The Cabin Is Always Hungry - Arc 3 | Hells Grace (8)

HELLS GRACE

Part 8

I stared at the System’s open interface in front of me and began to laugh. After my conversation with an alien (let’s face it, he was), it dawned on me that I am forever fucked. Fucked!

My laughter echoed across the cabin in a low shudder through the wood, stone, and foundation. It crawled into the dirt with a vibrating ghostly essence that, for a moment, I thought real people might have heard me. I couldn’t help it, bubbling up my throat like bile.

I got a fucking job–An afterlife job. Being a Dungeon Lord was just another bloodsucking dead end when I was alive. Only this time, I couldn’t quit to find a “better opportunity.” This job was for life, and quitting meant death. I didn’t think dungeons could grow old, but Elvis didn’t say anything that I would. The lifespan of a dungeon could be decades, maybe even centuries! The thought that I could watch Earth pass through time was frightening and hilarious. Me? An (almost) immortal being? I never imagined it would be this way. I would outlive every person in existence right at this moment.

If Elvis doesn’t eat me first.

“What is the matter, my liege?” the demon asked, concerned.

“What? Oh. Nothing. Um, I just found something funny.”

The demon raised her eyebrow, curious.

I shook my head. “Don’t overthink it.”

She glanced over to Goliath, still confused, but the big man merely gave her a slight, nonchalant shrug with his broad shoulders and sat comfortably on the library’s sofa. Fortunately, the demon let the topic slide before she monitored the other cultists’ activities through Oracle.

“So…what do you guys think about Elvis?”

The demon was quick with her response. “He cannot be trusted.”

Goliath merely nodded in agreement, leaned back on the sofa, and closed his eyes. Is he sleeping? “I wasn’t going to anyway,” I said, ignoring the giant.

“And he is not a friend, no matter how he presents himself. He possesses a golden tongue that most demons would envy. Nigh a devil would treat him equal if given the chance.”

“Can’t be friends with a guy who sometimes sees me as food.”

“Another point into why you should keep him at a distance, my lord. But…” the demon scratched her chin. “Such creature can be useful.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”

The demon nodded. “Right.”

“How are we with the Hodges?” I pointed at Oracle’s screen.

“The Hodges are almost to their destination.”

Wonderful. “Finally. Some good news.”

“It is a thirty-story skyscraper in the middle of the city—an office building. Property records said it was built back in the sixties. The Havashar Society owns it.”

Havash–what? “Who are they?”

“They are a security firm, my liege, with many hands into IT security services, weapon sales, private equities, and—would you look at that? Hired muscle. Mostly international. They even own a large share of the Portland Natural Museum with a quarter of its collection technically on lease from their own vault.”

Mercenaries. “So… they’re rich, rich.”

“It would seem so. They’ve had contracts with the government on multiple occasions dating back since 1976.”

“What kind of contracts?”

“Weapons subsidies. They are a massive contributor to the Gulf War and the War On Drugs. They have many international assets that spur the engine of Wrath and satiate Despair.” The demon smiled at that. I learned that demons were always a fan of violence, no matter how grand or small.

“Ah. War criminals.”

“You needn’t throw far with your accusations, my liege. The Havashar Society has accumulated countless ethics investigations from federal and private parties for their dubious activities in volatile areas worldwide. They’re only buried by greed.”

“Paid off?”

“Yes.”

“Typical.” I glanced over her shoulder. It looks like the Hodges still have a few minutes to go. “In that case, let’s go over what Elvis gave us.”

“Have you thought about who will gain the gift he made?”

I paused. “I haven’t. Yet. And I wouldn’t call it a gift.” Looking around, Goliath and the demon wanted an upgrade on their traits. Even Oracle wanted it. As a Dungeon Lord, I have a sliver of a connection to each monster I created, and I could sense Oracle’s curiosity to expand his reach across the continent. A big slice of Oregon was not enough. And besides, calling these things a gift made me feel like I owe Elvis something.

I didn’t like that.

I opened the System’s interface again. More and more, I understood the routines of my new existence. Though my core desires bite like pesky fleas on my back, constantly reminding me of the hunger, I probed about the scenarios and what I could do with them.

As Elvis said, a scenario would automatically open up when a delver passed through my borders. Still, I could also plan a scenario days away (weeks or months, as the System showed me) if I had specific delvers in mind, mainly the cultists (or, theoretically, people I have lured into the dungeon). I had been doing that without knowing it. I could even delay the scenario from kicking (and killing) when the delvers enter my borders for up to a hundred days, but after that, the System will force a scenario to start if anyone were unlucky enough to stay inside that long.

Scenarios worked in three parts:

Set the scene.

Lure the players.

Run the scenario.

It was simple, but in practice, it was a lot more complex.

Setting the scene required a three hundred crystal drop of getting rid of the bodies of Yasmine, Tara, and Steven and scrubbing their tracks that they had been in the area (including their digital footprint thanks to Oracle—again, for a price). Three hundred of my resources to bring back the broken traps in working order and reset other environmental effects I had used up. Then, I had to make up for the damages across the cabin and make it look like a massacre did not occur within its walls thirty-five minutes ago. More crystals and resources were drained to ensure the cultists were well on their way to my cabin. To ensure that the dungeon would run smoothly once the scenario kicked into high gear.

Setting the scene required homework, strategy, and chores (which Oracle had been most helpful about studying the incoming delvers), especially when I needed this scenario to be the most deadly dungeon I had ever run. My monsters must even study the delver’s weaknesses, desires, and fears to perform at their peak.

But luring them varied in difficulty. I ordered the demon to send the texts I had planned for Deputy Rebecca Torres and the others to receive but kept the Hodges in the dark. A staged picture of a bound and unconscious Maxine was sent from Alvin’s phone, asking the others to meet him in the cabin to discuss what they should do next.

Fortunately, the demon could mimic voices, and I made sure it was an audio text with Alvin’s voice loud and clear. That should entice them that it was real. I specifically sent out a message saying that Maxine had hidden the gemstone somewhere on the property, and Alvin needed help to find it (as well as getting rid of Maxine’s body if they ever decide to kill her).

So far, none took the bait, though they were tempted. Kirk wanted to go and get this over with. “Cut the bitch if we have to.” Those were his words during his two-minute call with Rebecca.

But of course, he wanted to go and kill her. I already threatened him with all those sickening videos he stored in his laptop’s hard drive (Technically, ” Maxine ” threatened to reveal it).

The girls remained adamant that they should wait for Coach Hodge to return.

Watching them run around like headless chickens through Oracle’s cameras and arguing in circles about what to do was both frustrating and made me want to jump off a fucking cliff. I guessed many people were like that; a bunch of indecisive morons who could not get out of a paper bag to save their life. I wanted them to do one thing, but they refused to budge because of prickly little stuff like fear, ignorance, and pride. What a load of horseshit. Granted, if I were human again and smelled something wrong, I would probably do the same thing and ignore it, hoping it would disappear and never bother me again. Humans loved ignoring problems until they popped out like a fucking jump-scare in a cheesy horror movie.

I just needed the right button to push.

But once they were inside my borders, I had to pass the gauntlet to my traps and monsters and rely on them to finish the job. But this was a unique scenario. Fortunately, the administrators (I’ll address Elvis’s people as that to make it less complicated for me) had given me a carte blanche of Rule Two, which made it easier not to worry about accidentally playing favorites. I did not want to trifle with the consequences if I broke them. I wouldn’t have that problem since I’m dealing with the cult. Luckily, I had no love for any of them. Murder away.

I looked over the gem’s ability options on the screen. Elvis had given me one extra ability slot for my core, and though my options looked like a spreadsheet that vomited a bunch of words and letters, I managed to find one that I liked. [Telekinesis] had done wonders to keep the delvers away from my gemstone. Though I rarely used [Mind Shock] for its incapacitating effects (and its single target only when summoned compared to the multi-purpose use of the other), I realized that I did not have enough defense for my body. [Heat Surge] protected me from being carried away, but I needed a backup if that failed.

It was an easy choice to pick [Resistance].

Resistance

You may choose to resist and halved the damage incurred upon your core, thereby hardening your barrier and preventing early expiration. For double the Power cost, you may grant a chosen archetype this ability for the same duration. They can choose to use the ability right away or wait within the next 24 hours. You may NOT bestow this ability to the same archetype twice in a 24-hour period.

(Costs 2 Power to self, 4 Power to archetypes) Duration: 10 minutes.

Though ten minutes might not be much, I imagined it would give my monsters enough time to get rid of my attackers or whoever wanted to steal and whisk me away from my dungeon. I was also interested in buffing up my monsters for an expensive 4 Power drain, almost halving my Power resources at the expense of only doing it once per day. Still, I had to follow the rules by giving the ability well in advance to Goliath or any of the others before a scenario started.

I might save it for the final boss fight; I laughed at the thought.

With another environmental slot for my dungeon, I brought back the one I used from the Yates Residence, which had done wonders in passively draining a delver’s resolve. While [Unnerving Fog] worked at a regional level, [Phantasmal Cold] was specific to certain areas like a bedroom or the cellar. Triggering such effects didn’t seem like the System considered it an active interference, acting like a passive effect that a delver could resist based on their constitution alone. There’s a possibility that they could shrug it off and run in the opposite direction.

I like to call it “getting the heebie-jeebies.”

Phantasmal Cold

The dungeon is unusually twenty degrees colder than the outside’s temperature, shedding a delver’s resolve overtime. Duration: 1 hour.

“Even the afterlife has stupid rules,” I chuckled. I still had no clue what to do once I was finished with the cultists. Maybe enjoy the scenery, more like it. After all, I got an incredible prime real estate with a beautiful view of the mountains and the lake…minus the pile of bodies. At least I didn’t have to pay taxes. What’s the percentage nowadays for a blood tax?

The demon pursed her lips. “Rules govern the universe, your grace, no matter how small. Even demons follow them.”

“It doesn’t look like you have some.”

“We most certainly do, not that you can understand. For one, we have a quota to meet.”

“What kind of quota?”

“Well, we need to drag a soul to Hell.”

It took me a moment to get it. “And by working for me, they’ll make you the employee of the month?”

The demon grinned. “When I get back downstairs—if I get back—I do hope my dear overseer appreciates the line of souls on the doombridge before the Drop with my name stamped on their searing flesh right before it boils over and over and over…”

“On average, how many souls does a demon drag?”

“One or two a year, if lucky. Some take months and years. But humans are already depraved enough to do the vilest things without a demon’s intervention. Those destined to do evil have their wings clipped before they think of the deed. Uninspired demons clamor to take credit for such things. I, on the other hand, do not cheapen myself to such mediocre bargains. It does not honor the Horned God and the River of Sorrows.”

I never heard the demon talk so passionately about her job. Sure, I witnessed how she put mind, body, and soul into torturing the delvers (sometimes with fervent zealotry), but hearing her speak like it’s the most sensible thing in the world was fascinating. She took her work more seriously than I realized.

“And besides, my lord, rules give mortals control.”

I titled my head. “How so?”

“Forgive me if my knowledge of dungeon lords is rudimentary at best, but from what I have witnessed over the centuries, your kind presents mortals with a sense of control over their short, pathetic lives. Gives them purpose. Gives them hope, pride, adventure, and despair. You offer them choices, you know. Choices that will either doom them or lead them to paths they never think they are capable of.”

“How exactly am I giving them choices? If I was, I am not seeing them.”

“It’s both large and small, my liege. Take Eddie, for example. He has the choice to leave the others behind in the cabin and save himself, which he did. He almost made it out, too, if not for me on the way. If he had the others, who knows? That might save his life. After all, it would be me against three. You may call his path the “wrong choice” because it led to his death. Or how about we take it back to Leo on the road? He was behind the wheel and could drive away to civilization or follow Eddie to the cabin. One choice will save his friends. One choice doomed them. You already know which ones they took.”

The demon gestured around the room. “You placed many choices in this cabin, my liege. Go to the front door or run out of the window? By going to the front door, they might get trapped by the rug. If they go out the window, they will reach the wood’s safety. Take Trail A or Trail B? Trail B leads to Goliath’s lair. Trail A leads to the mountains and, perhaps, to safety, but they must fight off Oldie first. Choices, choices. One after the other. Even other Dungeon Cores give their delvers similar games. And when they reach the end—if they reach the end—they have the greatest choice of all: the prize a Dungeon Lord bestows. To mortals in other worlds they desire it more than their lover. Cherished it more than their progeny. Dreamed of it more than their sanity. Even kings sacrificed their people and fractured their nations to harness a Core’s gift. For a Death Core, all covet your gifts, for it is limitless.”

“Is that why I have to treat them equally? I cannot interfere with their, what, control?”

“We demons follow the same rules. All archetypes do. We entice both sinner and saint. Both equally make the same choices and make the same…hard contemplation. You’d be surprised how many saints chose the dark path while sinners turned to the light. You present the choice with “the lure” and wait for their path to unravel. If it dooms them, let them burn. If it brings salvation, reward them. The System wills it, and we are but its glorious intermediary.”

“Glad the cultists don’t get to enjoy any of that. The System must want them dead.”

“Goliath, Oldie, and I are looking forward to it, my liege.” She turned to Oracle and laughed. “Ah. Yes. Siren and Oracle, too.”

I almost felt guilty for being too excited about the bloodbath. “Make me proud, then.”

Goliath opened his eyes and puffed up his chest, and the demon chuckled. “And we are prepared to face them, my liege!” She paused. “Have you thought about which one of us will gain an upgrade?”

I nodded. “I have. Demon, I think you should have it.”

The demon’s expression never faltered. “I…thank you, my liege. What gift will you honor me?”

“Take a look.”

Possession II

The monster possesses a delver’s mind and body, using all the host’s functions and abilities, while the host remains imprisoned inside. The monster has total concealment. (Resolve Requirement: 2)

Level II: The monster can now possess a total of three (3) delvers. Note that multiple possessions decreases a possessing archetype’s defenses and concealment, but increases their offensive capabilities. Upgrade to Level III to add another two (2) delvers under your archetype’s control.

I waited for the demon to finish reading her new stats. She regarded me again with a demure smile. “Thank you, my liege.”

“They may be our enemy, but I want to collect their essence. Only four of you are capable of fighting them head-on, and who knows how many the Hodges will bring once they call for help from wherever they’re going. I have a feeling it’s a large cell of their cult. It’s nice to have the numbers on our side as a contingency.”

“So far, the rest of the cult hesitates to come here, lord dungeon,” the demon said.

> I HAVE A SOLUTION, Oracle said.

“What is it, Oracle?”

> QUERY. PROFILES CREATED…

Four names popped up on the screen, along with their phone numbers, their occupation, social security, any criminal records, multiple social media accounts, and how far they were from the dungeon (even down to the last food they ate):

Chris Torres, Rebecca’s husband.

Clay Havert, Rebecca’s lover.

Zack Bird, Jenna’s ex-husband.

Danny Bird, Jenna’s son.

“The kid?” I asked. “You want me to bring a kid here? In the dungeon?”

“More delvers? How fun!” The demon said excitedly.

> HUMANS PROTECT THEIR YOUNG WITH TENACITY. JENNA BATTEN WILL BE PERSUADED TO ENTER THE DUNGEON WITH 98.1% ACCURACY.

“And the two percent?”

“THERE IS A 1.9% CHANCE THE OTHERS WILL INTERVENE ON HER BEHALF. AS FOR ZACK BIRD, THE MOTHER OF HIS ONLY CHILD IS STILL ROMANTICALLY INCLINED TO RECIPROCATE HIS FEELINGS EVEN WITH THE ESTRANGEMENT.

He was right. No matter how I wanted to argue about bringing a fucking child into a dangerous dungeon, luring the cultists with their loved ones was the oldest play in the book. And I’ve seen plenty of bad guys use the same tactics to lure the heroes. I would have Jenna Batten within my borders within the hour. Nothing could beat a mother’s love.

“We don’t have any evidence that the others are even part of the cult,” I said.

“All avenues we have taken have failed, my lord,” the demon said. “These people will seal their fate and bind them to us. Whether Kirk liked it or not, he had no choice but to come to the dungeon and bury his sins. The two women will go with him.”

“Well, can’t Oracle fake it? Make it seem like the messages are coming from them?”

> HAVING THESE HUMANS IN THE DUNGEON WILL REDUCE THE SURVIVABILITY OF THE CULTISTS BY SIX PERCENT.

Shit. The old classic trope of saving the loved one more than yourself. That was a hell of a choice for Rebecca to make. Save her husband or the man she was cheating with? I imagined her Resolve would plummet dramatically once I presented that to her. As for Jenna Batten? My mind swam with ideas about using her child to betray the cult. Maybe I’d save her for last.

Tempting.. Very tempting.

“System, if these people enter my dungeon, will they automatically become delvers?”

[ They meet the criteria. The System recognizes them as candidates. ] The tiny prompt materialized at the same spot on my periphery. [ The three potential candidates will become delvers once they walk beyond the threshold. ]

“Three? I see four.”

[ Candidate Danny Bird is only recognized as a delver once he comes of age at fifteen. ]

“So, children aren’t allowed in the dungeons? What, they’re automatically kicked out or something?”

[ Youths may still enter permitted areas the core allows. ]

Huh. I had no idea there was a fucking setting for that. “But what will happen to him once he does? Once he enters the areas I restricted?”

[ The System will gentle him until the scenario concludes. ]

“Gentle him? What do you mean?”

However, the System did not reply. “Demon, do you know about this?” I said, turning to her.

Surprisingly, the demon shook her head. “I’m afraid not, my liege. In worlds where I’ve watched countless dungeon runs, they never allowed younglings into their borders, so I have never seen a…gentling. This will be a first. However, I bore witness to many rites of passage from delvers of many different worlds who have come of age. They have ceremonies, sure, but not as exciting as when sapling demons drew first blood. It is electrifying.”

I stared at the names on the screen for a long moment. Should I lead these people here? If I did, they might not survive. Bringing them here would also divide the attention of the cultists. But another thought wiggled its way from the back of my skull, slowly moving forward to invade all my senses.

More delvers, more essence. Right?

And what better way to feed the bottomless pit in my stomach than to pile the bodies as high as the heavens?

More.

Yes.

I needed more.

More.

Melanie and Coach Hodge craned their necks up and glimpsed the highest floors of the tall building across the street, hesitating to step through the rotating entrance doors. I watched them from the CCTV camera fixed right above the entryway while Oracle switched on their phone’s audio so I could listen to their conversation. Fortunately, the building had multiple cameras scattered across every floor, but curiously sparse on the upper ones.

“Are you sure about this, Justin?” Melanie asked, her voice shaking a little. Gone was the assuring voice I heard from the drive. She was afraid. “I don’t trust them.”

“We have no choice, Mel.”

“We do. We can just—”

“What? Run away? Go to Canada? Spain? We built a good life here, Mel. I won’t throw away fifteen good years because of a two-faced bitch. The Society needs to learn that she betrayed her oath and cannibalized members of her sect. I will not tuck my tail between my legs because she dared to challenge my authority. You know her ambitions when we welcomed her into our circle. She’s always been determined to take my place for herself and that damned cheating husband of hers.”

“And what happens if the Society puts all the blame on you? Have you learned nothing? Show weakness, and they will cut your strings.”

“They won’t.”

“You don’t know that—”

“They won’t. Now, let’s go. We’ve kept him waiting long enough.”

Coach Hodge marched into the building. Melanie followed after him, not looking too happy.

The lobby was empty at this time of day. Most of the seven (moderately good performing) companies leased office spaces throughout the thirty floors, open only on weekdays. Given it was a Sunday, the building was mostly empty. Two security guards greeted the Hodges with familiarity. They had been here quite a few times for him to recognize their faces. The Hodges spoke very little to him and went straight to the elevator, pressing the 29th floor. On the property records Oracle pulled up, the Havashar Society had taken up the top ten floors of the building.

Unfortunately, there were only a few cameras on the 29th floor except for my view of the hallway (next to the elevator) and inside the elevator itself. A tall brunette woman with a slick black dress suit, her hair tied into a loose bun, waited outside the door when it opened.

The woman (who I assumed was the secretary) plastered a wide smile. “Mr. Hodge. Mrs. Hodge. It is good to see you two again. How was your drive?”

Hodge nodded along. “Good, good. Very nice to see you, too, Allie. Is he—?”

“He is in his office.”

“Do we have to wait, or—“

“No, no, Mr. Hodge. He’s been expecting the two of you since you called. Come. Follow me.”

I ordered Oracle to pull up a blueprint of the 29th floor. There were only six office spaces throughout the entire level, with the largest one by the southwest side, an excellent view of the Columbia River and the city center, and a sprawling balcony (with a small garden) next to it. I lost sight of them for less than a minute before they turned up on the other side of the building, walking quietly toward the large double oak doors (leading to the most prominent office I mentioned). Coach Hodge and his wife were getting nervous with each step they took. I caught Melanie gently grabbed Coach Hodge’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze. The secretary opened the door and let them in.

“Oracle, find me something—anything—in that office I can see through.”

> THERE ARE NO CAMERAS INSIDE THE ROOM.

Crap. “Do we still get audio?”

> YES.

I looked at the blueprint again and studied the balcony. Could it be…? “Oracle, find me a drone nearby.”

> SEARCHING…

> SEARCHING…

> FOUND.