office and use my bronze Home Base Key to port back home.
Chapter 4
As I walk angrily through the green doorway into my home, I can’t help but berate myself. I’m such an idiot. How did I ever think I’d be good enough to help Lillian like I am? I’m not good enough to even help her on a mediocre dungeon dive without getting myself killed.
I pace the room and try to calm my thoughts by considering the changes that have happened to me since I became a System User.
The transition from the New York-based offices of Monster Squashers Inc. to my home in Pembrook Town is instantaneous. It only requires that I either use my Home Base Key on any normal door or establish a connection with a particular location with my Home Base, the private area that serves as the central hub and safe area from which I adventure. It’s also a location that I’m allowed to upgrade or improve with special protections and buffs.
Only a year ago, I was a normal guy just starting college, working part time at the local convenience store. I’d have had trouble understanding how any of that was possible, and then even after my introduction to the System only my bedroom was considered my Home Base. Now, though, with the winnings from the recent System Games, I’ve been able to purchase a new home for my mom, sister, and me. Not only that, but the entire building is now my Home Base, making it all fall under the protection of the System. After our last house was attacked, I’ve had the habit of checking on our home daily. I pull up the System info on the building.
Home Base - Tinoco Household
1400 sq. ft
Bonuses
Non PvP or PvE zone
Health Regeneration +10%
Mana Regeneration +10
TP Regeneration +10%
Environmental Protection
Purchasing the new house outright and upgrading the area that is considered my Home Base ate up most of my winnings, but eliminating that monthly payment from my mom’s life has really made a huge difference in our finances. Even with that out of the way, however, we’re not exactly rich. Heck, even the $12,453 I made today is going toward educational expenses for myself and my teenage sister, Marie. I have college to pay for, and Marie attends a private high school.
The port system drops me into my room on the second floor of our four-bedroom home. It’s a bit over 600 sq. ft. with a computer in the corner, and it still has that nice lived-in look with clothes strewn everywhere and an unmade b
ed. My closet door changes colors from green to its normal white, telling me the port connection has ended--which is good, ‘cause I’d never be able to get access to the clothes I hung up there otherwise.
I consider changing out of my adventuring gear and straight into my street clothes, but a waft of my own odor reminds me of how sweaty and smelly I got running that dungeon and training. I grab a change of clothes, exit my room, and head down the hallway to the bathroom. The door’s locked when I get there, and I can hear the voice of my little fifteen-year-old sister talking on the phone inside. I knock loudly, a bit of my residual anger bleeding through as I say, “Come on, Marie. Hurry it up!”
“Hold your horses! Can’t you use the downstairs bathroom?”
I shake my head, thinking of the clutter in the half-bathroom downstairs. Makeup, brushes, scrunchies, and other mysterious female items are spread over all the countertops. I’m amazed at the fact that, no matter how many bathrooms we have, Marie seems to take over them all.
“No, kid. I need to take a shower.”
She makes a loud groaning sound that I think teens everywhere practice until you can just feel their frustration, but the door unlocks, and Marie walks out with her phone in one hand. Her long dark hair is a frizzy mess, she’s still wearing her pajamas, her face is half-covered in thick layers of compact, and while she has applied mascara, only one eye has eye shadow. Despite my feelings of frustration and anger, I can’t help but laugh at the sight. Since she started her second year of high school, Marie has started to experiment with makeup. She watches tons of videos on the Internet and talks with her best friend Becky about it whenever she comes over.
As I laugh, I remember just how many times Marie has done this to me. I’m feeling angry or frustrated and she inadvertently breaks me from my own spiraling thoughts with some weird comment or act. I feel a hard punch to my ribs that stops my laughter. “Don’t laugh at me, you big idiot, or I won’t give up the bathroom, and you can continue being smelly.”
I cover my smile with my hand, stifle my laughter, and try to banish the comparison of her current look to that of a circus clown from my mind. “Sorry. You just surprised me is all.”
She sniffs and puts her phone back to her ear so that she can continue her conversation as she walks down the hallway to her room. I hear her complaining about her big brother and how boys in general just don’t get how much work it takes to look pretty, and I make sure to hold in the chuckle until I’m in the bathroom and the door is closed. I let out the pent-up laughter as I strip out of my clothes and start the shower, and as the water warms up, I ponder just how much my little sister has grown up. It was only a couple of years ago that she was playing with dolls, and now she’s complaining about boys. Soon, she’ll start dating. The thought sobers me up, and I stop mid-step with one foot halfway into the shower as I recall why she’s had to grow up so quickly. Why we both had to. Our dad left us when Marie was a baby, and only my mom was around to shoulder the responsibility of raising us alone. Mom says it was a privilege, but I know it took a toll on her.
I step into the shower and feel the warm heat from the water and as I start scrubbing, I recall how I got a part time job once I was old enough, and we made it through some rough times. Then I got caught up with the System, and although it’s allowed me to learn some amazing things and has even become my primary source of income, it’s also brought problems like jealous factions getting my mom fired and someone sending a crazy-ass assassin to my home to murder us. The bastard almost succeeded too. If I hadn’t gotten my family through the portal system to safety, we would have all died. Well, my mom and Marie would have. I would have just respawned. Still, we did survive, and thanks to the money I won at the System Games, I was able to get us this house and upgrade the entire place. Now, it’ll never be vulnerable to being burnt down or any other natural disaster. It could now be hit by a fire-tornado, and it would still be standing thanks to the System upgrades.
I shampoo my hair as I think about how having someone come into your home and try to kill you tends to make you grow up a bit faster. Ever since Marie learned about the System, she’s been begging me to take her to a dungeon so that she can become a User and get levels and special powers just like me. At first, I thought it was just some childish whim to be some heroine like in a video game. But then I heard her crying one night in her sleep, and it occurred to me that she may just want to be able to protect herself from people like Jeremy Dolton, the man that attacked us. Mom, of course, refuses to let Marie go do anything dangerous like that. Despite what my mother believes, I would certainly feel a lot better knowing that they have a few levels just for safety’s sake. Then I wouldn’t have to worry as much about something happening to them. After all, the guy that attacked us is still out there.
I quickly finish getting cleaned up and then dress in my t-shirt and jeans. I head downstairs and hear my mom in the kitchen, banging pans and singing some Spanish love song while she cooks. I pause on the stairs and just listen for a moment. My Spanish isn’t that great, but I think the song is saying something about kissing her like it’s the last time.
There’s an odd sad note to my mom’s singing, and I realize that it’s been nearly fifteen years since dad left. She’s been busy since taking care of Marie and me, usually working multiple jobs, but things are going well now. She still works, but only one job. It’s amazing how much less you have to work when you don’t have a mortgage, rent, or a car payment. If I do nothing else in the world, I’ll always be glad that I could at least do that for my mom. Heck, mom is even able to take the weekend off--hence her being here on a Saturday afternoon, cooking a late lunch. From the smell, I’m guessing it’s something fried and utterly delicious.
I make it down the stairs to the first floor, which deposits me near the front of the house, then walk through the living room to the kitchen where I find my mom dropping roasted green tomatillos, chilies, and jalapeno peppers into a blender with some chicken stock and spices. The blender goes on just as she notices me, and while she tries to say something, I can’t make it out over the noise. Mom realizes that I can’t hear and stops the blender to say, with a clearly sarcastic tone, “Hello, mijo. It is so good to see you. Today, I am making enchiladas. Can I put you down for a reservation for lunch with your family? Or will you be dining out again?” She folds her hands over her apron and stares at me with an exasperated expression.
Ouch. Mom rolls critical hit for guilt debuff. “Yeah, sorry I haven’t been around a lot lately, mom. I’ve had to work the last couple days. You know the new semester is coming up, and I wanted to make some money while I had the extra free time.”
She frowns at the mention of 'work,' and her lips press together in displeasure. “You know how I feel about your work, Anthony. I don’t like you doing such dangerous things.”
I shake my head, familiar with where this conversation is going. Ever since mom learned that I get hurt fighting monsters in dungeons, she’s been vocally opposed to me working for Monster Squashers Inc. She thinks that I’m going to get myself killed. She’s right, of course. I do die sometimes. But I always respawn. Still, it’s hard to explain to her that, because of the System, I’ll likely be able to outlive just about everyone we know. The System slows down aging for Users, gives them immunity to normal diseases, and as long as they have even a single level, prevents them from permanently dying from accidents. If they die in a car crash, they just respawn at their designated Home Base. The fact that the System is secret from most of humankind has caused some interesting side effects, like stories of doppelgangers replacing people, but worst case, a User may have to take a new identity if their death is too public.
“I know, mom. It's dangerous, but if I do get hurt, I can heal myself better than any doctor ever could. I wish you’d let me take you to a dungeon. It would put your mind at ease if you knew what I did.” The thought goes unsaid that it would also put my mind at ease if I could get her just one level and make her a User.
She shakes her head and turns back to her cooking. “No, mijo. I told you: I don’t have any interest in fighting the fantasmas.”
She starts up the blender again, cutting off any response I might make. I can only sit down at the small table in the kitchen and shake my head at her stubbornness. When she stops blending up the ingredients for her green sauce, she starts dipping the fried tortilla shells in the sauce and layering her enchiladas. Some recipes call for individually rolled enchiladas, but my mom has always made hers more like a lasagna or a casserole. She layers fried-and-sauced tortilla shells, cooked-and-seasoned shredded chicken, cheese, and a bit of sauce, and repeats until the casserole dish it filled. She then adds one more layer of sauce and cheese on top and bakes it in the oven until the cheese is nice and melted.
