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

by Matt Dinniman

Also known as the Gigachad of the Over City, Incubi are the male counterparts of the infamous Succubus. The smooth, seductive, and ultimately deadly Incubus can be identified by his stunning good looks, exquisite charm, and sensuous feet. They can only be found on the urban levels of the dungeon. They give new meaning to the phrase, “hit it and quit it.”

I said a silent thank you to the game gods that they hadn’t named the roller derby one “Derby Queen.”

“Harmonica? How would that even work?” I said. “You don’t have thumbs.” “You don’t need thumbs for the harmonica, Carl. Not if I get one of those neck thingies.”

“Huh, that’s odd,” Mordecai said. “I’ve never seen the system recommend the existing race before.” “The AI loves Carl’s tootsies,” Donut said.

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

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

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

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.

It’s funny how that happens sometimes. We associate smells with memories, and when that memory is triggered, we are momentarily pulled away, no matter the current circumstances.

Turns two of your incisors into ripping, tearing, deadly chompers that would impress even the most self-hating goth.

“Oh this is delicious. Positively delicious!” Donut said. “Don’t worry, Carl. Maybe the next box will contain leather chaps. You can still wear those. Those would really frame out your feet.” She looked up at the ceiling. “Can you imagine how sexy Carl would be in chaps?” “Goddamnit, Donut,” I said.

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.

Coconut. 21 Gold. This is food. I think. Humans do something with it. Dunno, really.

“I knew we’d be selling everything on this floor, so I picked that merchant class. Miss Beatrice didn’t call me Princess Money Bags for nothing.” “I’m pretty sure it was ‘Princess Money Pit.’ She called you that because we spent more on you than we did for our rent.” “Well, obviously that investment paid off, didn’t it Carl?”

“Adventurer,” she said. She wiped her hand on her shirt. It left a smear of brown. “I was hoping to catch you on your return today. I spied your party leaving this morning.” “And you thought to greet us with a mountain of rotting prostitutes?” Donut asked. “I’m not sure where you’re from, but the cultured amongst us no longer use corpses as icebreakers. Next time maybe just bring Carl a milkshake. He likes milkshakes.”

“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.”

He had an unexpectedly deep and growly voice, like he was a British street kid trying too hard to sound like Batman.

“You’ve taken like two licks of that drink, and you’re drunk already?” I asked, examining her properties. “I didn’t like it. I just ate the cherries. Vodka is gross.” She reached down and lapped up some more of the drink. “I am absolutely not drinking this bile.” She took yet another sip.

“Those dogs sound just awful,” Donut said, her voice slurring. “Bitch-ass rottweilers. Almost as bad as cocker spaniels. Think they’re so smart.”

“Carl, the back of your cloak looks as if it was used as a sanitary napkin. You need to get cleaned.”

“Ferdinand is the love of my life. But we’ve had a tragic courtship. He visited me often at night. We’d gaze upon each other across the wide expanse, and we both knew it was a love that couldn’t be. For we were star-crossed lovers, and he was hunted by the authorities. In royal circles, he was reviled, branded as a ‘Moggie,’ a non-pedigreed cat. It is why I’d jumped out the window that night. I could sense him out there, calling to me.” “Wait,” I said. “Are you talking about that creepy yellow cat that would come to the window when you were in heat?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “His name wasn’t Ferdinand. His name was Gravy Boat. He belonged to Marjory on the first floor.”

Besides, I’m a nobody. It’s not like I have the power to change anything.

“Maybe we should have tested them first,” she said. “That’s what they’re gonna put on my tombstone.”

“Don’t be silly, Carl. They don’t give us tombstones here.”

“Mongo, gross,” I said. “Stop eating stuff you find on the ground.” The raptor made a face, as if the salamander had tasted foul. He made a retching noise. “That’s what you get,” I said.

I blinked a few times, trying to wrap my mind around it. She clearly wasn’t human. And what the hell was a Monster Truck Driver class?

Before Mordecai helped me with my ears, it said my race was ‘What the f-word?’ so we are making progress.”

New achievement! CockBlock! You have assassinated an NPC whose existence was required to complete another crawler’s quest. (NPC Killed: Miss Quill – Skyfowl. Level 30.) Who was that other crawler? What was the quest? Who fucking cares? You get the reward they were promised!

“Someone needs to teach him about muted colors. He looks like someone took Jack’s hat and made an overenthusiastic furry costume out of it.”

He looked like a rejected character from Thundercats.

Donut grunted. “I know what I would do. I would write TV shows. Zev and I are going to start a television show writing team when we get out of here. We’re going to remake Gossip Girl but with an intergalactic slant.”

“You promised me that I wouldn’t die alone,” she said. “You can’t keep that promise if you die before me. We do this together.”

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