The Butcher's Masquerade (Dungeon Crawler Carl, #5)

by Matt Dinniman

“You’re not my person anymore,” Donut added. “Carl is. He’s always been.”

“Scutelliphily is a compound Latin and Greek word,” Britney said. “Scutellus is Latin, and it means ‘small shield.’ Phileein is a common Greek suffix that means ‘the love of.’ Or something similar. So it means the love of small shields. I guess that means you love little patches.

The inside was some standard dive bar filled with flags and framed jerseys and signs for the Ottawa Senators NHL hockey team. The center of the bar was dominated with a massive, autographed picture of some player named Daniel Alfredsson.

Trauma does that, I thought. It’s an explosion with your heart at the center. It changes everything all at once.

‘My son, the masks we wear are the smiles upon our faces and the goodwill we present to each other this evening. There will be no violence. No maneuvering. Just an evening of feats and friendly contests and tales of past conquests.

The velociraptor moonwalked back across the platform. He goddamn moonwalked. As he passed Donut, she popped her sunglasses onto her face. Both bopped their heads to the music. Next to me, Elle mouthed, “Holy shit.” Even some of the hunters ended up clapping.

Sledge: I have controller... I can crash Twister into other turrets... Bombs still dangle... Like helicopter in game GTA.... I think I can get both. Louis: THE HELL YOU ARE. Sledge: I crash like in GTA. Louis: DON’T CRASH THE TWISTER!