Discount Dan

“There’s no way we can trust her,” I said, staring at the handful of items laid out on my private hotel room table: A Rare-grade Relic called ESP Amplifier, a pair of odd Artifacts, a truly impressive Sigil Stone, and a spherical iron ball covered in strange glyphs.

“Obviously,” Jakob confirmed with a nod, “but that doesn’t mean you should avoid these gifts either. ‘Einem geschenkten gaul schaut man nicht ins maul.’ One should not look into the mouth of a free horse.”

He reached out and picked up one of the artifacts, turning it over in his hands. It looked like a cheap golden crown with fake gems set into the hard plastic. But there was nowhere in the world where ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ was more applicable than the Backrooms.

Especially where Artifacts were concerned.

The Crown of the Burger Baron was a Fabled-grade Artifact with a shitload of awesome abilities. It boosted Grit, scaled with Variant Assimilation Level, and had a passive effect called Mental Fortress, which granted partial immunity against Charm-like spells, and increased resistance against psychic damage.

I’d never seen a more powerful Artifact and the Director had just… given it to me.

“Her motives are clearly suspect,” Jakob added after a moment, “and it is possible she is setting you up. Setting all of us up…” he faltered for a moment. “Still, these items are powerful.” He frowned and carefully set the crown back on the table. “Regardless of their origin, you would be foolish not to use them.”

“I think we can all agree on that,” Temperance said. “Dan’s not stupid. There was never any question about whether he was going to use them. The real question is what do we do about this?” She picked up the metal sphere and channeled a thread of raw mana into a small divot at the bottom of the object. The sigils zigzagging across the face of the sphere ignited with white light and another hole on top of the orb spewed out a dazzling projection.

It was a map, though it didn’t look like any sort of map I’d ever seen before.

It floated above the odd sphere, ten-thousand motes of light all tenuously connected by thin strands of energy. To me, it looked like one of those poured-cast molds of a termite colony. A mound of twisting, snaking branches burrowing through the air, connecting a vast colony of kiosks across hundreds of different floors. Each glimmering dot of light represented an individual kiosk, and the kiosks acted as entry and exit points to the broader kiosk network.

Using the network, anyone with the know-how could easily travel between kiosks. Including ones that were on different floors.

Some kiosks connected laterally, allowing a prospective traveler to move quicky throughout different quadrants on the same floor, while most connected to a neighboring floor. Some even skipped several floors all at once, just like the double-decker stairwells. The rarest of the bunch, however, were marked on the map with pulsing orange light. Those were spatial gateways and, much like my own doorway anchors, they defied the laws of space and time.

All a prospective Delver had to do was step through one and then they’d instantly step out of its paired gateway. And some of those spatial gateways traversed a truly astounding number of floors. If someone had a mind to, it was entirely possible to go from floor 25 to floor 225 in the span of an eyeblink.

I’d still have to get to level 25 first, but using the network made that immensely easier as well. The deepest the network penetrated was floor 305—which was still a helluva long way from the 999th floor—but it was easy to see the value of the kiosk network. Honestly, I was surprised more Delvers didn’t use this. The kiosks seemed to be more numerous than stairwells, but the tradeoff was that they were almost all guarded by Dwellers of one sort or another. Getting past them could be a tricky business, as I’d learned firsthand with the behemoth kiosk crab.

There was a trick it, however. One laid out for us in a detailed note the Director had left behind along with the various items.

Turned out, the Dwellers inhabiting the kiosks were all oath bound to the Franchisor.

They did its bidding.

Well, maybe did its bidding, was a bit of an overstatement. They were still more or less feral murder hobos, but they begrudgingly let any Delver with a Club Card pass through the network unmolested. That was the second Artifact the Director had gifted us with. A small stack of temporary tattoos that had the words Kiosk Club Card written in block, neon-red lettering, surrounded by a hazy purple border. Jakob had seen them before, though usually only on lower levels. He explained that the Cards could be purchased from a Black Harbor Syndicate for a truly exorbitant fee.

The tattoos lasted for a month or so and granted access to both the auction house and the network. Between the map and those tattoos, we’d be able to easily navigate through the labyrinthine maze of passageways without worrying about all the nasty things hiding away inside the kiosks themselves.

Even better, the previous owner of this map had charted a course, outlined in glimmering purple light, which would take me from the third floor to the fiftieth, all while traversing only three different floors in the process.

The Director wanted to speed-run us all the way down to the Franchisor’s lair.

I could take the tunnel network from a mall kiosk, currently located in Quadrant 9 Sector 18, down to the nineteenth floor. From there I could catch another gateway to the thirty-ninth floor. A third gateway connected to the sixty-ninth floor, before quickly backtracking to the fiftieth floor—home of the Franchisor.

Assuming the Director was telling the truth, if I killed the Franchisor, I’d assume control of the entire of the kiosk network. That was a total of three-thousand kiosks, which would all be converted to Discount Dan popup locations. A massive, interconnected array of auction houses, which would allow Delvers to buy and sell Relics or Artifacts, while I took a reasonable cut of the profits. Plus, I’d be able to easily navigate the levels without the need to hunt down stairwells or grind endlessly through floor after floor after floor.

It was an opportunity too good to pass up.

Problem was, I didn’t trust the Director for shit.

This felt like a set up. One that would blow up in my face.

On the one hand, if the Flayed Monarch really was preparing strike, we couldn’t just sit here twiddling our thumbs like jackasses waiting for the end of the world. We needed to do something. Anything. But there were really only three viable options.

I pushed myself away from the table and headed over to the fridge, grabbing a pair of ice-cold Bud Lights. I popped the top of the first with expert precision and took a long drink while my mind worried over the problem like a dog with a bone.

“Okay, let’s talk through this thing,” I said, sidling back up to the table and dropping into my chair. I pushed the second, unopened can toward Jakob. The Cendral nodded his thanks and cracked the top, just as I had. I didn’t agree with Jakob on a lot of things, but the one thing we’d always agree on was that it was never too early for beer. “Option one,” I said, “we take these items, call it a stroke of good fortune, then pretend nothing happened and go back to business as usual.”

“Good, let’s get all of the terrible options out right up front,” Temperance said. She tossed the sphere lightly in her palm. “I always like to say there’s no bad ideas during a brainstorming session, but that idea is the exception. You might as well just walk down to the 999th floor and ask the Monarch to turn your skin into a pair of stylish boots.”

“You’re not wrong,” I replied, “but that only leaves us with two options and neither of them are all that much better. Option one”—I thrust a lone finger into the air—“we fall for the Director’s speech, hook-line-and-sinker, walk our happy asses down to the fiftieth floor and try to kill the Franchisor, who is at least level sixty-five. Best case scenario, we survive the journey, somehow manage to kill someone who’s forty levels higher than us, and royally piss of this Lord of Coins guy in the process.”

“True,” Jakob said, “but the rewards well outweigh the potential risks. Taking over the entirety of the kiosk network would dramatically increase our reach. Imagine what we could do with so many kiosks. Think about what we will learn and all the people we could help.” He hunched forward, arms resting against the edge of the table as he peered at the sea of floating lights. He jabbed a finger toward a glimmering mote.

“Unless I am mistaken, that is floor one-hundred and eighty-five. There is an enormous Cendral colony there. And that”—he pointed at another cluster of lights—“is floor two-hundred and fifty. It’s one of the single largest Research facility areas. The whole floor is overrun with Blight, but there are more archives and laboratories there then anywhere else below floor five hundred. If there are any answers about what the Variant Research Division is, about what they were doing here, or what the Backrooms are, I’m sure we’ll find it there.”

A feverish light burned in his eyes like a smoldering tire fire.

“We have to do this,” the Cendral said, the words brimming with resolute conviction.

“I hate to rain on your parade,” Croc said, “but I have reservations. That Director lady was scary, Jakob. There was something off about her. And that’s coming from me, a mimic, who occasionally likes to eat people. I mean, it’s hard to put my finger on—mostly because I don’t actually have fingers—but I’m telling you there’s something wrong with her. I think she might be sick somehow.” The dog pursed its lips into a thin line and shook its head. “I don’t know, maybe she was being honest, but I don’t want to do anything she tells us to.

“Then, there’s this Lord of Coin fellow to consider,” Croc continued, cocking its head to one side. “If we do this, he’s going to be really mad at us. I don’t like the idea of making more enemies when we could make friends instead. What if we tried to find a way to get in touch with the Lord of Coin and tell him what happened? I dunno, maybe there’s a way to make some kind of deal with him instead? I mean, the Lord of Coin might also be bad, but he isn’t actively trying to use us like a weapon.”

“That’s actually the second option,” I said, before taking another pull from my beer. “I don’t think walking into the Lord of Coin’s stronghold is a great idea either, but maybe we could seek out one of his emissaries? There’s got to be a way to get in contact with him.”

“Yes,” Jakob said, “the Black Harbor Syndicate.”

“Oh fiddlesticks.”

“Exactly,” Jakob said. “We’re not exactly on good terms with them, at the moment. I very much doubt they would accept us with open arms.”

Temperance snorted. “That’s putting it mildly. They’re pit vipers. Not as bad as the Aspirants, maybe, but I wouldn’t turn my back on one, for fear that they would try to steal my kidney and sell it on the black market.”

“That’s not a joke, either,” Croc said. “On top of potions, the Black Harbor also traffics in organs and rare bio upgrades. If you want to become a Transmog like Jakob, you have to go through them to get an appropriate Helix sample.”

Everyone was quiet for a long beat. Well shit. That certainly complicated things.

“Maybe we could go to the Franchisor directly,” I finally said, half question, half statement.

“I could be wrong,” Croc said, “but I’m fairly certain the Franchisor isn’t human. No one really knows much about him, or it, but every story I’ve ever heard says he’s a Dweller. A nasty one.”

“You’re a Dweller, too,” I pointed out. “Hell, you’re the one who told me that not all Dwellers are bad. Even if the Franchisor isn’t human, the fact that it’s openly working with the Lord of Coins implies that the Franchisor is reasonable and intelligent. Maybe reasonable and intelligent enough to make a deal with us?”

“I like the plan where we just kill things,” Temperance offered with an unapologetic shrug.

“That option’s still on the table,” I said grimly. “Worst case scenario, we grind like hell and prepare for the very real possibility that we’ll have to kill the Franchisor, but we go down there hoping to cut a deal instead. See if there’s not a non-violent, or at least less murdery, solution to this problem.”

Temperance set the ball sphere down on the table and pouted. “You’ve been spending too much time with Jakob.”

“Don’t worry, Kleine Hase,” Jakob said fondly, “even if we somehow manage to broker a deal with the Franchisor, the road to the fiftieth floor will be covered in blood and paved with death. If we all expect to gain thirty levels apiece, we will need to leave a trail of carnage behind us as wide as the Nile.”

“It sounds like we have a workable plan,” I said.

I still didn’t feel good about this, but I felt better now than I had a few minutes ago.

There was one member of our team who didn’t look quite so reassured, however.

Croc’s shoulders were slumped as though the dog were folding in on itself and a faint tremor ran along its body. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the mimic was scared.

“What’s wrong, bud?” I asked, nudging the mimic with my elbow.

The dog fidgeted nervously under my gaze.

“It’s nothing,” Croc said before quickly wilting under my gaze.

“Bullshit,” I immediately declared. “Friends don’t lie to each other, Croc. There’s something you’re not telling us. Do you know something else about the Franchisor?”

The mimic was quiet for another long moment then finally sighed in defeat.

“No, it’s not that. The truth is,” Croc said, rather sheepishly, “now that we’re here, on the verge of descending… Well, I’m not sure this is what I want anymore, Dan. I thought I wanted to go deeper—that’s where the water slides are, after all—but now? Now, I’m scared. Some part of me knows we need to go deeper, but another part of me is terrified that if we do this, we’re going to lose everything. That I’m going to lose you, Dan…”

The dog faltered and stared down at the floor, unable to look at me a moment longer.

“I… I don’t think I can handle that,” the mimic said. “Gertrude was the closest thing I’d ever had to a mother. She saved me and if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. When the Aspirants killed her, I thought I was never going to have a family again. I was sure I would never be happy again. Even though I tried to help other Delvers, most of them were terrified of me. Or disgusted by me.

“They treated me like a monster, because that’s what I was to them. A monster. But not anymore. For the first time ever, I have friends. I have a community where people don’t hate me. Where they aren’t afraid of me. Those little kids from Howler’s Hold were playing with me, Dan. They were laughing with me, instead of screaming at me or running away from my in terror. That’s never happened before. It’s just…”

The dog slunk over and dropped its head onto my leg. Its huge plastic, googly eyes stared up at me. “I’ve seen so much death, Dan. And I couldn’t bear to lose you. Even thinking about it makes my insides hurt, like when I’ve eaten too much Froyo. Only worse. And with less gas.”

“I think you might be lactose intolerant,” Jakob muttered. “I have a pill that can help with that.”

“I appreciate that,” Croc said, “but I already have enough toes.”

I snorted and didn’t bother to tell the dog that lactose had nothing to do with lacking toes.

“Change is always hard,” I said, patting Croc’s muzzle, “and because friends tell each other the truth, I’m not going to lie and say that this won’t be dangerous. Just the opposite. There’s a good chance we could get hurt. There's even a good chance we could all die. But staying here is a guaranteed death sentence. If we want what we’ve built to last, we need to go deeper. Need to get stronger. There’s no other way.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Croc said, nuzzling my knee. “I’m also afraid that if we go down deeper that you won’t need me anymore. That you won’t want me anymore. I’ve never been below the seventeenth floor, which means I won’t know what the dangers are. I won’t be able to warn you about the traps or tell you about the other Dwellers. I’m not as smart as Jakob, I’m not as good at killing as Temperance, and I’ll never be as handsome as you are in that luxurious robe.”

The dog stroked the edge of my bathrobe with one paw.

“Knowing about the floors is my thing,” Croc said softly. “It’s what I bring to the team. If I don’t have that, Dan, I don’t have anything to offer. I mean my knowledge of Twilight is admittedly impressive and my chair impersonation is getting pretty good, I suppose.” The mimic’s form burbled, and a blue wing backed chair replaced the dog. It still didn’t look normal, but it was more convincing than it had once been. “But,” the chair said, the seat cushion forming its mouth, “I feel like this is pretty situational. Will you still want me around, even if I don’t have a thing anymore?”

“Friendship isn’t transactional,” I replied without missing a beat. “I want you around because of who you are, not because of what you can do for me. This place is bleak and lonely and miserable, but you make it less bleak and lonely and miserable. That’s what you bring to the team.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Croc said, still in chair form. A tear leaked down from a black button eye set into the backrest. It would’ve been sweet if it wasn’t so horrifying.

“You’re welcome, bud. But you’re also right. This is dangerous and even if we survive, things will change, which is why we should vote on it. I’m not the Flayed Monarch and this isn’t a dictatorship. I won’t force anyone to go. For better or worse, we’re in this together and this is our decision, not my decision.” I lifted my hand. “With that said, I vote we go.”

Everyone was quiet for a long beat, as the full weight of the situation sank in.

Although both Temperance and Jakob had said they wanted to descend, talk was cheap. Easy. Walking the walk was another thing entirely. A lesson Croc was coming to terms with in real time.

Jakob was the first to break the tense silence. “I haven’t changed my mind. I will go, too.” He nodded, his jaw set into a hard line. “I already told you, I mean to make it to the bottom. To find answers, then find a way out. I’ll never get another chance like this one. Mitgehangen, mitgefangen, or as you would say, in for a penny, in for a pound.”

“If he’s going, I’m going,” Temperance said, offering Jakob a lopsided smile. “I can’t let myself be outdone by a pacifist. The 1000th floor beckons, and I plan to prove I’m worthy of its call even if no one else thinks so.”

That last remark caught me momentarily off guard.

Temperance normally seemed so self-confident, yet underneath her reckless, devil-may-care attitude, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was deeply insecure and unsure of herself. It wasn’t hard to guess why. She’d been betrayed by her family, abandoned by her fiancée, and sentenced to a cruel and ugly death for a crime she didn’t commit.

She wanted to belong. She wanted to be valued just as badly as Croc did.

“You know you don’t have to prove yourself to Jackson or the rest of those assclowns with the Roomkeepers, right?” I said, more statement than question.

“It’s not about proving myself to him,” Temperance replied, waving away my comment. “I didn’t become a Roomkeeper because of Jackson. I did it for myself. If not for the Backrooms, I’d be dead. They saved me. Choose me. I’m proving to them that I was worth the effort of saving. And I’m also doing it for me. The central tenet of the Roomkeeper faith is that strength is the most important thing in the world.

“I will make myself strong, so that no one will ever be able to do what my family did to me. What Jackson tried to do to me. I’ve been weak my whole life and I refuse to stay that way. Besides.” Her expression softened. “You won’t last long without me.” She stole a sidelong look at Jakob. “You need someone who isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty.”

Jakob sighed and rolled his eyes but said nothing. He was smart enough to know that wasn’t a conversation he could win.

“What about you, Croc?” I asked. “And before you say anything, I want you to know that no matter what you decide, you’ll still be my best friend. If you want to stay behind and help run the store, I won’t be upset at all.”

The blue chair melted into a puddle of writhing limbs and mouths and eyeballs, before finally reforming into the familiar dog shape.

“I still have reservations, Dan,” the dog said, “but if you’re set on doing this, I’m with you all the way. I won’t tell you that I like it, because friends don’t lie to each other, but friends don’t abandon each other either. And you’re my best friend, Dan. Also, between you and me, I can’t stay in the store. Ponypuff is clingier than ever, and I keep finding her staring at me when she thinks I’m not looking. It’s unsettling, Dan.” The dog grimaced. “Also, I can’t technically prove this, but I suspect she might be considering trying to sacrifice me to her god. I found her building an altar in one of the supply closets which is very upsetting to look at.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The irony was just too much coming from a mimic who actively watched me sleep and constantly battled with his insatiable desire to eat me.

“We are agreed then,” Jakob said. “I am feeling a profound sense of angstlust. You do not have a comparable English word, but it means a mixture of fear and excitement.”

“Oh, we have a comparable word, alright,” I said, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s fearboner.”

“Meine Güte,” the lizard man replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I work with idiots.” He sighed then pulled out a small note pad from his jacket. “Hilariously mistranslated phrases aside, if we are going to do this, we must be smart. Cunning. I’ll need a day to prepare. Perhaps two.” He began furiously scribbling down notes in neat German. “There are a few elixirs we will very much want to have on hand, especially if our first stop is the nineteenth floor.”

“Why? What’s on the nineteenth floor?” I asked.

“The Everlasting Suburbs,” he replied, sounding grim and not at all enthusiastic. “Home of the dream eaters, the stitched men, the cannibal kids, and the worst thing of all. The Roberts County Home Owners Association…”