Dungeon Configure: Book One Dark Exchange

by Troy Neenan

  The thermite going off was like seeing a mini volcano erupting. Sparks flew up and nearly touched the ceiling. David was impressed, he had thought that the light would be intense enough that it would brighten the entire room, and while it hurt to look at the inferno, the luminescence was focused similar to sparkler only a thousand times bigger and hotter.

  That was when the walls of his room screamed. “Rrrrrrrrraaaaaa!”

  The dungeon and by extension the security room, vibrated as some unearthly presence ripped through David's domain. David reached out for his desk and cursed through his teeth. He felt the invasion tear through his body, the intrusion striking him like a huge fist to the balls. He opened his teary eyes to see a new warning show up.

  Warning. You have engaged in warfare against another dungeon. You critically wounded the Clawing Fate Dungeon.

  “What?!” David screamed, not yet understanding the level of trouble that he had just slid into. More prompts flew by him.

  It has been discovered that 21,000 of your minions have been secretly stolen by dungeon Clawing Fate.

  David's map lit up and red dots started to appear all over his screen like his domain had just contracted chicken pox. All across his monitors a civil war broke out as his insects began to attack one another without cause.

  “Warrrrrrr!” The cry was like a T-Rex had picked up Darth Vader's mantle.

  As his little kingdom shook and his troops began to get massacred, David thought.

  Working under stressful conditions was the day to day occurrence for a trouble shooter. A client screaming at you that nothing is working, a boss demanding impossible conditions, limited knowledge. Well, that was just Tuesday as far as David was concerned.

  He took this all logically. From the prompts, a dungeon was attacking him. A dungeon that he had critically hurt. This had only happened after he had ignited the thermite on top of the bastard armour. Therefore, logically, the armour was a dungeon. Or to be more precisely, a dungeon core.

  It made sense in a way. The reason that he couldn't put the thing inside his storage had nothing to do with space problems; it was because of some Dungeon code or something stupid about fair play. Possibly it was also a technical issue, but that wasn't the problem right now, because David had to get rid of this prick.

  You have gained the achievement. Logical.

  You have discovered a part of your nature. Many a man has broken under extremes and rapid changes to their situation, but not you. Where others turn hysterical, you remain calm and in control. While weaker men break as the world crumbles around them, you ponder your next step.

  Reward. 10% increase in processing time during stressful conditions. 5% resistance to mental attacks.

  David's attention was drawn to the monitor where the thermite was just starting to run out. The enemy dungeon looked horribly damaged, its arms and legs were just common scrap and the chest plate had a huge hole in it, despite all of that, David watched in awed fascination as what was left of Lord Strob's armour sat up straight.

  “Shit,” David cried out. He was dealing with a suit of living armour. He was about to begin filling the entire place with thermite when the monitors shut down.

  “Come on,” David yelled and banged the nearest screen with his hand. The screens lit up simultaneously, but instead of seeing his dungeon what David saw was the image of a giant metal eyeball.

  “You are mine. I claim you.” said the low menacing voice sounding very pissed off.

  Warning. Without a dungeon core to stake claim over your domain, your dungeon is at risk of being taken over by a hostile dungeon core. You have two minutes before dungeon is converted to Clawing Fate's control.

  Logical must have taken effect, because time itself seemed to slow down. It wasn't like he was able to dodge bullets; David was just processing information at a faster speed. It took just ten seconds to pass before David realised how screwed he was and then another five to accept it.

  Swearing every moment of it, he pressed five buttons.

  During his six months of being absolutely bored out of his mind, David had come to the conclusion that he would most likely face something very nasty. If a real demon turned up, not just David but the Earth itself could have been screwed. So the dungeon had made a contingency plan.

  As soon as David pushed the keys, he felt a huge weight bear down on him.

  “No, little cave. I will not let you hurt me again.” the opposing dungeon said. David guessed that the dungeon had not been spending its stay inside him with its thumbs up its arse. From how easily it had turned his forces traitor, the arsehole had been slowly infiltrating him.

  David felt something inside him shift; he had just over a minute before he was taken over, not enough time to bring out any thermite, but enough to spit in this monster's eye. “Not what I was doing, dickhead.”

  He had not been expecting to ever fight against another dungeon core. From what he could tell from his own case, a dungeon core that could move outside of its domain was as rare as Asian women with natural F-cup breasts. A dungeon core that just happened to take on the shape of a suit of armour and stumbling into his domain.

  Whatever had brought the bastard thing in here, David had no idea why it didn't try to take him over before. It had been months since he had killed those men. Enough time to do whatever it wanted.

  There would be no victory here, no grand battle. The nameless dungeon had only destruction before it. There was no way that David could move his bunker makers into position to eliminate the enemy core before it took over and it would take precious minutes to create the explosive.

  With no avenue of escape it became time for petty acts of vengeance. This Clawing Fate would take everything that belonged to the dungeon as its own. Well, that was just fine by David.

  The opposing dungeon must have felt something move because it let out a bellow, “What are you doing?”

  “Pulling the copper wiring out of the walls,” David said. If he was going to be forcefully evicted he was going to take this place down with him.

  The ceiling cracked open and David felt like he had just eaten glass as his starting room collapsed in on itself. The dungeon hadn't realized how painful it would be to destroy apart of himself, but the torture didn't and couldn't stop.

  David never really got the idea behind a self-destruct button. It was all just so stupid. Why would a super villain have such an obvious weakness? A younger David just felt that Cobra Commander and Skeletor were mentally handicapped.

  You spend all that time and money building a fortress and then you just throw it all away? Who plans for something like that? Who bloody thinks that putting tons of highly combustible explosive within plaster walls and then wiring that explosive to a single great big button is a good idea?

  Then, one day when he was in a particularly bad mood, it came to David. The idea of a self-destruct button wasn't to commit financial suicide or because you were as dumb as a brick. Only when he thought about the concept behind having a big red button that could kill and bury everything that he owned did it make sense. It was a smoke screen for the villain to escape.

  “Ahhhh. You will pay for hurting me,” Clawing Fate promised.

  “Already am,” David squeaked, it felt as if a truck had run over him. Who knew fucking yourself would hurt so much?

  “This will not stop me from claiming this domain.”

  “No,” David agreed. He looked up at the screen and glared at the mechanical eye, which glared back at him with a hate that only an ex-wife could muster.

  He had just seconds to spare before this motherfucker destroyed him and confiscated all of his hard work. David opened his mouth to say something witty and clever, something an 80's action hero would say when facing against the villain.

  He never got the chance as the security room and David were deleted from existence.

  Chapter Nineteen

  He had been in Kent's car when it happened

  David felt a very important piece
of him die, an organ that he never knew he had failing. His domain was under attack. There was no need for proof about the reasons behind this assumption, no need to be told that his world was coming undone, David could feel it. He could feel it like a mother could feel the death of her child, could feel it like a twin would feel the pain of their sibling.

  As Kent told him to hang on as he drove through Melbourne's notorious traffic the Dungeon Core was blasted with prompts.

  Your dungeon is under attack by Dungeon Clawing Fate. Return to your domain immediately.

  Your dungeon has initiated custom designed self-destructive procedures.

  Your dungeon has inflicted damage upon itself.

  Dungeon Clawing Fate is attempting to reconnect to previous dungeon domain.

  Knowing what Kent intended to do; David grabbed the man's wrist, and pulled out ten gold coins. “No hospital. Please. Take me to a ho...” The Dungeon Core's world turned black.

  ***

  This time the Dungeon Core had been ready. He knew that he was going to become unconscious and decided that it would be better to spend the time doing something constructive.

  He was in his hotel, the place that he and his dungeon had set up as his game room. The Dungeon Core admired the place, he had sent pictures to the dungeon, and he didn't have the necessary time to fiddle around with it himself.

  It was, of course, not a real hotel but more of a desktop image. There were no slot machines, no waitresses, nor anything that David would associate with a hotel, but it was an improvement over the swirling mists that he had before.

  The Dungeon Core sat down in his chair and he examined the huge glass table before him. As the only real piece of furniture in the place, the Dungeon core had turned it into giant-sized tablet.

  Your dungeon has been taken over by Clawing Fate.

  Quest alert: Coup d'état.

  A dungeon core cannot survive long without a domain. Because of the special circumstances of your realm and your dungeon core, you cannot recreate a domain. Your only action is to claim your previous domain by force.

  Conditions: Reclaim your dungeon in seven days.

  Reward: A dungeon.

  Penalty for failure: Death.

  Due to your dungeon being shut down, minions that had previously under your control have been let loose into the world.

  Due to your dungeon's last actions all of your creatures are dead and your domain has been corrupted.

  Well shit. David let out a deep sigh and seriously wanted to punch somebody in the face.

  He knew rationally that his dungeon would eventually come under attack, but not this soon and not by another dungeon. Now David had a timer over his head, counting down the seconds until his demise. He would need to get over to Darwin and soon.

  But then what? For all he knew this Clawing fate brought an army of monsters with it.

  Unable to escape the hotel until his body healed itself from the drastic change, David searched through his current supplies. He still had over $800,000 in gold coins. It was more money than he would ever see in one lifetime, but would it be enough to take back his dungeon?

  He searched through the other logs and found something else interesting.

  Dungeon configuration, David Mascoff Version 1.0.1.6 has been saved.

  A bit of typing and David just had to smile at himself. His dungeon had found a way to make a backup of itself, a recording of its progress and its mind. From the looks of it, all David had to do was insert this AI back into his dungeon and all of the settings would be transferred over. The trick was that he had to get into the blasted cave and wrestle with a death trap.

  He looked at his hotel. Time went differently here. Much like a computer, in this realm David was able to think and act much faster than in the outside world. That was good; he would need that time to plan his next move.

  ***

  “You look... healthier.” Kim said.

  “Up yours, bitch.” Cassidy laughed.

  One phone call was all it took for most of Cassidy’s friends to come visit her. It was a Sunday so it wasn't as if any of them had work, or school, or jobs, or anything better to do besides videoing themselves reacting to trashy TV.

  Being semi-popular in an all girls’ school, Cassidy chose to keep in touch with most of her friends after graduation, going so far as to rent a house with two of them. After what happened with the arsehole with the Molotov cocktail, the girls' friendship was tested as many of her companions couldn't stomach being in the same room with her without either crying or vomiting.

  Daisy, a woman who enjoyed her gym and her protein bars far too much, poked her friend's red skin.

  “Owe, it hurts, damn it,” Cassidy hissed, waving off the buff woman.

  “And you say this guy just put his hands on you and new skin just appeared? You do know how fucked up that is?” Daisy asked.

  Cassidy had told her and everyone else who would listen to her story about what happened, except the press. She had been there at ground zero when those vultures descended upon her during her first days in the hospital.

  Naturally, her friends and her parents had been sceptical about these strange turn of events, even when they saw the evidence for themselves they thought that Cassidy had just been hopped up on morphine. Her mother had cried and called it a miracle before she ran outside to call her husband. Cassidy could just see her mother using this whole thing as an excuse to go out and buy her daughter wigs.

  Kim rubbed her head. She was currently in her anime phase, meaning that she had pink hair and whenever possible she would dress up in plastic armour and carry a big foam sword. Right now she was in a Sailor Moon t-shirt which showed off her navel, it wasn't the type of thing you wore to a hospital.

  “I still can't believe that you agreed to become this person’s assistant. What were you thinking?” Kim said.

  “I was thinking that I would like my epidermis back,” Cassidy growled. She pointed at Daisy, “She couldn't look at me without crying.”

  “I'm really...” Daisy tried to say but was cut off.

  “I know, I know,” Cassidy sighed. She couldn't fault her friends for not being there holding her hand every second of the day.

  Her body itching all over, Cassidy grumbled to herself. The fucking doctors had poked and prodded her ever since David had healed her face. The leeches had literally taken blood and ran her through an obstacle course of tests to discover what it was that David had done. Of course, they did this for their own curiosity, not caring that it was their patient who got the bill.

  “I just wish you had thought this though,” Kim said, “he could be a criminal, Cass. You could end up in jail.”

  Cassidy gestured to the hospital bed, “And this is better?” she slumped back. “I know I've probably fucked myself over, Kimmy. It's just. Listen, Dick said that David's up and he's coming here to finish fixing me up. He's got Kent running around swapping gold for cash...”

  “I don’t get that either is he a smuggler?” Kim asked.

  “That would be cool,” Daisy said. “That’s much more exciting than a lawyer. Cassidy the Gold Smuggler. You picture boats and pirates, don't you? You can get a gold tooth.”

  “I picture a federal prison.”

  “And you didn't see the little ninja he had walking around with him.” Cassidy said. She rubbed the spot that little psycho, Judith, pressed those hard stakes into her neck.

  “He had a ninja with him?” Daisy asked, intrigued by the possibility of seeing a real ninja.

  Cassidy's phone rang, “Oh, God. What is it now?” she picked it up, grateful that she no longer needed a nurse to answer it for her.

  The sound of David's voice came through, “Cassidy, it's David. Are there any doctors in there?”

  “How did you get my number?” Cassidy didn't remember giving it to the annoying prick; then again her phone had been just sitting there in the charger right next to her. It wouldn't be difficult for somebody to just sneak over when she was a
sleep and pinch it.

  “Where are you?” Cassidy asked harshly,

  “Who is that?” Kim asked seeing her friend's face shift to suspicion.

  The group barely noticed the man in the lab coat pushing the small child around in a stolen wheelchair, “How's it going Cassidy?” David asked. He pushed Judith over to his previous bed and put his television on the children's channel, sure that a cartoon about building blocks would be a better father figure than he was.

  With a flourish, he pulled out a stack of papers from his pocket dimension and placed them on Cassidy's lap. “Right, you would not believe the hoops that I went through to get this. It took me like two hours to get it legalised.”

  “Two hours?” Cassidy looked through the paperwork, “It took you two hours to get a worker contract legalised?”

  “No, it took me two hours make a business. It took one and a half hours to get a lawyer to speed read through all of that and make it legal.”

  Despite being only a student, Cassidy could make out much of the legalese. It looked as if David had used several templates and had modified several paragraphs illustrating what Cassidy's roles were. It was a basic start-up company agreement.

  She shook her head, “David, this isn't legal.”

  “Oh, but it is. My new lawyer says it is. Her name is Debra Ltch. She's a partner over in Ltch and Hobat associates.”

  Cassidy didn't need to work hard to remember the place that her new employer was referring to. Ltch and Hobat was a legal firm dedicated to business law, mostly working for small and medium businesses. It was the type of firm that Cassidy would have sold her soul to work at, which coincidentally is the first step in getting hired by them.

  “How the hell did they let you meet Debra Ltch?” Cassidy asked.

  “Debra is a seventy year old woman who was diagnosed with dementia five years ago and lives in a nursing home. Five minutes, that's all I needed to fix her and for her to owe me big time.”

  Cassidy was shocked, “Dementia? You can fix that?”