Discount Dan

I briefly considered pulling the Slammer of Shielding out of my pocket and hurling it at the floor, but I knew the spell wouldn’t activate before the thing was already inside the dome’s radius. Instead, I thrust my hammer forward and triggered Bleach Bolt. Mana rushed from my core and exploded outward from the blunt hammerhead as though it were a magic wand instead of a contractor’s work tool. The burning ball of blue magic hit the creature directly in the chest, splattering across its ribs and shoulders.

The corrosive power immediately went to work, eating holes through the Photophage’s thin skin. A stat plate appeared, showing the monster’s Health and Mana: HP 28/34, MP 42/65. My Bleach Bolt attack was more powerful than ever, yet the Photophage’s bright red Health bar had barely dipped. Clearly, this thing had some sort of Mana or magical resistance. Instead of unleashing another seething ball of corrosive magic, I aimed my hammer at the floor and activated Slippery When Wet, which cost me another five Mana.

A thin, glimmering sheen of water abruptly stretched across the already slick linoleum floor, separating me from the Photophage.

The creature’s foot came down on the surface and its ghastly black eyes widened comically as it lost its balance and careened toward me, arms windmilling wildly as it tried to find purchase.

As the gangly shithead careened toward me, I channeled a thread of raw Mana into my hammer and it swelled in size, burning with ethereal cobalt light. Before the monster could gain its balance, I swung the hammer in a wicked arc and triggered Force Multiplier at the last second.

The hammerhead—now easily twice the size of my fist—collided with the incoming Photophage with a sickening, bone-crunching thud. My Stamina dropped by half, but it was worth it. The blow caved the skeletal kid’s head in like an overripe melon and it dropped to the floor, though the sheer momentum of my swing sent the monster’s body skidding backward across the water-slick floor. The nasty little SOB wouldn’t be getting up ever again.

Its Health bar had zeroed out, but I stared at it for a few seconds longer anyway. Just to be sure. Once I was certain it was dead, I cut off the slow but steady trickle of Mana to my hammer and turned toward the rest of the darkened store.

For killing the Photophage, I earned 375 Experience and a new achievement, Hammer Time, which came with three Copper Delver Loot Tokens and a single Silver Weaponmaster Loot Token. I didn’t bother to read over the achievement description—I had better shit to do. Like trying to figure out how to not die.

More fires raged. In the dancing orange light, I caught sight of Croc doing battle against a squat figure with gray skin, clad in a tattered white lab cloak.

Dweller 0.395B – Pharmacy Tech (Blighted) [Level 5]

The creature had the molted head of a raven, though its beady black eyes were protected behind a set of clear plastic safety goggles. Strange growths—like gnarled, pulsing tumors—protruded from its arms and legs, and another jutted up from its back. It wore a glove on one hand with scalpel blades jutting out from the tips of each finger like a surgical version of Freddy Krueger. In the other hand, it carried what looked like a Molotov cocktail, except it was made from a glass Erlenmeyer flask.

A short description popped up above the hunched creature, who had a clear penchant for pyromania.

Overworked, underpaid, and sorely unappreciated, Pharmacy Techs are only one bad customer interaction away from burning the whole world down. On top of everything else, the excruciating, cancerous Blight growths riddling their bodies probably don’t help curb their latent homicidal rage. Wielding scalpels, used syringes, and science-based firebombs, underestimate these insane fuckers at your own risk and just pray you don’t run across their boss…

If there were more of these things skulking around in the aisles, that would certainly explain the sudden outbreak of fires.

The Tech slashed at Croc with its scalped fingers, slicing through thick folds of blue rubber. Golden ichor splashed across the white floor.

“Hey, buddy, that wasn’t very nice at all,” Croc said, sounding only a little perturbed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to turn your insides into your outsides.”

The mimic dog reared back onto two legs and swelled in size until it stood as large as a brown bear. Then, Croc’s belly split open from throat to crotch, revealing an enormous, fanged mouth with several lashing tentacle tongues within. Those tentacles struck like angry vipers, latching onto the Tech, wrapping around its arms, legs, and throat. The Dweller struggled fruitlessly against the mimic, but it was only a level 5 and Croc far outclassed it. With a heave, the tentacles reeled the Tech into the gaping stomach mouth.

Croc’s torso jaws snapped closed with a meaty crunch and a spurt of rancid black blood. The streak of black gore across the floor was all that remained of the Tech.

Croc dropped to all fours, shrinking back to the size of a lab, and rounded on me. There was a mixture of fear and despair in its googly eyes.

“Dan, I am so, so sorry you had to see me like that.” Croc’s voice was reproachful, sorrowful even, as though the dog had somehow betrayed my deepest trust. “I hope we can still be friends and that you don’t think any less of me. I swear, I’m a good boy, Dan. A very good boy. Remember, F is for Friend.”

I was quiet for a beat, and the crackling snap and pop from the fire seemed deafening.

“Are you kidding me?” I replied, completely deadpan. Croc wilted even more as though I’d just kicked him in the ribs. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole fuckin’ life!” I crowed. “I mean, was it horrifying? Sure. But you’re on my team. If anything, I respect and value you even more than I did before!”

Croc looked up hopefully. “You mean it? You’re not mad at me? You’re not going to abandon me like Jackson did? Or Angela before him?”

“Abandon you?” I scoffed. “Are you high? Of course I’m not going to abandon you. Honestly, I’m kinda pissed you waited so long to do whatever in the hell that was.” I waved a hand toward the aisles. “Go do it more. Just be careful, and if you get in a tight spot, call for help!”

Croc brightened visibly.

“Yay!” Croc cheered. “Let’s go crush our enemies and consume their corpses in preparation for our own dark ascension.”

“Yeah, something like that.” I watched as Croc took to two legs once again, this time looking far less like a dog and more like a grizzly bear wearing a Venom suit. The mimic stormed down a seasonal aisle filled with squirt guns, swimming trunks, and pool supplies, each step shaking items from the shelves as the monster passed.

I just shook my head and moved in another direction.

I’d half expected the Photophage to be the Store Manager, but killing the creature had been too easy, and it had only been at level 7. I was looking for something level 10 or above, and after reading over the brief Codex description for the Pharmacy Tech, I had a sneaking suspicion that I was looking for their direct supervisor. I ran down a few aisles until I spotted what I was looking for all the way in the back of the store, tucked away in a corner.

The pharmacy.

That’s where we needed to go.

I reached inward toward my Spatial Core and triggered one of my other new abilities—Mall Ninja’s Strike. My Mana dropped, but I’d already regained some of my power from my earlier scuffle with the Photophage thanks to my increased Mana Regeneration Rate. Darkness lay thick around me and there were shadows everywhere, so there really was no better place to try out this technique. Fingers of inky gloom reached for me, and power rushed out from my body.

As tendrils of shade spooled around my body, the color faded from my clothes and my skin, until I was little more than a dark, hazy blur. I wasn’t invisible, but rather I looked like a living, moving shadow in the shape of a man. A secondary aura hung around me like a cloak, helping to mask my presence from those with a low Perception score. Covered by the pervasive Mall Ninja’s Veil, I stole along the snack-food aisle, moving silently as I scanned for more enemy Techs or any traps that might be waiting for any unsuspecting Delvers.

It didn’t take long before I found both.

There were runic pressure plates scattered all over the place at random intervals, and though I wasn’t sure what they did, I knew it couldn’t be anything good. There were also a variety of invisible trip-wire sigils strung across each aisle at various heights—some at chest level, others low enough to catch an ankle. They weren’t traditional trip wires, made from metal or string, but rather invisible cords of shadow magic that ran between two connected sigil sensors. When the signal was broken, the trap would activate.

I pulled a teddy bear from a nearby shelf and tossed it across the beam.

A silver light flashed, cleanly slicing the bear in half; white stuffing spilled out onto the floor as the two halves landed. That was answer enough. Thankfully, the traps were easy enough to avoid, since they glowed a dull red in my vision, passively alerting me to their presence. I sidestepped or ducked beneath them, though I was worried that Croc wouldn’t have as much luck. The mimic dog was made of stern stuff, however, so I had confidence that he’d make it through in one piece.

And if not, I was positive that he’d just be able to gobble up any pieces he lost and be good as new in no time.

Getting past the disgruntled Pharmacy Techs wasn’t quite so easy.

I was guessing there were only about seven or eight of them in total, but they moved fast and tended to lob their deadly firebombs from a distance then scamper away. Croc was doing an admirable job of drawing their attention, but even with my shadowy veil in place and the distraction of a giant blue dog-bear thing with an enormous mouth splitting its torso, their Perception was unfortunately high. Too high to simply sneak past them. I tried that once and ended up with a trio of scalpel razors to the calf.

Once I finished clearing this place out, I fully intended to find some better gear. Maybe a suit of medieval plate armor or—barring that—police riot gear. I could wear my personal effects beneath.

Honestly, at this point, I’d settle for hockey pads…