Carl's Doomsday Scenario (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #2)

by Matt Dinniman

I grinned. “I guess it’s a good thing we now have a group member who knows what he’s doing.” Mordecai narrowed his eyes at me as I scrolled down and picked Compensated Anarchist as my class.

Donut ended up with the following: Strength: 20 Intelligence: 23 + 5 (Tiara) +1 (Charm) = 29 Constitution: 4 + 2 (Brush) = 6 Dexterity: 12 + 2 (Crupper) +2 (Bracelet) +5 (temp. floor bonus) = 21 Charisma: 70

“I’d like to present Dungeon Crawler Carl, the Level 13 Compensated Anarchist Primal. Welcome, Carl, to the third floor.”

“What is a cat girl?” Donut asked. “I don’t like that. And a were-cat? Whoever that is needs to just learn to commit.”

Donut’s spells currently were Heal – Level 1 (Max) Torch – Level 10 Magic Missile – Level 9 Puddle Jumper – Level 3 Second Chance – Level 5 Heal Critter – Level 1 Clockwork Triplicate – Level 1

“Now go rent a room and get some sleep,” he eventually said as he handed back the pile of potions. He’d been showing us how to combine certain potions to make them more potent and work more quickly. “I want you two up early. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.” “What’re we doing?” Donut asked. “Oh, it’s going to be amazing,” Mordecai said. “It’s going to be a day for the history books. It’ll be the first time you two do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Why do you got to get killed? You ain’t so little as mice. I didn’t bounce you hard.

Cries

Signet took a step back. “Okay, Carl. She’s going to wake up, and I will cast my summoning spell. Then you go kill her.” Admin Note: Boss Battles that arise concurrently with secondary productions or as parts of a Quest may present themselves differently. You will still receive awards commensurate with the boss’s proper rank. If you survive, of course. “Oh fuck,” I said.

Somewhere in there, deep, deep down, there is a spark of the old Heather. The beloved bear has moments of lucidity as she runs down her terrified prey. In those brief moments, she thinks: Good. I’ve always hated all you assholes, anyway.

Now, if you’ve never had a flaming, skull-faced bear on roller skates barreling at you full speed, you don’t know what you’re missing.

Winner! Appeared in my interface. That was the only indication I’d just finished a boss battle. A few achievements came and went into the folder. I’d gone up to level 15. I was pushing 16 already. Donut was going to be pissed.

Mordecai: Congrats. You just won your first solo boss battle.

Guaranteed good time or your money back! Something told me I wasn’t going to be having a good time.

Carl: That’s terrifying, Zev. Okay, they’re about to be pissed off. If they ask, tell them I know what I’m doing. Zev: Do you? Carl: Fuck no. I’m making this shit up as I go along.

Mordecai: Carl. Donut’s health just dropped below 20%. Go. Go now.

Mongo soon started to snore. I could feel Donut’s warmth against the back of my neck. She breathed softly, oblivious of all that had occurred tonight. This, I thought, this is my family.

I paused before going in. I spent the moment looking out at the world, marveling at the sights and sounds of this large town. Everything was happening so fast. I had a sudden, inexplicable feeling of longing wash over me. I wished this was all over. It doesn’t take much to make him happy, Bea had said to her mom. It was true. I wondered what level we had to get to before they’d allow us to settle in a town like this.

New Achievement! Yellow-Bellied Chickenshit! You initiated a boss battle, and it somehow ended with neither of you dead. What a disappointment you are. What a goddamned smear. Reward: Pussies don’t get prizes.

Enchanted BigBoi Boxers. This item has been Upgraded once. All right, you already know the description of this item. Something something Incredible Hulk, blah, blah, blah. Now you want to know how this item has been upgraded. Right? So here are the original benefits of these naughty little undies: + 2 to Constitution Wearer may cast a level 15 Protective Shell once every 30 hours. That’s some good shit right there. But we can do better than that. Here’s a few additional benefits. + 5 to Dexterity + 5 to Intelligence + 3 more (for a total of + 5) to Constitution + The Freeballing Benefit The benefit’s description was: Freeballing And I’m freeeeee! Freeee Ballling! Usually reserved for monk classes and those too soused to reliably dress themselves, recipients of this benefit receive an additional 100% damage bonus to all attacks that originate below the waist. In addition, all skills that originate from below the waist train 20% faster. But as the name implies, this benefit allows only a single layer of armor or clothing to cover your crotch area. And since you’re already wearing these, it looks like you won’t be getting trousers anytime soon. Mordecai was still laughing. “You shouldn’t have said you really wanted those pants.”

“Oh yeah,” Mordecai said. “So, you’re rich. Maybe.” 100,000 Gold Coin Casino Chip. This is a comp chip, and it may not be sold or transferred. You may not redeem this chip directly for gold. This chip must be played at the High Roller’s Roulette Table or the Wheel of Fortune game at the Desperado Club Casino. Good luck. “Roulette?” Bea always loved roulette. I would sometimes play blackjack, but I was one of those guys who got pissed off after I lost just a few bucks, and if I won, I would quit immediately. I wasn’t much of a gambler. “It’s not roulette like you know it. Go get some sleep. Tomorrow night I’ll take you both to the club and show you how that place works.” “Can you get in?” Donut asked. “Don’t you worry about that,” Mordecai said, grinning. “They know me there.”

The thing was a horse-sized, multi-breasted, pitch black goat monster that looked like it belonged on the cover of one of those 1980s heavy metal album covers, one where if you played it backward, the words would tell you to murder your grandma.

“I want to try one of Miss Beatrice’s favorite drinks. Either a Sex on the Beach or a Long Island Iced Tea. Or that one. What is it, Carl? She always says it’s her Kryptonite.” “A Dirty Shirley,” I said. “Yeah, I want to try that one.” “Cats don’t drink cocktails,” I said. “Cats don’t shoot lasers from their eyes, either, but here we are, Carl. Mama needs a night off.”

“Well, two cases of goblin dynamite and the last of the Hob-lobbers would be 1,500 gold,” Pustule said pleasantly. “I’m sorry if that price is too ugly for you.” “Oh sweetie,” Donut said. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Let’s start over.” “Yeah, okay,” Pustule said. “We wouldn’t want anybody getting off on any feet.” Donut gave me a sidelong glance. “Well, it might be a little late for that.

“I think I liked you better when you didn’t make so much sense,” I said. “I’ve always made sense, Carl,” Donut said.

I tossed the heavy bomb into the air and caught it. Everyone in the room, even Mongo, looked at me with a horrified expression. The item’s stability was still at 150. I could punt the item, and it wouldn’t go off. Besides, this was a safe room. Still, they were all looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I had a quick memory of a goblin bomb bard who’d been doing something similar as we’d passed by. I remembered thinking he was crazy at the time. I put the bomb away, smiling sheepishly. “I worry about you sometimes,” said Donut.

Even though I’d set up the cat tree on her insistence, Donut jumped straight onto my neck and settled in. “Goodnight, Carl,” she said. “Goodnight, Donut,” I said, patting her head.

“Don’t worry, Donut,” I said. “We’ll find out who’s responsible, and we’ll make them pay.” Thwump. Something hit the roof of the inn, directly over our heads. It slid off the rooftop and crashed loudly into the street. In the morning we’d discover the body of a naked, twisted human prostitute, sprawled out in the alley next to the inn. Scrawled onto her back in torn, bloodless flesh were the words, “No, you won’t.”

Carl’s Doomsday Scenario Type: Unstable custom explosive Effect: An explosion large enough to rattle the teeth of a god.