The Cabin Is Always Hungry (A Dungeon Core Horror Slasher)

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].