u/Zerkoh_Valley2010

DUNGEONS AND DRAGUNOVS

I.

“The cursed obsidian Mirror of Seeing mounted upon my cold stone wall revealed to me, in all of the violent, gory, intestine dripping details, the demise of the latest batch of heroic suicidal fools who dared to trespass into my dungeon. On sub-level six, a savage muscle bound brute of a barbarian smashed his way into one of my many subterranean treasure rooms, his greedy eyes growing wide at the sight of the golden treasure chest sitting upon a raised dais made of carved jade. Ignoring the warning of his female elven archer companion about the odd smell in the chamber, the barbarian genus chose instead to use his axe to bash the lock made of flint which secured the cheap balsa wood lid of the gold painted chest. The brief spark created when the barbarian’s double headed war axe struck the lock was enough to ignite the combustible fumes in the air.  The dais upon which the worthless treasure chest sat was actually a very tightly packed explosive black powder painted with a florescent green paint giving it the illusion of being made of some type of magical jade. All of this combined resulted in a spectacular inferno which incinerated both the barbarian and his elven lover, thus insuring that my goblin cooks down in sub-level six will be serving roasted barbarian steaks in creamy elf sauce for a few days.”

“Three levels up on sub-level three, the Mirror of Seeing revealed an annoyingly heroic paladin that had just successfully emerged from one of my more challenging labyrinths, having also slain all of the undead zombies and blood suckers which slithered and crawled within the halls of the claustrophobic stone maze. Frustratingly, the paladin had barely stained his stereotypically boring white cape and shining armor as he stepped from my carefully laid out trap and into a brightly lit room made of white polished marble. In the middle of the room stood a running fountain of refreshingly clear and cool water pouring out of a pitcher held by a beautiful white marble statue dedicated the insipidly stupid goddess to which the paladin worshipped. I rolled my eyes as the gallant paladin bowed reverently to the statue of his goddess, worshipping and thanking her for seeing him through yet another trial and gifting him with a fountain of healing water. He failed to notice that the statue of his goddess bore two little horns on its forehead. I could only imagine his surprise as he took a long sip of the acid pouring from the fountain dedicated to his silly goddess. He flopped and clanked around on the marble tile floor for a good while, clutching at his stomach and throat and retching out some idiotic prayer for salvation from the goddess that betrayed him. It was quite entertaining and I was rather beginning to enjoy the comedic last moments of this insufferable, armored zealot. That is, until Cuddle Pie, my giant savage rock golem, lumbered into the room and stomped the paladin’s head into mush, popping his eye balls out of his crushed skull and putting the devout little moron out of his misery.”

“And, oh, will you look at that? The mighty grey wizard, his two Halfling companions with the big, furry feet and their stupid ring of invisibility, and the gawd-awfully handsome ranger with the rugged good looks and leather trench coat have just reached sub-level nine and are near the exit of my dungeon. They have already defeated Daisy Belle, my giant, horned, fire demon by banishing him back to the depths of the underworld. Bravo! Bravo! Though, to be quite honest, I fully expected them to have won that last boss battle since Daisy Belle was just CGI, anyway.”

“Now, having defeated the most powerful beast in my dungeon, this fellowship of the rubes need only cross the bottomless cavern that looms before them in order to reach the exit portal and freedom, taking with them all of the near-worthless gold painted rocks, cheap costume jewelry, mighty shields and swords made of soft pewter, and diamonds made of glass which they pilfered from one of my so–called treasure hordes. So, behold! The mighty grey wizard uses the special spell he had been saving for this one final obstacle, a spell of levitation which will carry all four of them… Oh, wait. Four? Their fellowship of the ridiculous started this quest with nine adventures!  Oh, well.”

The cursed mirror shows the grey robed wizard waving his hands and glowing staff and soon the spell of levitation carries the four survivors up into the air and across the wide bottomless cavern. With cheers of victory, the triumphant survivors are blissfully unaware that Cthulhu lurks in the impenetrable blackness which yawns below them. Powerful tentacles pulsing with a slimy, grey-green ichor, reach up hundreds of feet from the depths of the chasm to snatch the floating fools from out of the air. The last one to be pulled down into the obsidian depths of the crevasse is the thin Halfling who possessed the stupid ring of invisibility and foolishly neglected to put it on. His final words echo through the black chamber: “Grand-elf the Grey! I will never forgive you for dragging me into this stupid shiiiiiiiiiiiittt…”

Sadly, they all become food for the elder-god long before they realize they will never see the sun again.

 “And that, my dear, dear Hellfire, is the heart of my sorrow. I’m bored, bored, bored, so gawd-awfully bored! These dungeon delvers, these so-called mighty heroes of goodness and light, they die so quickly and so easily these days! I spend so much time, so much energy, and so much wealth designing and building these traps and conundrums and I get so little in return except a brief strangled ‘yelp’ or a swift ‘gasp’ and then, BOOM! The mighty heroes drop dead. Is that really all the thanks I get after working so hard to kill them? Oh, Hellfire, I fear that if I have to endure another century of lackluster dungeon delvers and incompetent adventurers, I believe I may have to end my own existence or worse, get married and settle down!”

The small, snow white kitten with the red tipped ears sitting on the wide arm of the black throne stopped licking itself suddenly shot up, a look of concern on the kitten’s face.

“Hey, boss, now come on! Let’s not get too extreme, here! Marriage? Settle down?” The kitten whom the Dungeon Master addressed as Hellfire shuddered at the thought. “It’s your job to condemn these fools to hell, not condemn yourself there!”

The Dungeon Master continued stroking the head and chin of the tiny kitten.

“Ah, Hellfire. You know and understand me so well.”

“Not really, boss,” purred the kitten. “If I did, I’d have killed your ass decades ago!”

The Dungeon Master laughed heartily. “Maybe one day, my dear, dear Hellfire. But I fear that my heart may fail me before then. I truly weep at the low quality of this generation of rangers, barbarians, magicians, thieves, cavaliers… and… and… and…”

“Acrobats?” yawned Hellfire.

“Oh, yes. And acrobats. I’m always forgetting those ones.” The Dungeon Master sighed dejectedly.

The kitten looked up at its master, suddenly feeling a tinge of concern.

“This is really bumming you out, isn’t it boss?”

The Dungeon Master scratched the kitten’s head while gently rubbing its ears. On the first floor, the cursed obsidian mirror displayed a terrified knight wearing pink armor accentuated with peacock feathers and thin, colorful, streamers resembling a fluttering rainbow fleeing down a wide stone corridor to find a safe space to hide, only to fall clumsily into an open pit. A solid stone block that fit perfectly into the pit slammed down on the hapless knight from the ceiling a half second later. Back down the corridor, from where the now pancaked knight had fled, his blue, pink, green, and orange haired companions found themselves quickly surrounded as they vainly tried to fend off their attackers with their handmade protest signs. Bolts fired from diminutive hobgoblins sliced through the air, skewering the activist avengers carrying signs which read “END CROSSBOW VIOLENCE”, while the others carrying the signs which read “DWARF LIVES MATTER” were bludgeoned to death by giant trolls carrying intimidating stone clubs.

A massive troll with five inch tusks protruding from the bottom of his wide maw heaved his eight foot long club over his spiked shoulder pads. Looking down at the now lifeless ruins of these rainbow colored idiots who foolishly believed that they could protest, riot, loot, and agitate their way to riches, the troll turned and grunted to the hobgoblins, “Take these colorful snowflakes down to the freezers and grind them up with a block of ice. We can make snow cones out of them!”

“Yes, Master Tinkle Twerk,” replied the hobgoblins as they scooped up what remained of this last batch of dungeon delvers.

With that, the cursed obsidian mirror went black, and the Dungeon Master was left staring at her own reflection, her long blonde hair flowing down the sides of her fair, angelic face which bore an expression of bored sadness. Her crystal blue eyes stared blankly at the mirror and she sighed again.

The white silken sleeve of her flowing white gown, highlighted with delicate designs made of glowing gold and silver thread, rolled back from the soft pale skin of her arm as she continued stroking the red-tipped ears of her most beloved and most deadly rival.

“My dear Hellfire,” the Dungeon Master whispered in disappointment. “It’s always over much too quickly. Look! That last group never even got past the first corridor of the first floor! Why do I even try anymore? Do they no longer have the ability to comprehend and reason? Have they not the ability to think for themselves? I fear that if I put a big neon sign which read ‘TRAP’ along with a flashing arrow pointing towards it, they would fumble into it anyway!”

The Dungeon Master scooped up the kitten and held him gently in the air, pulling him close to her face. Touching his nose to hers, the Dungeon Master pouted.

“What happened to all of the heroes? What happened to all of the warriors? The brave adventurers willing to risk it all for fame and fortune? The incorruptible men and women at arms whose quest it is to banish evil from the face of the Realm? The formidable soldier bravely putting his life on the line to protect the weak and defenseless? Oh, Hellfire! Where have all the cowboys gone?”

“Uhhhh… I think you killed them all, boss,” said the kitten, suddenly displaying his set of dagger sharp claws and taking a savage swipe at the Dungeon Master’s face.  The Dungeon Master extended her arms and turned her face, barely missing having her eyes gouged out by Hellfire’s metal razor talons. Giggling, she hugged the kitten close to her cheeks again. She appreciated the kitten’s efforts to cheer her up, but alas, the Dungeon Master was inconsolable.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “I suppose you’re right again, Hellfire. This new age of soy latte drinking, safe space lurking, easily offended weak-kneed adventurers will never hope to survive in my dungeon where courage, intelligence, dedication, and the ability to think for yourselves is what is needed to survive. So instead, they protest endlessly at the entrance to my dungeon, carrying signs and constantly yelling that the riches and treasures buried within these halls and caverns be brought out and given to them as reparations for an event  which happened centuries ago that I had nothing to do with. I swear, my dear Hellfire, they yell and complain so much that my poor vampires and werewolves can scarcely get any sleep at day!”

“So what are you saying, boss?” purred the kitten, innocently licking his paws as if he hadn’t just tried to mutilate his master.

“I’m saying that I may not be long for this world,” answered the Dungeon Master. “All my life, it has been my quest to be the greatest Dungeon Master in the Realm and, sadly, it appears that I have achieved my quest. There is no more challenge, my dear Hellfire. No more spirit. No more desire amongst those so-called adventures who enter. Only a spirit of entitlement, as if they can simply walk into the Dungeon of More-doom, take a left turn, open a door and TA-DA! There before them would be treasures beyond their wildest dreams. Such is not the way of things and I have grown bored of those who believe it is.”

“Hang on, boss-lady!” snapped Hellfire. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

“I’m afraid I am, my beloved,” whispered the Dungeon Master, pursing her red lips in regret. “It is time for me to leave this plane of existence and leave this generation of mediocrity behind. They are not the champions of old. Rather, they have become cheap cosplayers of a time when the Realm was great and heroes were mighty.”

“Naw!” yelped Hellfire in sudden panic. “Naw! Naw! Naw! Naw! Naw! That’s not the deal we had, boss lady!”

The kitten crawled up the Dungeon Master’s ample bosoms and grabbed her in a choke hold by the collar of her gown. “The deal was that I’d eventually be the Dungeon Master. And to do that, I’d have to murder you to death! If you just up and leave and give up your title, I’ll never be the Dungeon Master, ever!”

Then, using the most wide and pitifully sad eyes he could muster, Hellfire pleaded, “Please, boss. You can’t do this to me! I’ve been trying to kill you for, what, about the last two-hundred years now? I thought we had a relationship!”

A long thin stiletto made of glass suddenly appeared in the kitten’s right paw and he lunged forwards. The Dungeon Master, still holding the kitten, moved swiftly to the side, the stiletto which Hellfire had aimed for her heart instead shattering on the black throne. The Dungeon Master hugged the kitten closely again. “I fear your attempts at comforting me may not work this time, my friend.”

Hellfire licked the fair cheek of his master, genuine concern in his voice. “C’mon, boss. Don’t end it like this! At least give me five more years to become Dungeon Master! Just five more years to try to gut you, rip out your insides, hang your head over my mantle, and roll your skin out in front of the fireplace like a rug! Please?”

The Dungeon Master’s crystal blue eyes stared into Hellfire’s ruby red ones. “Ah, my dear Hellfire. I’d gladly give you five more years! Fifty! Five hundred! If only the delvers into the Dungeon of More-doom were to make it worth my time! But I fear that the adventurers of this Realm have become as mighty as a snowflake in the sun. A tiny peep of a fart meant to extinguish a roaring inferno!”

Hellfire’s eyes narrowed, a contemplative grin appearing on his face as he brought a paw up to his chin.

“This Realm, huh?” Hellfire smiled as he leapt from the Dungeon Master’s lap and nimbly scampered across the cobblestone floor to a sturdy pedestal across the room made of dragon bone upon which lay a thick, leather bound tome, reinforced and banded by the same scales of the golden dragon which the pedestal was made.  Hopping up on the pedestal, the kitten opened the tome of ‘Ye’ Ole’ Book of Rules and Regulations Governing the Operation, Maintenance, Safety, and Supervision of Dungeon Delving, Volume 5, Revision 3’, and frantically flipped through the parchment pages.

“Where is it? Where is it? Where is… HERE! Right here! Page 765, Section 45, Subsection F, paragraph 89A: “If possible, all adventurers who enter the dungeon must be at least minimally trained in at least one of the following skills: melee fighting, ranged weaponry, lock-picking, thievery, healing arts, defensive magic, offensive magic, martial arts, that shit that acrobats do, yadda, yadda, yadda… But there isn’t anything in the requirements that state that the adventurers have to be from this Realm!”

“What are you getting at, Hellfire?” a thin glimmer of hope sparkled in the Dungeon Master’s eyes.

“Don’t you see, boss? There is nothing in the regulations states that adventures entering the dungeon have to be from this Realm!”

“I see. Go on, my dear Hellfire.” The Dungeon Master’s voice was tinged with renewed excitement which actually pleased the kitten.

“I visited this realm once which is as bat-shit crazy as this Realm, maybe even more. Bunch of fucked up people there. Baby murderers. War mongers. Child abusers. People who drink diet sodas. Vegans. Grown men going into little girl’s bathrooms. They’re the worst. But I met some pretty nice folks there, too,” sighed Hellfire, fond memories of a little, freckle faced girl named Annie almost bringing a tear to his eye.

“I see where you are going with this line of thinking,” said the Dungeon Master. “But, alas, I do not have the power to bring strangers from another realm into ours.”

“Yeah,” sneered Hellfire, a lit cigar suddenly appearing in his mouth. “But I do! Beelzebub gave me that ability after I gifted him with the souls of three idiot musicians who sold their souls for sex, drugs and majority ownership in processed meat stick companies!”

“And what warriors do you intend to bring to the Dungeon of More-Doom, Hellfire? Do they have the courage, determination, and intelligence to battle through the most dangerous dungeon on the Realm?”

Hellfire smiled slightly, tapping the ashes of his cigar onto the pages of the ancient text and setting ablaze the portion of the regulation stating that all who enter the Dungeon or More-Doom must be of the Realm.

“Honey cheeks,” leered the kitten. “Have you ever heard of the Navy SEALs?”

 

II.

Afghanistan-

The late afternoon sun beat down upon the parched, rocky, orange colored mountains north of Kandahar Air Field as five bearded, heavily burdened and heavily armed men moved silently but swiftly up the ragged, rock strewn path as they stalked something as deadly and as formidable as they were. Over the past two weeks in Kandahar Province, a number of service members had been hit by sniper fire  including four US Marines, three Canadian infantrymen, a US Army medic, and seven Afghan National Army tactical team operatives. Even a giant C-130 Hercules transport took two rounds in the number one engine as it tried to land at Kandahar Air Field. The shots ranged from 800 meters to as far as 1,200 meters. The enemy sniper was good, and he had a set of steel balls. It was also more than likely that the sniper wasn’t a typical Taliban insurgent. This guy was a professional.

“Whatcha’ got, Cory?” whispered Lieutenant Jake Wolfe, the SEAL Team’s lean, tanned, squad leader into his earpiece.

Fifty meters up the rocky ledge, Chief Petty Officer Cory Pretty slowly peered around a stone boulder which obstructed the path. The basalt grey boulder was square shaped, roughly three feet wide and five feet tall and butted up tightly beside the face of the ledge.

“It’s a cave or a tunnel,” whispered the Navy SEAL Chief Petty Officer with the thick, dirty blonde beard, as he leaned back behind the boulder, careful to not dislodge any rocks or pebbles which would give away his position. “About thirty meters off the trail. The entrance has been carefully built up with rocks and stones so that there’s only a two foot wide opening. Too small to be observed by air, but big enough for a sniper to shoot down into the air field unnoticed. Also, I think that this boulder has been rolled here on purpose to block the path.”

“Roger,” whispered Lt. Wolfe. “Can climb up and around the boulder to get to the cave entrance?”

“No,” answered Chief Pretty. “Not without exposing ourselves.

Lt. Wolfe figured as much. He looked up at the sheer orange rock wall which his team was pressed against. There was no way to scale to the top. They were stretched out and exposed with next to no cover. A very unenviable position. Still, they had a mission to accomplish and if the sniper had spotters out in the surrounding ridges, they’d be caught out in the open while the sniper escaped. The SEALs had to act fast.

“Keep eyes on the target, Cory. We’re moving up.”

Once together behind the boulder, Lt. Wolfe scanned the target objective. Just as Chief Pretty described, there was only one way to get to the tunnel entrance and that was right up the middle. The boulder blocked all but two feet of the narrow trail, so the assaulting SEALs needed to also be careful not to trip and fall the sixty or so feet straight down the rock face of the cliff to the ledge below.

Then, turning behind him, Lt. Wolfe signaled, “Darren. Paul. Up.”

Petty Officer First Class Darren Hilliard, the team’s lean and muscular black Mark 48 (MK 48) machine gunner, scrambled silently up the ridge to the lieutenant’s side followed by Petty Officer First Class Paul Gimsby, the teams body building sniper carrying his Mark 13 (MK 13) sniper rifle.

“Okay, Listen up,” started Lt. Wolfe. “We can’t wait for dark and we’re too exposed here. And we can’t flank the cave so we have to go right up the middle.

“Sir,” said big Petty Officer Gimsby. “Do we know that the sniper is in there? I mean, we go in making a bunch of noise and he’s not there, he’ll know we got teams looking out for him and just dig deeper.”

“We don’t know he’s in there,” admitted Wolfe. “And from the targets he’s already hit, there may be a half dozen of his firing points scattered around the ridgeline. It’s a calculated risk, but I have a feeling…”

All of a sudden, a loud hollow thump sounded from around the corner of the boulder coming from the direction of the cave and all of the SEALs froze. Very slowly, Chief Pretty peered around the boulder and spied a thin wisp of dust and smoke drift from the small opening of the cave.

“He’s here,” Chief Pretty whispered, knowing that somewhere a kilometer away down in Kandahar Valley, another allied soldier just got hit. Almost immediately, a second hollow thump like a base drum echoed from around the corner.

Wolfe quickly instructed his men on how he wanted to assault the cave entrance. Lieutenant Wolfe gave himself a few seconds before the attack to slowly lift Petty Officer Second Class Terrell ‘Terry’ Nguyen, the team’s Vietnamese medic, up on top of the relatively flat boulder to provide security for the assault. Almost immediately, one hundred meters ahead on an elevated spot further up the ridge, Nguyen suddenly spotted a camouflaged figure looking down into the Kandahar Air Base. The man was operating an enhanced optics targeting scope and talking into an earpiece. Nguyen brought up his rifle just as the figure noticed him. The figure, obviously an enemy spotter who was calling down targets for the sniper, brought up his modern Russian made AK-12 assault rifle but was cut down by a well-placed shot to the head from Nguyen’s MK 17 SCAR (scar) assault rifle.

Not seeing what Nguyen had just shot at but knowing that they’d just lost the element of surprise, Lieutenant Wolfe none the less gave the order to, “Move!”

Chief Cory immediately whipped around the boulder, stepping away to allow his fellow SEALs to move around behind him as he fired a high explosive 40mm grenade from the M-203 launcher mounted under the barrel of his M-4 rifle before quickly ducking behind the cover of the boulder again. The ear shattering blast blew apart the rock façade, causing the shrapnel to fly in all directions. Instantaneously and before the dust and smoke even cleared, Petty Officer Hilliard rushed past Chief Pretty and raced towards the entrance firing his machine gun into the smoking maw of the cave with big Paul Gimsby and Chief Pretty close behind.

Hilliard stopped at the mouth of the cave and fired another burst inside before raising his weapon. Immediately, Gimsby was inside the cave, sniper rifle up. However, going from direct sunlight into a dark cave required a second for Gimsby’s eyes to adjust, a second in which gave the enemy sniper, who had been taking cover behind a fighting position inside the cave, a chance to fire.

Shouting a warning, Chief Pretty both grabbed and pushed Gimsby into the side of the cave, the enemy sniper’s round bouncing off the wall less than two feet from the back of Chief Pretty’s head. Gimsby raised his sniper rifle just as the enemy sniper readjusted his aim and both snipers fired at nearly the same time from less than twenty feet apart.

“Are you okay, Gimsby?” said Lieutenant Wolfe as he looked down at the big Navy SEAL sniper cradling the ruins his beloved MK 13 sniper rifle. Gimsby’s left hand was red and swollen, his thumb bent back in an unnatural position. The enemy sniper’s round impacted the MK 13, knocking it out of Gimsby’s hands. Fortunately, Gimsby fired a split second before the enemy sniper did, and Gimsby didn’t miss.

“I’m fine, sir,” replied Gimsby, not looking up.

“Terry,” said Lt. Wolfe. “Come check on Gimsby.”

“Moving, sir,” replied Petty Officer Nguyen, unstrapping his aid bag from his back.

“What do we have, Chief?” said Wolfe after he saw Nguyen treating Gimsby’s swollen left hand and wrist.

“This is going to hurt a bit,” he heard Nguyen say.

“No it ain’t,” replied Gimsby. “Do what you gotta’ do, Terry.”

The adrenaline pumping through Gimby’s veins after his near death experience was better than any pain killer that Nguyen could provide.

Chief pretty looked down at the Caucasian enemy sniper with the bullet hole between his eyes. “Well, sir,” answered Chief Pretty. “He sure as hell isn’t a local.”

The enemy sniper wore a digital camouflage pattern uniform of varying shades of brown and a modular combat vest similar to the ones that the US Marines wore.

“Russian Spetz?” asked Hilliard.

“Maybe,” said Chief Pretty. “But I’d wager that he’s part of the Wagner Group, a Russian mercenary outfit that works with the Russian regular army but is better trained and equipped.  Putin uses them everywhere that regular Russian military forces can’t go. Africa. Eastern Europe. The Middle East. South America. Portland. Seattle. Minneapolis. Everywhere Putin needs to stir up trouble.”

“Interesting,” said Lieutenant Wolfe as he turned to exit the cave. “I’m going outside to call this one in. See if the intel guys are tracking this. I don’t like Russians playing in my sand box.”

“Roger that, sir,” said Chief Pretty, leaning down to pick up the dead enemy’s sniper rifle, before walking over to Gimsby and Nguyen.

“How’s he looking, Terry?”

“Patching Gimsby up is getting to be a hobby on this deployment, Chief,” answered Nguyen. “Had to pop his dislocated thumb back into place and his wrist is fractured, but he’ll live.”

“Gimsby?” said Chief Pretty.

“It’s like Terry said, Chief,” replied Gimsby, waving his heavily bandaged and wrapped left hand. “I’m fine.  Nothing that a dirty magazine, a bottle of lotion, and four minutes of privacy in the shitter won’t cure.”

“I don’t know about that,” chuckled Chief Pretty. “But how about this?” Chief Pretty handed over the enemy’s sniper rifle to the big Navy SEAL.

Grabbing it with his right hand, Gimsby looked it over. “Dragunov,” he grunted. “Not as nice as my MK 13, but its rugged enough. It’ll do until we get back.”

“Heads up,” announced Lieutenant Wolfe as he reentered the cave. “We got two WIA down in the valley from the sniper we just killed. We got Nine Line medevac in the air so our extraction won’t be for another hour. In the meantime, Six Actual wants us to check out this cave system to see if it connects to other sniper firing positions or to see if there’s any usable intel we can find.”

“This cave is pretty deep, sir,” said Hilliard. “I’ve gone in about fifty meters but it looks like it extends much farther than that. Maybe a hundred or even more. Gets almost pitch black the further you go.”

“Okay,” said Lt. Wolfe striding deeper into the cave. “Let’s move.”

Lieutenant Wolfe ran into the outstretched open palm of Chief Pretty. “Easy, there, El-Tee. You aren’t a grunt anymore, not since you pinned them bars on.” Chief Pretty stared firmly into Lieutenant Wolfe’s eyes. “I’ll take point. We already lost one squad leader. I don’t want to lose another one.”

Lieutenant Wolfe paused, painfully remembering that he gained command of Second Platoon after the death of the platoon’s former leader, his mentor and close friend, Lieutenant Rick Guzman.

“No Gooses, right Cory?” said Lieutenant Wolfe.

“That’s right, sir,” answered Chief Pretty. “Like Lieutenant Guzman used to say. No Gooses.”

The team walked deeper into the cave where, seventy meters in, they found a cache of twelve 9K333 Verba MANPADS (man-pads) launchers, the most advanced Russian version of America’s Stinger portable surface to air missile launchers. The presence of these weapons in the hands of skilled Russian mercenaries would have caused havoc so close to the Kandahar Air Field.

Beyond where they found the cache, the cave dipped into absolute pitch darkness. Lieutenant Wolf reported the disturbing find back to Kandahar and was ordered to secure the cache of surface to air missiles and probe deeper into the cave. A support company of Army cavalry troopers and EOD specialists were being dispatched to the SEAL’s location. They were expected to be on station in about an hour.

“Gimsby, I need you and Terry to secure these SAMs,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “I want you to cover our six and secure the entrance while we go further into the cave. Everyone else, break out your NODs (“nods”-night vision optical devises). It’s going to be midnight from here on in.”

“Sir,” protested Gimsby. “I got this. There isn’t any need to keep two people guarding the exit.”

“Sir,” said Hilliard. “I can more than secure the cache and cover the exit with the MK 48. In close quarters combat,…”

Hilliard trailed off and Lieutenant Wolfe instinctively knew what Hilliard was trying to say. Hilliard’s MK 48 machine gun wasn’t the best weapon system to utilize in the close confines of a cave, but it was optimal to secure the team’s vulnerable six o’clock position. Plus, Gimsby had just gone through a near life ending event, an event which would have sent far lesser men running, cowering, and hiding after such a traumatic event. Petty Officer Gimsby instead sought to continue the mission and move forward, ever forward. Denying him that would have been tantamount to cutting off his balls and putting him in a ballerina outfit.

“You got slack, Hilliard,” said Wolfe. “Everyone else, stay sharp.”

Lieutenant Wolfe looked into the near opaque blackness of the cave as he strapped on his own NODs. “Terry, you have trail. I want you to drop a chem-light every twenty-five meters so that we have a path back to the entrance.”

“Too easy, sir,” replied Nguyen.

 “Okay. Let’s move.”

Hilliard took up a prone firing position a few meters in front of the crates of Russian missiles, setting up his machine gun pointing back towards the entrance as the rest of his team mates filed past him and headed deeper into the cave, the crunch of their boots fading the further they went. They had been gone for several minutes when Hilliard heard Chief Cory call the team to a sudden halt in his ear piece.

“Hold up. Shit! Is that what I think it is?” whispered Chief Cory

“Is that a woman and a… a kitten?” Hilliard heard Terry exclaim through his ear piece.

 

Hilliard looked behind him where his team had gone but saw only dust swirling in the inky blackness.

 

“Stop! Don’t move!” said Lieutenant Wolfe in the Pashtun dialect. “We’re Navy SEALs. We mean you no harm. Who are you? What are you doing here?”

 

Suddenly, over his ear piece, Hilliard heard a leering, almost mocking voice exclaim in a Brooklyn accent, “Howdy, fellas. My name is Hellfire! Pleased ta’ meet cha’!”

 

There was a sudden squelching noise so loud that Hilliard had to quickly take out his ear piece and toss it away. Then, picking it back up and putting it again to his ear, Hilliard was alarmed to find that the communication device was completely silent.

 

“Lieutenant Wolfe,” said Hilliard. “Chief? Come in!” Silence.

 

“Paul? Terry? Can you hear me?”

 

After a second, Hilliard muttered, “Shit,” before snatching up his machine gun and tearing down the cave in the direction the rest of the team had gone. Soon engulfed in almost total darkness, Hilliard’s NODs easily picked up the chem-lights which Nguyen had dropped on the rock strewn ground. He passed one then another then, after the cave narrowed and turned slightly left, Hilliard passed a third dropped chem-light. However, at the fourth chem-light, Hilliard stopped abruptly.

 

“Shit!” exclaimed Hilliard. In front of him was a solid wall of granite. On the ground, one of Nguyen’s chem-lights protruded half way out of the rock wall.

 

III.

 

“Hang on, sweetheart! You want us to do what?” exclaimed Gimsby to the beautiful woman in the flowing white and gold gown standing like an apparition before him. The team now found themselves standing in a chamber of some sort, much like as one might find inside a medieval castle. It was warmly lit from fires burning from several golden braziers.

 

“Hey, asshole!” snarled the kitten. “Show the lady some respect you classless choad!”

“Did we somehow get exposed to a psychoactive substance?” said Chief Pretty to Lieutenant Wolfe. “Maybe some type of hallucinogenic drug or powder brought here by the Wager Group to fuck with our heads?”

“That is a very good possibility, Cory,” said Wolfe. “In fact, that’s what I’m hoping. I really don’t like the fact that we are all having the same hallucination, Chief, or that we’re actually having a conversation with a damn kitten.”

“I assure you, my dear Ranger, this is no illusion,” said the woman in such a sweet and seductive tone that all four of the SEALs became slightly sexually aroused.

“Ranger?” said Wolfe sternly, gaining control of himself. “I’m not an Army Ranger. We’re United States Na…”

“You ARE the Ranger,” interrupted the woman. “The intrepid leader of this band of daring dungeon explorers!”

“What?” said Chief Cory suspiciously, bringing his rifle to the high ready. “What are you talking about?”

“And you, loyal and noble Cavalier, the experienced battle-borne second in command,” said the woman, clasping her hands together and smiling. The SEALs stood unmoving, as if spellbound by the woman’s beauty as she approached Nguyen and Gimsby.

“And the healing Mage,” said the lady to Petty Officer Nguyen. “So easy to tell your role in this fellowship. You are the youngest, the newest to the group, and the most virginal.”

“Hey!” started Nguyen.

“And you,” she said, now standing in front of Gimsby, the big warrior towering over the fragile looking lady in white. “You must be the fellowship’s powerful Barbarian. Oh, the magnificent battles you must have fought!”

“Fantasy characters,” whispered Nguyen to the lieutenant. “Like in the role playing game.”

Her sparkling blue eyes gazed upon Gimsby’s bandaged left hand. “Hmm… that will not do. I cannot let you enter the Dungeon of More-Doom with such a disadvantage. You must be fully hale and healthy before beginning your most noble of quests.”

Before Gimsby could protest, the exceedingly beautiful young lady took his injured hand in both of hers, her hands glowing briefly with a warm light, before she gently lowered Gimsby’s hand again. Gimsby raised his hand and rotated his wrists.

“Gimsby?” said Wolfe.

“It’s healed,” said Gimsby, working to remove the wrappings which Nguyen had applied earlier. “Feels good as new.”

“It is as I said,” the lady smiled as she looked almost longingly at Gimsby’s Dragunov rifle. “To complete your quest, you need to be hale and whole.”

“Okay, lady,” snapped Chief Pretty. “Let me get this straight. You are the Dungeon Master and you want us to enter your dungeon, defeat a bunch of traps, fight some monsters, and kill your final boss so that we can get out of here? Sort of like that role playing game, right?”

“Game?” said the Dungeon Master. “Oh, my dear Cavalier, this is no game. The consequences are quite deadly, but the reward is exceedingly worth the risk to a great many heroes.”

“What if we don’t play your game, then?” said Wolfe. “How about we just leave this place.”

“Oh, my dear Ranger,” answered the Dungeon Master. “I fear that I do not have the power to return you to your realm, just as I did not have the power to bring you here. That ability rests with…”

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” interrupted Hellfire, nervously. “Look fella’s. It’s like this. You wanna’ get outta’ here, you gotta’ get past the dungeon. There’s nine levels to this place, a top floor and eight floors below it. At the bottom level, there’s a boss monster. Get rid of it and you’re home free. No big deal to a bunch of big, muscle bound, heavily armed, poster boys to toxic masculinity like yourselves, right?”

“And what’s in it for us?” said Wolfe. “What if we go along with your… game?”

“Riches and glory, fame, power, and the realization of your wildest fantasies come true,” said the Dungeon Master. “All these and more shall be yours, my dear Ranger!”

“Yeah,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “No thanks. Take em’!”

On cue, all four Navy SEALs rushed the lady and the kitten, intent on apprehending them. However, the white kitten jumped in their way, swiftly waving its tiny paws in the air as if casting a spell.

“No ya’ don’t, ya’ buncha’ Tom Cruise wannabes!”

Immediately, a fiery round portal opened in the air in front of the SEAL Team, swallowing them whole. It closed as rapidly as it appeared, leaving only Hellfire and the Dungeon Master standing alone again in the throne room. Hell fire looked over at the Dungeon Master, her delicate hands covering her mouth, a shocked expression on her face.

“What kind of warriors are those, whose commitment to duty overrides any desire for riches and glory?”

“Don’t worry about them, sugar hips,” smiled Hellfire. “They’ll be fine after the book deal!”

Hellfire snapped his paws and a bottle of Dalmore Scotch and two tumblers suddenly appeared on a small round table made of marble. He poured two servings and handed one to the Dungeon Master.

“Turn on your freaky Mirror of Seeing,” sneered Hellfire as he toasted with the Dungeon Master. “Game’s on!”

Three gargantuan trolls, each over eight feet tall and each hefting similarly sized stone clubs waited silently in ambush in the corridor for the four new dungeon delvers to round the corner. With the trolls, twelve diminutive but wicked hobgoblins hunched, each holding a nasty crossbow with bolts dipped in witches feces.

A gloved hand appeared briefly from around the stone corner, tossing a cylindrical metal object towards the ambushers. It bounced and skipped across the smooth, cobblestone floor before coming to rest at the largest troll’s gnarled green feet.

“What fool toy is this?” bellowed Twinkle Twerk, picking the object up before the M-84 flash bang grenade cooked off. The sudden deafening explosion and near blinding flash of light sent Twinkle Twerk stumbling backwards in confusion and pain, dropping his stone club on one unfortunate hobgoblin along the way and stepping on and crushing four other hobgoblins who were unlucky enough to be underfoot. Still reeling backwards, the giant troll fell into a pit in the floor, a concrete block which fit perfectly in the pit falling from the ceiling and crushing the hapless Twinkle Twerk. Still dazed, shocked, and reeling from the effects of the flash bang grenade, what remained of the trolls and hobgoblins hard no time to collect themselves as the four Navy SEALs rounded the corner with all weapons blazing.

“Stay alert, gentlemen,” warned Lieutenant Wolfe as they stepped over the smoldering bodies of dead hobgoblins and trolls. “I have a feeling that this was only the welcoming party.”

Walking carefully over the great stone slab that crushed the giant troll and now filled the pit, the SEALs carried on down the fifteen foot wide corridor. Torches in sconces lining the wall provided ample illumination as their boots echoed down the corridor.  They soon came to a T-junction, the left hand corridor leading to a set of stone steps leading up into a brightly lit chamber from which the smells of delicious food seemed to be emanating. To the right, the corridor dimmed, the end lost in the darkness.

As usual, Chief Pretty was on point. Looking back at the lieutenant, Wolfe signaled him to go right down the dimmer path. The cat said that in order to get out, they’d have to go down, not up. Plus, the left path seemed the easiest and most inviting. SEALs don’t like easy.

Though dimmer, there were still enough torches on the wall to illuminate their immediate surroundings. To their left, Chief Pretty discovered a perfectly round circle, about fourteen feet wide, cut into the stone wall of the corridor. Upon further inspection, they saw that a ramp led from the opening which disappeared up into the darkness.

“I’m getting some real Indiana Jones vibes here,” said Gimsby. Sure enough, a rumbling like stone rubbing against stone shook the corridor coming from the top of the ramp and grew in intensity as something huge came barreling down.

“Let’s move,” ordered Wolfe and the four SEALs bolted down the corridor just as a perfectly round boulder, fourteen feet wide and made of a single giant red ruby shot out of the slot and rumbled after the fleeing warriors. As they raced down the passage, the giant ruby boulder hot on their heels, the SEALs noticed to their left were several alcoves cut behind grey stone pillars that were about three feet deep and ten feet high. Each contained a stone statue of a skeleton dressed in armor adorned with wicked looking spikes. In the distance about a hundred meters, the dimly lit corridor ended at a brightly lit stone archway, illuminating a set of stairs leading downwards. In between two torches on the wall was a sign painted in florescent paint which read: “Quickly!” along with an arrow pointing down the stairs. At this, the boulder seemed to unnaturally pick up speed.

“Faster!” yelled Nguyen.

“No! Wait!” yelled Chief Pretty waving his arms to the left. “The alcoves! Jump into one of the alcoves!”

“Do it!” agreed Lieutenant Wolfe, who was in the rear of the group. He jumped to his left into the nearest alcove, the eerie stone statue just barely giving him room to fit in just seconds before the several ton ruby boulder rumbled past him. As soon as the danger had passed, Wolfe jumped out of the alcove to check on his men, only to see a wall of thin metal spikes suddenly slam down over the stone archway that would have impaled anyone who had been running towards the supposed safety of the stairs. The ruby boulder continued inexorably forwards, crashing through the archway and the spike wall barrier in a deafening cacophony of noise before falling away down the circular stairs, leaving behind a fourteen foot wide round hole in the wall.

One by one, the rest of the SEALs emerged from the alcoves which they had taken refuge, accept that Nguyen fell out of his alcove backwards, cursing and backing away from the skeletal stone statue that slowly emerged from the darkness. Nguyen was on his back, trying to bring his weapon to bear as the skeleton knight raised a rusty but deadly claymore over its head. A jarring shot rang out of the darkness and the stone skeleton’s head exploded, showering Nguyen with chunks of rock. The stone skeleton fell over sideways and broke apart as it hit the cobblestone floor.

Gimsby put the smoking Dragunov down off his shoulder and nodded at his weapon. “Huh. Not bad.”

“There’s more of them!” warned Nguyen as Lieutenant Wolfe yanked him to his feet. About a dozen more of the skeletal golems began emerging from their alcoves, each brandishing claymore swords or heavy maces made of stone. In their eye sockets were red rubies which glowed angrily. Still, this new threat moved slowly and Lieutenant Wolfe ordered his men to make for the stairs, ignoring the temptation of engaging the golems in order to steal their ruby eyes.

The SEALs raced down the circular stairway which wound downwards into the darkness. It ended at a narrow landing which opened into another brightly lit corridor. From somewhere inside this passageway, the SEALs could faintly hear the haunting notes of chamber music playing.

“Someone grab the Silly String out of my ruck,” said Chief Pretty as he crouched beside the entrance way. With Gimsby and Nguyen guarding the stairwell which they had come, Lieutenant Wolfe pulled the can of Silly String from Chief Pretty’s ruck and handed it to him. Immediately, Chief Pretty sprayed the spider web-like concoction across the entranceway. It drifted to the floor except for some which seemed to be caught up on a near invisible wire three feet inside the entrance.

“Tripwire,” he whispered just as Gimsby and Nguyen began firing behind him.

“Those things are coming down the stairs, Chief!” yelled Gimsby.

“Let’s go,” said Wolfe. “Watch out for that tripwire! Chief?”

“I’m good,” Pretty replied as he stepped over the trip wire and sprayed the silly string again a few feet ahead of him. Again, the web-like concoction fell to the floor except for another section which got caught up in yet another tripwire six feet ahead.

“We got another one!” warned Chief Pretty. “Watch out for that one!”

“Keep going, Chief!” said Wolfe. “We’ve got your back!”

Chief Pretty sprayed the Silly String again, but this time all of it fell to the floor. Still, he cautiously moved forwards a few feet before spraying the can and again, all of the string fell to the floor. By this time, the skeleton golems had reached the landing and were making their way inexorably towards the Navy SEALs  and though Lieutenant Wolfe and Nguyen’s rifles where taking horrible chips out of the monsters, it seemed like only Gimsby’s Dragunov was powerful to take the golems down with one head shot.

“I think we’re clear of the trip wires, El-Tee!” shouted Chief Pretty.

“Okay,” replied Wolfe. “We move back slowly! I don’t trust this damn place!”

The SEALs fell back about twenty meters down the corridor when the first skeletal golem stepped on the first trip wire. In an instant, a three foot stone square section of the left wall shot out abruptly, slamming into the opposite wall with a tremendous crash which shook the entire corridor and crushed three of the skeletal golems before receding slowly back into the left wall again. Seemingly undisturbed, the remaining five stone horrors marched towards the SEALs when they hit the second trip wire. There was a rumble in the corridor even greater than the first as the entire granite ceiling from the point where the trap was sprung all the way back to the landing came crashing down to the floor in a solid avalanche of stone and debris. The SEALs were forced to fall back down the corridor even further as, for several minutes, it seemed as if the entire dungeon would collapse in on itself. However, as the dust and debris finally settled down, there was quiet again as the SEALs found themselves staring at the now impassible corridor behind them. All of the torches on the wall had been snuffed out by the collapse of the ceiling, but a bright light seemed to come from an adjoining passage some distance down the gloomy corridor.

Cautiously, they crept down the corridor, weary of any more trip wires. Fortunately, they encountered none as they came across a four way junction. To their front and left, the corridor disappeared into blackness, but to the right, the warm light of a fire was emanating from a room down the corridor.

“You hear that?” said Gimsby.

From the room, the sound of the eerily melodic chamber music could be heard, louder now. The SEALs stacked on the right side of the open archway, nut to butt with Chief Pretty up front and Lieutenant Wolfe bringing up the rear. With a nod, the SEALs stormed into the room, Chief Pretty’s rifle up and scanning, clearing to the left while Nguyen button-hooked around the corner to clear the right. They were in a study of some sort, elaborately carved wooden shelves lined the walls and filled with books, scrolls, and manuscripts. Candles sat in small alcoves lining the walls, but the main source of light came from a flame burning in the fireplace.

“Contact!” yelled Gimsby, raising his rifle. Lieutenant Wolfe entered the room a split second after, his rifle also raised.

Seated on a plush, high backed chair was a deathly pale man with jet black hair wearing what looked like a black Victorian-era suit with an equally black cape. Clasped around his throat was an amethyst broach in the shape of a wolf’s skull. He was seated next to the elegant fireplace, the fire giving off light, but no heat, and in his pale, clawed hand was a crystal goblet filled with a thick, red liquid.

He turned nonchalantly and regarded the SEALs with deep, black eyes which were ablaze with the reflection of the fire in the fireplace. He smiled evilly, his upturned lips revealing sharpened teeth and wicked long fangs.

“My, but you lot are a noisy bunch,” he spoke in a derisive tone. But his voice was almost as hypnotic as the melodic music which seemed to be emanating from out of thin air. He stood from his chair and opened his arms welcomingly, transfixing this latest group of doomed warriors in his icy gaze.

“Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Count…”

THOOM!

The vampire’s eyes went wide as Lieutenant Wolfe shot him in the heart.

“WAIT! What are you…”

THOOM! THOOM!

“What the hell?” screamed the vampire as Chief Pretty and Nguyen put two more rounds into his chest.

“But…but…but…”stammered the vampire.

“Blah, blah, blah!” said Gimsby.

“I don’t say blah, blah, blah, you asshole…” protested the vampire just as Gimsby put the final round into the vampire’s head. The undead bloodsucker fell backwards into the fireplace which literally exploded in a bright blue flame which reduced the monster to ashes.

“Okay,” said Wolfe impassively. “This is a library. See if we can find anything useful on this place.”

The beautiful Dungeon Master and Hellfire watched transfixed at the Mirror of Seeing, a look of concern on the Dungeon Master’s face.

“Oh, Hellfire. I fear that this may be where the quest of my champions might end. For who could resist the cursed treasures and riches stored in Count Snuggle Bunny’s library?”

“Yeah,” agreed the kitten. All about the vampire’s library were crystal bowls filled with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires the size of apples. “They’re okay to handle them gems while they’re in the library. But if any of them leaves the library with a gem in their possession, they’ll turn into a blood sucker themselves!”

“Hey, sir!” exclaimed Nguyen. “Check this out!”

The glow of the fireplace reflected off a treasure trove of crystal bowls filled with priceless gems as Lieutenant Wolfe examined what Nguyen had laid out on the table.

“Yup. I’d say this was the treasure we’d been looking for,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “You’ve earned your pay for this month, Terry!”

The Dungeon Master clapped her hands together as the Mirror of Seeing showed Lieutenant Wolfe and his men leaving the vampire’s library with their treasure.

“Hellfire, look! They did it! They found the real treasure in the study!”

The kitten put down his glass of scotch, his eyes wide. “Yeah. I’m… I’m kinda’ impressed.”

 

 

IV.

Lieutenant Wolfe was now on point as he led his men out of the study, but they had hardly gone ten meters down the corridor when Wolfe ran nearly headlong into a group of white corpse-like figures charging towards him, hungry fanged maws opened and claws grasping. Many of the blood suckers wore rusting armor and bore shields and swords, axes, and spears. They were male and female, human, dwarf, elf, and Halfling, all former noble champions who could not resist taking one of Count Snuggle Bunny’s priceless, cursed,  jewels from his library.

Lieutenant Wolfe pumped round after round into the approaching horde then quickly took a knee, ejecting the empty magazine from his rifle. “Reloading!”

Gimsby stepped in front of his lieutenant, his Glock 19 combat pistol spitting out lead towards the vampires which were now only a few meters away.

“Fall back to the library! Go!” ordered Wolfe.

In orderly fashion, the SEALs fell back towards the library, alternately taking turns firing and moving, keeping the horde at bay in the narrow passageway with a steady stream of gunfire. Wolfe was the last to enter the library as his SEALs filed past him. Arming a flash-bang grenade, Wolfe allowed it to cook off for a couple of seconds before he tossed it down the hallway, ducking into the library just as the grenade exploded with an ear shattering blast accompanied by a blinding flash of light. The grenade, which exploded like a mini-sun in the narrow claustrophobic corridor, scorched the horde of vampires. In unison, they all howled in excruciating pain just as Wolfe armed and tossed another flash-bang grenade around the archway and down the hallway. The piteous wailing of the vampires ceased suddenly after the next thunderous blast.

Gimsby and Chief Pretty were the first ones out of the library, scanning the hallway where at least a dozen bodies lay. As they walked down the corridor, weapons wearily pointed at the unmoving, charred corpses of the vampires, spectral forms began to rise from the bodies which slowly solidified into the ghostly images of the noble heroes before they were turned into bloodsuckers. They were warriors, adventurers, soldiers, and champions of the Realm who had met their end here.

The spirit form of a heavily armored bearded knight, drifted slowly towards Lieutenant Wolfe, his gauntleted hand raised in salute.

“Hale, noble warriors,” the knight spoke in a deep, baritone voice. “Please accept our eternal gratitude for freeing us from the nightmare which has plagued our spirits and corrupted our bodies lo these many long…”

“Can you tell us anything about the way forward or the levels below this one?” interrupted Lieutenant Wolfe.

“Uh… why… no,” stammered the ghostly knight, looking about to the other ghostly heroes who shrugged their shoulders. “I fear that we all met our end here, so we have no knowledge of the way forwards.”

“Okay, let’s move out. Terry, take point,” said Wolfe as his team quickly moved ahead towards a set of stone stairs leading downwards and leaving the befuddled group of ghostly apparitions behind.

Back in the Dungeon Master’s throne room, the kitten was on his back, slapping his knees and howling with laughter. “Did you see that, babe?” he said, pointing to the Mirror of Seeing. “Those guys literally ghosted the ghosts!”

“It would seem that these men are highly…uh… focused,” said the Dungeon Master, a look of bemusement on her face.

Down on the next level, the SEALs were in a brightly lit chamber standing around a sturdy wooden table. At their feet were small piles of empty shell casings and the bullet ridden bodies of several tusk-mouthed orcs. The team was examining the prize which Nguyen had found in the library: a map of the entire Dungeon of More-Doom.

“If we take this path here,” said Wolfe as he traced a line with his finger down varying hallways on the map, “we can avoid most of the traps and pitfalls and shit that we don’t have time to deal with until we get to the next set of stairs.”

The map in front of them showed that the next room was, in fact, a giant underground chamber at least a half mile square into which was constructed a confounding labyrinth made of black granite walls. At the far end of the maze was a chamber marked with the letter “M” which contained stairs leading downwards.

“Cuddle Pie friends! Where Cuddle Pie friends hiding?” A deep, rocky voice echoed from outside the room coming from the corridor which the SEALs entered. Heavy footfalls, like stone crunching against stone echoed closer and closer to the room with a CRUMP, CRUMP, CRUMP, sound.

Chief Pretty stuck his head out of the heavy wooden door then slammed it shut again. “It’s a ten foot tall savage rock golem,” he announced.

“We don’t have time to deal with it,” said Wolfe. “Terry, give me the map. Let’s go.”

Lieutenant Wolfe led the way again this time as they exited the chamber via a stone archway which led into the foreboding black maze. Touches hung on sconces revealing a bewildering array of passages and side passages going in every direction. Behind them, the wooden door to the orc barracks smashed inwards, the massive stone golem wailing, “Cuddle Pie friends! Who do this to Cuddle Pie friends?”

A legend on the map referring to this particular labyrinth warned that undead ghouls and zombies ceaselessly roamed these passageways, eternally searching for the living to feast on. However, the map also revealed that if the team simply stayed on the straight and narrow corridor, ignoring the hundreds of turns and junctions which led deeper into the maze, then simply turned right at the very last t-junction, they would reach the mysterious chamber marked “M” and the stair well which led to the next floor. There were no warnings or indications of any traps along this route, so Lieutenant Wolfe quickly but cautiously quickened their pace.

As they jogged down the half mile long corridor, the guttural moaning and hissing around them warned of the approach of the undead from the countless side corridors. For the most part, however, the SEALs were able to out run their pursuers and in the few instances where dodging wasn’t an option, the SEALs were able to drop the threatening ghoul with a well-placed shot to the head.

It took eight minutes for the SEALs to jog and fight their way through the half mile long corridor, an army of the ravenous undead shambling behind them. As well , a massive and highly pissed off savage rock golem named Cuddle Pie lumbered behind the undead, stomping and smashing them to rancid goo in its pursuit to catch the ones responsible for slaughtering its orc friends. As the map illustrated, the corridor led to a t-junction and, after quickly assuring that no dangers awaited them around the corner, the SEALs turned the corner and raced the last fifty meters towards the next chamber.

The team came up short as they neared the brightly lit, wide open passageway. A very brightly lit letter “M” hung next to the entrance, made in the shape of two, golden colored arches, and the unmistakable scent of mouthwatering burgers, French fries, and hot apple pies wafted from within. The floor was actually a beige, laminate tile, the bright and cheerful illumination was provided by actual overhead, electrical lighting, and there were booths and tables for customers to sit and enjoy a meal, although the restaurant was empty of customers save for the four Navy SEALs.

As soon as the last member of the team crossed into the restaurant, a wall made of red brick silently slid down behind them, complete with framed black and white pictures of the famous restaurant chain as it looked when it first opened back in the 1960’s. Behind the counter, a teenage cashier resembling a high school cheerleader with two small horns protruding from her forehead eagerly awaited to take their order. Next to the counter on the left was a set of stairs leading downwards. A cheerful, jazz instrumental tune was playing overhead.

“Hey, guys!” said the young female cashier, smiling broadly and waving. “You fella’s sure look hungry. Can I take your order?”

“No,” said Lieutenant Wolfe, pulling out his Glock and shooting her in the head. The cashier fell backwards into the soda machine which dispensed acid as the SEALs ran past the counter and down the flight of stairs.

The cashier slowly got up, none the worse for wear and waved as the last Navy SEAL disappeared down the stairs. “Okay, my pleasure! Have a blessed day!”

The SEAL Team stood before a great vaulted chamber about a quarter mile square, the walls and ceiling made of a highly polished obsidian. In the far side of the chamber, near an exit that opened into the blackness beyond was a black obsidian monolith that stood about seven feet tall, roughly three feet at the base and tapering to one foot square at the top. Atop this black monolith sat an amethyst crystal roughly a foot high and a foot around that pulsated with a blue light bright enough to illuminate the entire room. The monolith and the crystal sat in the middle of a round raised dais that stood nearly ten feet tall with steps leading all the way up to the monolith. The floor was made of alternating white and blue marble tile about two feet square. The blue tiles gave off a faint blue illumination.

“This is pretty much an open trap, El-Tee,” said Nguyen, reading the map. “It says here that all we have to do is cross over to the other side. The white tiles are completely safe, but the blue tiles will instantly emit an electrical charge powerful enough to fry anything that steps on it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” said Gimsby. “All we have to do is walk on the white tiles, right?”

“Not exactly,” said Nguyen, just as the tiles began to blink and flash, turning from white to blue in a random pattern. A faint scent of ozone began emanating from the room.

“Shit,” exclaimed Chief Pretty. “Does the map give a clue on the shifting pattern, Terry?”

“No, Chief,” he replied. “The light pattern is completely random. We step on a white tile just as it turns blue, and we’re…”

“On the burger menu for the restaurant upstairs,” said Wolfe as he took the map from Nguyen. Examining it closely, he saw that there was no other way forwards except right through the chamber. “Cory, lob a frag in the middle of the chamber.”

Chief Pretty pulled a 40mm HE frag grenade from his ammo vest and loaded it into the breach of his M203 grenade launcher. The others took cover behind the stone entrance as Chief Pretty aimed for a spot roughly fifty meters inside the chamber. Hefting the weapon in his shoulder, he warned, “Frag out!”

The weapon made a satisfying THUMP as the grenade flew into the room and exploded exactly where Chief Pretty wanted it. However, as Chief Pretty slowly peered around the corner, he was disheartened to see a black scorch mark on the tile, the grenade seeming to have done no damage to the floor.

“Well, that didn’t work,” muttered Pretty.

Gimsby came up behind Chief Pretty, aiming his Dragunov at the point where the grenade had detonated.

“Wait,” said Wolfe just as Gimsby fired. The high velocity round hit the ground then bounced up, ricocheting all around the chamber. The SEALs dived for cover behind the archway as the sniper round zipped and pinged around the chamber for a few seconds before the bullet finally expended all of its kinetic force energy. It hit the ground one final time and rolled to a stop about a foot in front of where Gimsby took the shot.

“Shit. Sorry boss,” said Gimsby, sheepishly.

“No,” said Lieutenant Wolfe looking back into the chamber and seeing, as he had expected, that no damage had been caused. “I think you had the right idea. Just the wrong target. How many rounds do you got left in the Dragunov?”

“Four,” Gimsby replied. “Dragunov only has a ten round magazine.”

“Okay, big guy,” said the lieutenant. “Think you can put one of them into that?” he said, pointing into the chamber. The foot wide pulsating amethyst crystal was a quarter mile away, about 400 meters, and elevated several feet off the ground. Gimsby chose to assume a standing firing position, pressing his support arm against the wall of the entrance way as support. The alternating flashing white and blue tiles were a definite visual distraction. Sighting in on the tiny glowing target, Gimsby took three slow breaths.

Inhale. Exhale.                                                   

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

On his third exhale, Gimsby paused for a second then squeezed the trigger.

THOOM!

The amethyst crystal rocked back and forth on the pedestal, the glowing blue energy blinking on and off in rapid succession. At the same time, the floor tiles which randomly flashed from white to blue blinked on and off at the same time that the crystal was blinking on and off. Gimsby waited another second and squeezed the trigger again. The round flew straight and true slamming dead center of the crystal as it continued to rock from the first hit. This time, the crystal was knocked off the black monolith and fell straight down to the dais and shattering into millions of amethyst shards with a loud crash. Immediately, the illumination in the chamber ceased with the destruction of the crystal and the blinking white and blue lights of the tile floors faded to a plain satin white again. Visibility within the great chamber was still possible thanks to the four candelabra chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the dozen more candelabras sitting in alcoves which lined the walls. But it was nowhere near as brightly lit as before, and shadows loomed long in the dimly lit chamber.

Chief Pretty took one of his empty magazines and slid it across the tiles. It screeched across the floor and came to a stop several meters away. He then stood up and tentatively walked on the tiles towards where his magazine had come to rest, ready to dive back towards the entrance should the deadly floor show signs of life again. Thankfully, it didn’t and the rest of the team entered the chamber.

“Nice shot, there, Tex,” complimented Chief Pretty as the rest of the team joined him.

“Yeah,” said Gimsby. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d feel better if we got the hell out of here in case they got a back-up generator, or something!”

“Right, let’s move,” said Wolfe.

As the team jogged towards the yawning exit on the other side of the chamber, they were met with the heavy scent of must and mold and sweat, as if from a furred creature that had been living in a bog. This was accompanied by heavy panting and angry growls as a pack of howling black wolves standing four feet high at the shoulders and eight feet long from fanged maw to black tail, came bounding out of the opening, bright evil yellow eyes glaring hungrily at the SEALs. The team formed a defensive perimeter back to back, firing their weapons as the six dire wolves pounced on them.

The ancient, silver werewolf, the leader of this hunting pack, hunkered down behind the obsidian pedestal where the now dead crystal once stood, and watched from the shadows in anger as these men slaughtered his pack of dire wolves with their weird lances which breathed noise and fire. The ancient werewolf’s fiery yellow gaze rested on the one who seemed to be the leader of this band of warriors as he sniffed the air and memorized his scent.

Resisting the urge to leap down upon these men, to land in their midst and rip their murderous entrails out, the giant silver werewolf instead slinked unnoticed down the stairs which led up to the podium and stalked back into the shadows. As the final howls of the last of his dying pack faded into silence, the ancient silver hunter swore. “I shall return to your realm. I shall return and gather to me all the horrors of your realm which haunt your nightmares. I will provide an idyllic place of rest and comfort for you. Then, when the time is right, I shall strike. I will strike down your pack, just as you struck down mine. Then, at the shores of the haunted Moon Lake, I will turn you into my loyal pack lieutenant… Lieutenant Jake Wolfe.”

 

 

V.

Thanks to the map, the SEALs were able to navigate down through the multiple levels of the dungeon, ignoring the treasures, avoiding the traps and pitfalls, and fighting only when absolutely necessary.  At the base of this last stairwell, Nguyen said, “This is it. This is the last level. From here, the map just ends.”

The stairwell opened up into the largest chamber of them all, a dimly lit underground cavern that spanned a mile long from one end of the cavern to the other end and was a quarter mile wide. Running down the middle of the cavern was a vast black chasm three hundred feet wide which descended down, down, down into the fathomless pits. A howling wind belched up from the chasm, bringing with it the smell of Sulphur and rot.  A narrow hanging stone bridge, barely three feet wide, spanned the width of the ominous pit to hell in front of them.

“So, this is it?” said Chief Pretty.

“Looks like it, Chief,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “The map doesn’t say anything else except here at the very bottom where it says: “Copyright- Made in Doctor Creepen’s Vault.”

“Looks like the only way across is over that bridge.”

“I’ll take point, El-Tee,” said Nguyen.

“I got it, Terry,” said Gimsby.

“I’ve got point,” said Lieutenant Wolfe.

“Sir…” protested Chief Pretty.

“I said, I got point, Cory!” insisted Wolfe.

“FOOLS! The only point you will be getting is the one at the end of my great bastard sword!”

Unnoticed by the SEALs before, a great hulking figure strode out of the dim light clad in archaic heavy black armor adorned with spikes and the skulls of those it had vanquished in battle. Its helmet was massive and mounted two black elk antlers. Glowing red eyes beamed angrily from the black eye slits of its helmet and in its heavily gauntleted left hand he carried a great bastard sword which was a foot wide and as long as the dreadful figure stood tall.

“I am a Chaos Orc Anarchist Terror, or Coastie!

“I am Coastie the Guard, and I guard the ancient Bridge of More-Doom which spans the bottomless scar! Like all Coasties, I represent the greatest of all warriors and the mightiest of all military branches which serve the forces of darkness in the Realm. Kneel, United States Navy SEALs! Your pathetic breed pales in comparison to the might of the Coasties! Your quest ends here! Kneel in recognition of the superiority of Coastie the Guard and I will grant you a quick…”

THOOM!

The mighty chaos knight fell backwards from a sniper round through his great horned helmet, arms and legs encased in black armor splayed out, weapon flying into the black pit as his back hit the ground.

“Coastie talks too much,” said Gimsby without the slightest hint of regret that he fired his second to last round and was now down to only one bullet left in his Dragunov. As the team walked towards the Bridge of More-Doom, they said nothing as Gimsby pulled out his Glock 19 and shot the fallen chaos knight three more times in the head.

Back in the Dungeon Master’s throne room, Hellfire turned from the Mirror of Seeing and glanced towards another mirror mounted on the opposite wall, the mirror which allows communication to the internet in the realm which the Navy SEALs had come.

Relighting his cigar, the kitten stared into the mirror and said, “Okay now. I know you can hear me. I don’t want to see any of you noobs blowing up the comments section whining about, ‘…but the Coasties aren’t part of the military…’, or ‘…the Coasties do a very important job guarding coasts…” or some other crap like that. It’s just a story. Oh, and I also don’t want to hear a bunch of whining about breaking the fourth wall. I don’t see you bitching when Ryan Reynolds does it. Anyway, back to the show. You’re gonna’ love this next part, baby!”

“Does anyone see an opening or a passageway on the other side?” said Wolfe.

“No,” said Chief Pretty.

“Nothing,” added Nguyen.

“Alright,” said Wolfe, pulling off his pack and grabbing a coil of climbing rope. Tying one end to a heavy duty, rock climbing grade carabiner on his modular vest. Then, tossing the rest of the rope back, he ordered his SEALs, “Connect to the rope and stay within arm’s reach!”

He then pulled several chem-lights from his pack. Breaking one, the tube produced a bright, florescent red glow. Wolfe unstrapped his knife and cut the top off the tube, flicking his wrist in order to splash a line of the glowing fluid on the black bridge. A thin glowing red line marked an illuminated path about twelve feet along the narrow bridge. Satisfied that there were no pitfalls or traps along the illuminated trail, Wolfe stuffed his cargo pockets with the rest of the chem-lights and prepared to lead his SEALs across the final obstacle of the Dungeon of More-Doom.

“Hey! Look out!”

Lieutenant Wolfe turned in time to see all three of his SEALs snatched up by long, sickly brown-green tentacles which emerged from the pit and suspended in the air. Before he could bring his rifle to bear, a warm, slimy tentacle wrapped around his torso and yanked him off his feet, and lifting him up unto the air. A monstrously huge bulbous head slowly rose from the pit, resembling that of an octopus with dozens of tentacles writhing in what would be the mouth. The head was easily fifty feet tall and seemed to meld into an equally bulbous human shaped body whose shoulders measured at least one hundred fifty feet wide. Emerging from its back stretched two mottled green bat-like wings if, when outstretched, would have exceeded four hundred from clawed tip to clawed tip. The entirety of the hellish thing was covered in inky brown slime whose stench made the SEALs gag and wretch. The entity brought up the tentacles which had snared the four Navy SEALs and brought it up to its hideous face, giant yellow eyes glaring at them from under the black shadows of its overhanging brow. There was no mistaking it. This was not a mere legend created from the mind of HP Lovecraft. The thing was real. Cthulhu was real, and at this moment, Lieutenant Jake Wolfe and the rest of his men knew that there was no shooting their way out of this one.

Behind the SEALs in the passage which they had emerged, a small, white, furry thing jumped into the passage. More swiftly than the eye could perceive, the small feline leapt from the edge of the chasm up, up, and up upon Cthulhu’s great forehead.

Hellfire suddenly began to grow, transforming from a tiny white kitten into a frightful eight foot tall muscular black werecat creature with two foot long horns protruding from his skull and six inch long, razor sharp claws protruding from human looking hands. The monstrosity that was once the kitten Hellfire began rapidly slashing and gouging on the top of Cthulhu’s massive green, octopus shaped head.

“Let em’ go!” roared Hellfire as great, gooey, chunks of the elder god’s forehead went flying under the werecat’s relentless stabbing and slashing assault. “C’mon! C’mon! C’mon! Let em’ go! Put em’ down on the other side of the ledge! Gently!”

Cthulhu let out a bellowing noise which shook the entire cavern, a noise which sounded much like a whimpering moan. His wildly flailing tentacles settled down as the four tentacles which held the Navy SEALs tightly in its slimy grip eased over to the other side of the crevasse ledge.

“Atta’ boy, ya’ big lug!” growled Hellfire, as he posed like a super hero on the brow of mighty Cthulhu’s head. “Gently! Gently! Put em’ down gently!”

The elder god dropped the SEALs safely on the other side of the ledge with a soft thump. Hellfire jumped down from Cthulhu’s forehead, landing next to the SEALs in his diminutive form of a small white kitten with red tipped ears. Lighting a cigar, Hellfire growled up at Cthulhu. “Okay, you big baby! Get outta’ here! Scram! Beat it! Quit screwing around!”

The great green leviathan looked mournfully down at the kitten, his many tentacles wiggling like a puppy’s tail begging for attention.

“Ahhh, you big baby! You aren’t in trouble. Just scram, for now. We can play bobbing for hipsters later!”

Cthulhu yipped happily before slowly descending back down into the inky depths of the bottomless crevasse, the ancient elder god eager for play time later with his best friend.

“That did not just fucking happen!” exclaimed Gimsby, picking himself up from the ground and checking to see if his Dragunov had been damaged. Curiously, Hellfire was watching Gimsby closely, and seeing that the rugged sniper rifle was still fully functional, Hellfire said, “He’s not that bad. In fact, for an elder god, Cthulhu is really just a toddler. To tell you the truth, his real name is Cutie Tooth, but he still can’t pronounce the words.”

“Why did you help us, cat?” said Lieutenant Wolfe, wiping the smelly slime from his weapon and vest. “What is your stake in this whole deal?”

“What?” said Hellfire innocently. “Is that the thanks I get for bringing you to the end of this quest?”

A glowing, fiery round portal opened in the face of the rock wall, the fragrant breeze of fresh air issuing from the other side.

“C’mon, fella’s. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Not yet, cat,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “We still have some questions.”

“You need us, cat,” said Chief Pretty. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have rescued us from your little pet. We know it was you who had the power to teleport us back at the very beginning. But you didn’t. You needed us to enter this dungeon. What are you getting out of all this?””

Hellfire’s shoulders slumped as his smile faded. “Okay, okay, okay. If you really need to know the truth. I helped you guys because I felt like I owe you.”

“What?” said Nguyen. “What are you talking about?”

Hellfire signed. “Look, a while ago I visited your realm and met a girl named Annie. Sweet little girl, a real angel. She loved me, despite some pretty nasty tricks that I pulled on her. That little shit grew on me. I guess that snot nosed brat inspired me to want to be something greater than just a mean-spirited demonic little shit.”

The kitten laughed a sad laugh and actually wiped a tear from his eyes.

“I wasn’t too thrilled about her mom, though, and her mom’s boyfriend was a real piece of shit, believe me. But Annie’s dad… her real dad, he must have been something special. He was a Navy SEAL, just like you guys, and he taught her how to be kind, brave, and strong. That helped Annie survive some terrible abuse until I took care of the problem.”

“What happened to her dad?” asked Gimsby.

“He was killed in Bananastan… er, I mean Afghanistan. Anne called that hell hole Bananastan…”

“Did you get the SEAL’s name?” said Chief Pretty, still suspicious of the kitten’s story and motivations.

“No,” admitted Hellfire. “I wish I did. I do know he was an officer, and Annie’s last name is Guzman if that means anything to you guys.”

There was several seconds of silence as Nguyen, Pretty, and Gimsby suddenly looked at Lieutenant Wolfe.

“Uh… did I say something wrong?” said Hellfire, sensing the tension in the air.

The SEALs knew that their last team leader, Lieutenant Guzman, had a daughter. Her name was Annette but was nicknamed Annie. The team remained silent as Lieutenant Wolfe hefted up his weapon and moved towards the portal.

Walking past a genuinely confused Hellfire, Lieutenant Wolfe said, “Let’s move. It’s time to end this.” 

Hellfire turned and scampered after the SEALs as they passed through the flaming portal suspended in the air. “Hey wait,” said Hellfire. “Do you know Annie? Did you know her dad?”

The SEALs emerged right where they started from when they first entered the Dungeon of More-Doom, a brightly lit corridor made of flat stones which led to a more brightly lit chamber.

“So, this is it, right Chief?” said Nguyen. “We beat the dungeon boss monster so we’re free to go, right?”

“I don’t think so, Terry,” answered Chief Pretty. “We didn’t defeat Cthulhu. The kitten did.”

“Wait,” said Nguyen. “So you’re saying there is a more deadly monster…”

“My beloved champions!” said the beautiful Dungeon Master smiling warmly with outstretched arms as the SEALs emerged from the corridor and into her throne room. “I knew that you would succeed where so many others had fallen! Welcome!”

“Gimsby,” whispered Lieutenant Wolfe, suddenly stepping aside.

“Got it,” said Gimsby, bringing the Dragunov to his shoulders and firing his last round.

The Dungeon Master’s angelically beautiful face snapped back as a neat little hole appeared in the middle of her forehead. Still standing, the Dungeon Master raised a shaking hand to her forehead, feeling the blood now dripping from her wound. She looked with disbelief at the blood now running down her soft, gentle fingers, her once pristine white gown now quickly being stained red. Her breath shuddered as she stared at Gimsby…

… and then she smiled.

“You… you did it!” Her smile widened and her eyes sparked brightly from a still lovely face now covered in blood. “You did it! Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I have waited centuries for warriors such as you to finally complete my mission! Thank you!”

“And just what was your mission?” said Wolfe, trying to hide his shock and disbelief that the Dungeon Master was still standing.

“Why, to die, of course,” smiled the Dungeon Master. “Well, not die, per se, but to pass into the next plain of existence. But, alas, in order for that to happen, one who is greater than I must open the door for me to pass. And you have done it, my dear, dear, champions! In return, great riches, treasure, wealth, fame, power, and long life will be awarded to you as it had been to me.”

“Yeah, baby, yeah!” yelled Hellfire as the beautiful form of the Dungeon Master began to slowly fade. “I did it! By bringing these guys back to your throne room, I killed the Dungeon Master! I’m finally the new Dungeon Master!”

“Oh, my silly little Hellfire,” said the rapidly fading Dungeon Master. “I shall miss you most of all. But I’m afraid that you cannot be the new Dungeon Master, for it was Gimsby the Barbarian who killed me.”

“WHAT??” screamed Hellfire. “Wait! Come back here!”

“Farewell my beloved Hellfire. I pray that you serve the new Dungeon Master well. And thank you again Ranger, Cavalier, Virgin, and especially you Barbarian! God bless the United States Navy SEALs!” And that was it. Those were the final words of the beautiful and ancient Dungeon Master before she finally faded away.

Dejectedly, the kitten slowly walked to Gimsby and prostrated himself at the boots of the big Navy SEAL.

“How may I serve you, oh Master of Dungeon More-Doom?”

“Cut the crap,” grunted Gimsby. “I can’t be the Dungeon Master, you idiot!”

Hellfire looked up, confusion etched all over his face. “What…what are you talking about?”

“Only people who are from this Realm are allowed enter the Dungeon,” said Nguyen. “It’s in the fucking rule book! Everything we did here is null and void!”

“And you knew this also, you Lou Ferrigno looking motherfucker?” said Hellfire, looking up to Gimsby.

“I’ve played the fantasy role playing game a few times when we were on standby,” answered Gimsby. “Terry usually acts as the Dungeon Master. My character is a barbarian named Arnold!”

“Nerds!” yelled Hellfire. “You’re all a bunch of testosterone fueled nerds!”

“Yeah,” said Nguyen. “But we got guns and shit!”

“Okay, cat,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “That’s enough. You got what you wanted. You’re now the de facto new Dungeon Master. Now get us back to where we need to be. We still have a mission to complete.”

“Damn,” said Hellfire. “You guys are really intense. I gotta’ respect that. After all you’ve been through, you still want to go back to that hell hole and complete your mission? Why don’t you stick around a bit? Relax. Unwind. Now that I’m Dungeon Master, I can hook you guys up with the finest princesses in the Realm, or maybe females of another species if you’re into that freaky Captain Kirk shit.”

“Now, cat!” rumbled Chief Pretty.

“Okay, okay, sheesh!” Hellfire relented. “But I can’t let you go back empty handed. I gotta’ give you guys something. At least let the Virgin take a few of the prettier hobgoblins with him.”

“No thanks,” muttered Nguyen.

“You know,” said Lieutenant Wolfe. “There is one thing you can give us.”

“Name it, Wolfie boy!”

“You can erase the memory of this place and these events from my men,” answered Lieutenant Wolfe. “We already have enough on our plates as it is. They don’t need to deal with the memories of what happened here.”

“Damn,” said Hellfire in sheer awe. “You guys are like a cheap date. I mean, that’s really all you want? To forget about this place?”

“Yup,” replied Wolfe.

“Okay, fella’s. You got it. But would you do me one small favor in return?”

“What do you want, cat?” said Wolfe, anxious to get back to the mission.

Hellfire snapped his paws and a black silken pouch appeared in Lieutenant Wolfe’s hand filled with solid gold coins and several diamonds.

“If you happen to run into a freckle faced little girl named Annie Guzman, would you give this to her? And tell her that her little Charlie still loves her and misses her.”

Epilogue

Though the SEALs had turned over the clearing of the cave to the Army Cavalry and EOD guys as well as a shit ton of intel folks, there were more questions than answers in the back of the CH-47 Chinook as the SEALs rode the short ride back to Kandahar Air Field.

“I’m telling you, Hilliard,” said Nguyen. “We were only gone for maybe a minute when you came running up behind us!”

“It can’t be, Terry!” Insisted Hilliard. “I searched for you for damn near an hour! I only found you guys right before the Army guys showed up!”

“What did you mean when you said you heard us talking to some woman and a kitten?” said Gimsby.

“I don’t know,” replied Hilliard. “You tell me! You guys were the ones having the conversation! And if you guys say you were only gone for a minute, why do all your watches read 1800 hours? It’s only one o’clock in the afternoon! It’s like you were gone for five hours!”

“That is kind of strange, sir,” said Nguyen, turning to Lieutenant Wolfe. “Just like my chem-light being found half way stuck inside the cave wall as if I had dropped it at a point where we walked through solid rock. You think them Wagner Group guys that we killed had anything to do with it? Maybe some mind altering drug to fuck with us?”

“I don’t know, Terry,” replied Lieutenant Wolfe. “For now, I’d just chalk it up to the fog of war.”

Nguyen just nodded, then sat back in his seat, the steady rumbling of the Chinook suddenly making him very sleepy.

For his part, Lieutenant Wolfe looked across the cabin at his men. Hilliard sat staring at his feet, a contemplative look on his face, no doubt wracking his brain as to how he managed to walk right past his entire team in the close confines of that cave and not realize it. Nguyen’s head rested on Hilliard’s shoulder, the young SEAL fast asleep and mumbling something about not being a virgin. Gimsby also stared with a perplexed expression on his face, rotating his broken wrist and wondering how and when and why it was now as good as new. Also, why was the magazine of his Dragunov and several magazines of his Glock 19 pistol completely empty?  Chief Pretty was seated behind the fifty caliber mounted at the open back ramp of the Chinook, ever on the lookout for danger.

“My second in command,” thought Lieutenant Wolfe. “The vigilant Cavalier.”

Wolfe slowly reached into his cargo pocket, feeling the softness of the black, silken, pouch. He knew that it was filled with gold and diamonds. He knew that it was for Annie, Lieutenant Guzman’s daughter. He even knew who gave it to him and how he came to receive it. Hellfire had kept his word to the SEALs. Hellfire did exactly what he was asked to do. He erased the memories of his men, but Lieutenant Wolfe had forgotten to specify to that little son of a bitch to erase his.

SEAL Team 7

2^(nd) Plt./ 2^(nd) Sqd.

Lieutenant (LT) Jake Wolfe

Chief Petty Officer (CPO) Cory Pretty

Petty Officer First Class (PO1) Darren Hilliard

Petty Officer First Class (PO1) Paul Gimsby

Perry Officer Second Class (PO2) Terrell Nguyen

 

 

 

ANNIE AND HELLFIRE

Part One

“Hey little girl,” I meowed. “Yeah, girl! Come here! Yeah, check me out, baby! I know you like what you see. Check out these big feet. Check out my big blue eyes. Yeah, baby girl! Come closer and check out my flat face, my little pink button nose, my fluffy tail, my feather soft white fur, and my…”

“Eeeeeeeeaaaaaaarrrrsssss!” squealed the little runt as she reached down into my cage and yanked me up. “Oh, mommy! Look at this little kitty’s ears! The kitty has red ears!”

“Hey!” I said, swiping at her with my juvenile kitten claws that, unfortunately, weren’t yet developed enough to rip out the veins in her hand. “Be careful, you little shit! That’s not how you pick up kittens! Whoaaa! Put me down! Stop swinging me around!”

The snot nosed, strawberry haired, rosy cheeked little runt had her chubby little fingers wrapped around my abdomen as she swung me around, holding me up towards some lady in shorts and a crop top who I assumed was her mother. The kid’s fingers were sticky, her little white sundress with the sunflower prints stained purple from a melted grape flavored Popsicle.

“Annie, what do you have there?” said the little brat’s mom. “Oh, honey look! The little kitten has red furry ears!”

She took me from her daughter’s hands and swung me around to face this bored looking, bleach blonde pretty boy yuppie hipster in a light blue polo shirt, a khaki sweater tied around his pencil neck.

“Whoa! Put me back down before I gouge your eyes out and do obscene things to your eye sockets!” I yelled, trying to poke out her eyes with my furry little tail.

“Yeah, honey,” said bored yuppie jerk face, yawning. “White kitten with red ears. Looks almost cutely demonic.”

“Yeah, buddy!” I meowed. “That’s right! Demonic! I’m as demonic as a mother fu… Wait, did you just call me ‘cute?’ Jerk face, I’m going to enjoy ripping your guts out and…hey! Don’t give me back to your sticky fingered snot nosed daughter!”

The little brat squealed in excitement as her mom handed me back, big blue eyes giddy with wonder and joy, as her chubby little fingers reached up to grab me again.

“Ugggg,” I mewled. “I’m getting all sticky! I swear, kid, yours is the first face that I’m pushing into the blender!” 

We were at an estate sale for an elderly couple who, according to the news, were senselessly murdered during a break in. After slaughtering the elderly couple, the culprit or culprits simply dragged the bodies into the kitchen of their rather large colonial style mansion and set the kitchen on fire. Strangely, police investigators found that nothing had been stolen from the residence, although the elderly couple kept a small fortune in jewelry, precious metals, and cash in their bedroom, and no suspects to the crime could be located. There were no witnesses to the murders except for a little white kitten with pale tan stripes and curious red ears which the cops found cowering in the bedroom closet of the room which the couple had been killed.

“What’s your name, you little cutie?” said the kid they called Annie as she held me up over her head.

“Hellfire!” I snarled, looking down at her hatefully.

“What’s your name, huh, cutie?”

“Hellfire!!” I mewled again, angrily.

“You know what your name is, you little kitty cutie?”

“I said my name is Hellfire!!!” I mewled, bearing my teeth and wanting so badly to breathe fire, or at least to pee, down on this little girl’s face.

“Your name is Charlie!” giggled the annoying little snot.

“Or Charlie…” I groaned. “Hellfire. Charlie. What the fuck ever. Just get me to your house so that I can do to your family what I did to the last family.”

“Oh, mommy! Can we keep him? Can we keep Charlie, pleeeeeease?” Annie said in a voice filled with hope and anticipation.

“Yeah, how ‘bout it, toots?” I leered. “Give cute innocent little Charlie here a new home. Maybe then I can get a nice little look see at what you got under that crop top, honey!”

“I don’t know, honey,” replied the mom. “You’ll have to ask Daddy Joe.”

“Ummm, Daddy Joe?” said Annie, still holding me up but not quite so high to the late thirty-something jerk faced yuppie with the blossoming beer belly. ‘Can I…umm… can I keep Charlie?”

“Yeah, jerk face,” I mewled. “Let the little brat take the cute little kitten home!”

“I don’t know, Annie.” The guy they called Daddy Joe rolled his eyes. “You didn’t do a good job cleaning your room like I told you, and I stepped on some of your Lego’s yesterday while I was getting ready for work. You aren’t a very neat or responsible kid.  I’m not sure that you deserve a kitten, Annie.”

Annie lowered me, dejectedly. “I’m… I’m sorry Daddy Joe,” she whimpered. “I didn’t mean to.”

Annie turned me around, looking me in the face with her big blue eyes while trying to fight back tears of disappointment. “I’ll do better, Daddy Joe, if I can just have Charlie.”

Geez, I almost felt sorry for the little snot.

“Joe,” said the kid’s mom. “Annie is only four. She spends her days alone and doesn’t have many friends. Maybe taking care of a little kitten will teach her more responsibility?”

“Or maybe I’ll have to bury a dead kitten that Annie forgot to take care of, on top of everything else I have to do.” Joe turned to the kid’s mother with a look of annoyance. “Raising Annie is already an extra added burden on me, Linda. I’m already working hard to put clothes on her back and food in her belly and I feel like neither you nor her are thankful for everything that I do. And now you want me to take care of a mewling kitten, too?”

The kid’s mom, Linda, looked down and rubbed Annie’s shoulders as Annie hugged me close to her, lips pouting and tears streaming down her cheeks. Daddy Joe had spoken, and Annie’s little heart was breaking. I kind of liked Daddy Joe. He was a selfish, self centered, jerk and a man after my boss’s own heart….if my boss even had a heart.

Joe sighed heavily, as if he had just suffered crossing the beaches on D-Day, and waved over one of the young ladies who was overseeing the estate sale. “Hey, how much are you asking for this little kitten?”

The teenage girl with a name tag that read ‘Tyler’ looked at me as Annie hugged me tightly and gently stroked the fur on my head. Smiling, Tyler said, “Well, my gramma and granpa found that kitten shortly before they passed away. I don’t even think they gave him a name.”

“My name’s Hellfire, bitch!” I meowed.

“I tell you what,” said Tyler, putting her hands on her knees and leaning over. Tyler smiled broadly at Annie as she gently tugged on my ears. “I don’t even know how much to ask for this cute little kitten, but if you promise to give him a good name and a good home, I guess you can have him for free.”

“Charlie!” squealed Annie in delight as she held me up once again. “His name is Charlie!”

Then, turning to jerk face Daddy Joe, Annie said, “Can I have him, Daddy Joe? She said that Charlie is free. Can I keep him?”

Joe gave Tyler an annoyed look. Whatever price that Tyler was asking, Joe was going to use it as an excuse to say that I was too expensive to take home. “Yeah, I guess you can keep it. But you have to take care of it. I better not have to clean up after it or feed it after I get home from work. That cat is your responsibility, do you hear me, Annie?”

“Yes, Daddy Joe!” said Annie, smiling as she rubbed her cheek next to mine. “Thank you! I’ll take care of Charlie. You won’t have to worry. Yaaaay!”

“Yaaay,” I mewled sarcastically. “You’re the first one I’m going to kill!”

Joe looked over at Linda coldly. “You know that you owe me big time for this, right?” he sneered.

I could barely contain the anticipation of sending yet another household into oblivion. The last one was totally not satisfying at all. Mister and Miss Carter were an old couple and their kids were already grown and had moved out. Old Mister Carter was bed ridden and on a ventilator while old Miss Carter wasn’t doing so well herself either, having to get around using a walker. Offing them was almost like a mercy killing and didn’t score me any points with my boss.

But these people! These people were young and they had their whole lives ahead of them, and they had a kid! Sending them into the great darkness beyond was going to be considerably more enjoyable and delicious.

We left the estate sale and piled into Joe’s cherry red Porsche 911 Turbo with the six cylinder turbo charging engine and the white leather interior, Joe complaining all the way that there would be hell to pay if I messed up or scratched his seats. I thought briefly about getting the party started early and scratching up his seats just to see Joe verbally and emotionally tear down Annie again, but I decided to wait. Besides, Joe looked to be the kind of guy who would toss me out of the car without a second thought, leaving me back at square one. My boss wouldn’t be too happy with that. So, I behaved for now, while Annie gushed over me and I planned her untimely demise.

About half an hour later, we pulled into the driveway of a Hamptons style two story house in a fairly decent, upper middle class neighborhood. I was actually sort of impressed. Daddy Joe wasn’t doing too badly for himself. Bet he had a few chicks on the side since Linda seemed to have all the personality of a salmon in a bear’s mouth.

…

No sooner had we pulled into the driveway and the Porsche’s doors opened that Annie leapt out of the back seat and raced up the marble steps to the front door with me still clutched firmly in her little chubby hands.

“Yeeeeee! Charlie, let me show you your new home!”

“Remember, Annie,” said Joe as he fumbled for the house keys. “I don’t even want to smell that kitten. You are responsible for cleaning up after him. If you can’t do it, that kitten is out, understand?”

“Yes, Daddy Joe. I promise.” Annie’s legs were pumping as she stood still, impatient to get inside the house. As soon as the door opened, Annie again said ,”Yeeeeeeee!” as she ran across the foyer and across the living room to the stairs which led to her room.  Meanwhile, she was swinging me around saying, “This is the living room, that’s the kitchen, there’s our television, that’s our couch, that’s a picture of me when I was a baby, there’s the den with the pool table that belongs to Daddy Joe that I’m not allowed to go in…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, kid,” I mewled. “Where do you keep your butcher knives?  What about guns? Daddy Joe got any guns? You look like you have a big lawn. You got a wood chipper hiding in the back yard? Quit swinging me around! I’m getting dizzy!”

For the first hour at the house, I had to deal with Annie and her mother Linda as they fawned all over me until Daddy Joe told Linda to get up off her ass and make dinner.  Annie was an only child, which was rather disappointing since my boss said that offing multiple kids scored us extra points towards our annual Christmas bonus. I pretty much behaved myself as I stalked around and observed the family dynamics, Linda waiting hand and foot on Joe while Annie pretty much played alone while trying to stay in Daddy Joe’s good graces.  It was becoming a real pain trying to get away from that strawberry haired snot nosed brat so that I could scout around the house in order to formulate ways to send the family to that great, dark, beyond.  Finally fed up, I took a big dump in the middle of Annie’s bedroom floor and while Annie grabbed a bunch of paper towels and a bucket of soapy water as she cheerfully sang a song she had just made up about scrub-scrub-scrubbing the poop-poop-pooping, I was able to roam around the house.

Joe had Annie go to bed promptly at eight o’clock every night and Annie obediently obeyed, slipping a pink nightgown over her head before scooping me up and dragging me into bed with her. “I used to pray every night,” she whispered. “But one night, Daddy Joe heard me and told me to stop because it’s silly to trust in God instead of trusting in money.”

“Really?” I meowed. “Jerk face Joe told you that? Maybe he has some potential after all.”

I waited until Annie fell asleep and crept out of bed and stepped into the hallway. To the right next to the guest bedroom was Joe and Linda’s master bedroom. The door was locked and the sounds of rough sex were coming from the other side, Joe sounding as if he were having far, far more pleasure than Linda as the sound of spanking was accompanied by her yelps of pain.

“I told you that you’d have to owe me, baby!” grunted Joe.

“Yeah,” I snickered. “He might have some potential.”

The next morning, Annie awoke to find me standing outside her window which overlooked the slanting roof. I was staring at her with my big, pale blue eyes and meowing pitifully.

“Oh my goodness, Charlie,” she said as she leapt out of her bed and raced to the window. Throwing it open and raising the window screen, Annie said, “Charlie! How did you get out there, Charlie?”

I took a step back as Annie leaned out of the window, her arms outstretched. “Charlie! Oh, Charlie, be careful! I’ll come get you, Charlie! Don’t move, please!”

I stepped back even further, nearing the edge of the steeply sloping roof while Annie climbed out of the window after me. “Come on!” I thought. “Come on! Just a little bit further! That’s it, you little runt!”

“Charlie, oh Charlie, be careful, Charlie!” Annie was nearly half way out the window when she suddenly squeaked, “Charlie! Look out!”

I heard a screeching sound coming behind me and I turned just in time to see a screaming hawk bearing down on me, its razor sharp talons extended in front of it as it swooped in to snatch me away. I meowed, “Holy shit!” and leaped forwards into Annie’s arms. She grabbed me and pulled me inside of the bedroom. My heart was pounding as I turned around to see the hawk perched upon the ledge that I was just on, squawking at me before it launched itself back into the sky.

“Yeah,” I meowed. “Get the hell out of here! Jeez! I think I pissed myself!”

“Gosh, Charlie! You’re lucky that God sent down that bird to scare you back into the house or else you might have fallen and gotten hurt!”

“Yeah! God sent that bird all right, but He didn’t send it to save me, you little shit! You know, my job would be a whole lot easier, and my boss would be a whole lot happier with me, if God would just stop sticking his nose in my business!” Disgusted, I leapt down from her arms and stalked off into the house looking to find some other way to off this rotten little kid.

Later that morning, Annie and her mom left to do some shopping (after asking Joe if it was okay, of course) to buy me a litter box, a kitty collar, a scratching post, kitty toys and whatever other kitten shit that I was just going to ignore anyway since no one in the family was going to live long enough to see me use them.  They had to take an Uber since Joe didn’t want to pay for a new vehicle and the auto insurance that accompanies it. Anyway, after Annie and her mom got home, they spent the rest of the day frantically cleaning the piles of poop that I had left around the living room rug before Joe got home from work, Annie again happily singing some cheerful made up song about cleaning my kitty shit, while I lounged around on their overstuffed living room couch and licked myself.  Hey, it wasn’t my fault that they didn’t get the kitty litter box sooner!

…

The next morning was bath time for Annie. Linda had just gotten out of the shower and had finished drying her hair before filling the tub with water and bath bubbles for Annie. While Linda was in her room getting dressed, Annie was in the tub splashing about and making foaming bubbles while singing another one of her insufferably cheerful songs that she often made up. I stalked past the bathroom when I heard Annie’s happy caterwauling and had to do a double take when I saw that Linda had forgotten to unplug the hair dryer and had left it running on the counter next to the bath tub.

“Yes!” I thought, gratefully. “There is a God!”

I pushed open the door and ran into the bathroom as Annie turned and said, “Oh! Hi, Charlie!”

She had a foamy beard on her face and was waving at me with hands covered in bubbles when I leaped up on the toilet, jumped up on the sink counter and ran towards the hair dryer looking to kick it into the tub.  But, in my eagerness to make boiling juvenile soup, I accidently got my rear legs tangled up in the dryer’s electrical cord and pulled it out of the wall.  The sudden tug on my legs flipped me over as I jumped and I somersaulted in the air backwards into a bath tub filled with steaming bubble water and humiliation.

I was under water and desperately kicking my legs around, trying to get my nose above the soapy bubbles that surrounded my face like suffocating clouds. My head went back under the water once, then twice as I flopped and splashed around. Damn! How big and deep was this tub, anyway? I was starting to get really concerned because I couldn’t even find the sides of the tub when I felt fat little fingers wrap around my abdomen and lift me out of the water.

“Charlie!” giggled the little turd. “Thank you for splashing up more bubbles for me! Did you want to take a bath with me, Charlie?”

“No, I did not want to take a bath with you!” I sneezed and a soap bubble flew out of my nose.

“Leave me alone, runt!” I meowed as I swiped at her before jumping down from the tub, shaking each soaking leg as I stormed out of the bathroom. This was humiliating. I try to deep fry the kid and she ends up saving me from drowning. GAH! I hope the boss didn’t see that! Annie’s guardian angel must be pissing herself, laughing hard at my expense.

“I’ll be out of the tub soon, my silly little Charlie,” Annie said in her irritating sing song voice. “I’ll come and blow dry you after I get dressed.”

“Yeah, hurry up, you little shit! I got soap in my eyes!” I snarled as I scampered off to find some other opportunity for malicious mischief.

…

I took it easy on Annie for the next few days because I didn’t want anyone to suspect that I was trying to send Annie into the afterlife, not that her parents would notice. Joe had usually left for work by the time Annie had woken up. And for the past few days, Annie was usually asleep in bed by the time Joe had come home late from work smelling of booze and pot smoke. For her part, Linda was good for feeding Annie and getting her dressed every day, but she spent the majority of her time with her face buried in her smart phone, or sitting in front of her lap top or television.

Anyway, we were again in Annie’s bed room underneath a makeshift tent that Annie had thrown together when she tied the corners of a blanket to her bed post while draping the rest of the blanket over the back of a chair. She had her crayons out and was drawing in a sketchbook while I looked about for a way to set her tent on fire.

“Look, Charlie!” said Annie, proudly holding up the picture she had drawn. “It’s a picture of you, see? And underneath of it, I wrote ‘I love you.”

“Geez, kid,” I said, looking at the train wreck that the little snot nosed Rembrandt drew. “I look like I got run over by a Zamboni! And your writing looks like it was written by a blind, alcoholic chip monk!”

“Well, Charlie? Do you like it?”

“Nope,” I thought, as I stalked away, jumping onto her bed and licking my but while sitting on her pillow.

“Oh Charlie! You’re so silly!” Annie got up from the floor and dived into bed beside me. The sun was shining through the curtains and it was a pretty bright and decent day. It was a day where I could hear a bunch of other snot nosed little brats cheerfully playing in the street outside. I know. Where was a run-away steam roller when you needed one, right?

Anyway, while the other kids were playing outside, Annie was lying face up in bed alone, arms behind her head as the sun shined down on her little round face. Her Daddy Joe didn’t allow her to play outside because he didn’t want to pay the medical bills if Annie got hurt, and Linda, ever the doting idiot, told Annie that she could not play outside because Daddy Joe worried about her too much because he loved her. That’s it, mom. Way to raise a future introverted basket case, psycho stalker.

“You’re my bestestes friend, Charlie,” said Annie, dreamily.

“I’m your only friend, and I don’t even like you!” I thought.

Because she wasn’t allowed outside to play, every day at around this time, Annie would take a nap. I stopped licking myself and stared intently at Annie as she closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to la-la land.

“Yeah, that’s right. Close your eyes and take a nice little nap. You’ve had a long day. Rest now. That’s it. Deep breath in, deep breath out.”

When I knew that she was asleep, I stealthily crept off of her pillow and gently climbed on her chest. She was still breathing calmly as I looked down at her, the sun shining down on her round, rosy face, her lips perked up in a slight smile as she slept peacefully. I leaned down and put my front paws over her mouth and nose and pressed firmly.

“You’ll thank me later for this, kid, believe me.”

…

Annie’s mom swiped my butt, causing me to jump off Annie with an angry yelp.

“Charlie,” she scolded. “What are you doing to Annie?”

Annie suddenly opened her eyes and she giggled. “Mommy! Charlie and I were playing a game to see who can hold their breath the longest, and Charlie was just helping me win!”

“Yeah,” I meowed as I sat in the corner of the room licking my butt from where Linda had swatted me. “I was just trying to help her win the game! I wasn’t trying to suffocate your little brat”

“I see,” said Linda, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. “Well, it certainly looked like Charlie wasn’t playing nice with you!”

“Oh, mommy,” smiled Annie. “Charlie is my best friend! He wouldn’t hurt me!”

“The hell I won’t,” I thought.

“Well, go get washed up, Annie,” said her mom. “Dinner is almost ready and Daddy Joe said he was coming home from work early today to spend time with us.”

As if on cue, the front door opened down stairs as Joe yelled, “Hey! The hungry, hardworking man of the house is home! What’s for dinner?”

“I’ll be right down, honey,” replied Linda before turning to Annie and saying, “Hurry and get washed up. You know how Daddy Joe doesn’t like to be kept waiting for his food.”

Like I said, I kind of liked jerk face Joe. He had these bitches trained!

…

“Oh my God, Linda,” said Joe with a look of disgust on his face. “What the hell is this mess?”

“It’s Yankee Pot Roast,” gulped Linda. “I had it stewing for hours to get the meat tender like you like it, Joe.”

“This shit tastes like boiled shoe leather, Linda,” said Joe, slamming his fork on his dish causing little Annie to jerk in surprise as the gravy splattered across the table. “You know, I work hard all day. I don’t think that it’s too much to ask to have something decent to eat at the end of a long, stressful day at work!”

Joe slid his chair back from the table and got up to leave.

“Where are you going, Joe?” said Linda in a panic. “I can cook you something else!”

“I’m going out, Linda,” shouted Joe.

“But, Joe, you hardly spend any time at home after work anymore,” groveled Linda. “Where do you go every night?”

“I go out with the boys to blow off some steam,” Joe spat back. “You know. You tell me that you want me to spend more time with you and Annie, but then you practically kick me out of the house with your rotten cooking! If you want me to stay, you need to be a bit more considerate of my feelings!”

“I like your cooking, mommy,” said Annie, forcing a reassuring smile on her face.

“Really?” sneered Joe. “Then you eat this.” Joe slid his plate across the table, hitting Annie’s plate and splattering more gravy on her.

“I’m sorry, Annie,” whined Linda as she tried to wipe the gravy off Annie’s dress with a napkin. “This is all mommy’s fault.”

“You damn, right it is,” said Joe as he went upstairs to change out of his work clothes and into something more conducive for a night on the town with the boys. I had to admit that I applauded inwardly. The way jerk face Joe had Linda wrapped around his fingers to the point where she put Joe before her own daughter was delightfully wicked. Linda told Annie to finish her dinner as she poked at her own pot roast with obviously no appetite to eat. A few minutes later, Joe stormed back into the dining room smelling of cologne and holding up a pair of sneakers.

“Who did this? Who did this?” he yelled as he glared at Linda, Annie, and finally me. “Who the hell scratched up and pissed all over my brand new sneakers?”

“I don’t know,” I mewled, licking my claws.

“These are five hundred dollar fucking Nike Airs!” screamed Joe, throwing his precious little sneakers across the room. I yelped loudly and jumped out of the way, barely avoiding being hit by one of the projectile shoes.

“Charlie!” Annie jumped up from her seat and ran over to me. “Oh, Charlie, are you okay? Did you get hit?”

“Get away from him, Annie,” said Joe, balling up his fist. “I’m going to teach that little sack of shit a lesson.”

“Daddy Joe,” squealed Annie, crouching down and holding me close to her body, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “It’s my fault, Daddy Joe. I’m sorry! I’ll look after Charlie better! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt Charlie!”

“Yeah, jerk face,” I mewled. “Don’t hurt Charlie!” At this point I genuinely grew concerned. If Joe were to kill me, and I wouldn’t put it past him, I would be going to that fiery bad place where even my boss dreaded to be condemned. Joe was supposed to be angry at Annie and Linda, not me!

“Joe,” said Linda. “She’s just a little girl and Charlie is just a kitten!”

Joe stopped and grinded his teeth angrily. “Annie, you get your little ass up to your bedroom and stay there! I don’t want to see your face for the rest of the night! Get up there now before I get mad!”

Annie gulped as she scooped me up, her little feet pattering as quickly as they could as she ran across the dining room floor for the stairs.

“Joe…” I heard Linda say as Annie bolted up the stairs.

“And you!” yelled Joe. “I don’t want you going in to see Annie until tomorrow! I swear Linda, if I don’t see a brand new pair of one thousand dollar Nike Air sneakers in my shoe closet by the time I come home from work tomorrow, I will make you boil that damned kitten for dinner and feed it to Annie! You promised that I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit, Linda!”

“I know, Joe! I know!” replied Linda. “I’ll get you a new pair first thing in the morning!”

 

ANNIE AND HELLFIRE

Part Two

Annie slammed her bedroom door behind her and ran to her bed, crawling under the comforters, all the while whispering, “Shhh. Shhh. Be quiet Charlie. Daddy Joe is mad, but I won’t let anyone hurt my little Charlie ever again.”

To be honest, I was trembling a bit. When people like Joe get violent and let my boss take possession of their aggression, they can become unpredictable and hurt someone, namely me! Annie and I huddled quietly under the comforters until we heard the front door slam shut as Joe left for the evening.

I knew that Linda wouldn’t be coming in to comfort her daughter as Joe had strictly forbidden her to do so. After a few minutes of silence, Annie brightened up and smiled at me as if nothing had happened. Ahhh, the resiliency of innocence really was a gift that God gave to children. Annie put a finger to her lips and said, “Shhhh….”

“Hey Charlie,” whispered Annie conspiratorially as she pulled something out from under her bed. “Can you keep a secret?”

I peered curiously over the kid’s shoulder. “What you got there, kid? Is that a dirty magazine?”

“This is my daddy,” she said, producing a photograph in a simple, black picture frame. “Mommy says he was a Navy SEAL.”

“Huh, really?” I said. “That pile of chewed up bubble gum, jerk face Joe, was a Navy SEAL?”

I looked at the picture that Annie held under my head. The image showed a very well built man with rugged Hollywood-style good looks, a short beard, wavy ginger colored hair, wearing Oakley sunglasses. The warrior wore a khaki and tan colored military uniform, a vest festooned with ammunition and gear, and an M4 rifle in his gloved hands. He looked confident and determined and was far taller than jerk face Joe.

“Okay,” I thought. “So Daddy Joe isn’t your real daddy.”

Annie’s father was sitting on a bunch of rocks atop a barren mountainside overlooking an arid and desolate landscape of rock and dirt. Underneath the picture written in a black marker were the words, “I will always love you, my little Na’na. Love, Daddy.”

Annie looked down, a tinge of sadness in her voice. “His name was Ben. Mommy said he was killed fighting some very bad people in a place called Banana…ummm…Banana…Banana-nana-stan.”

“Afghanistan,” I mewled softly. “I feel for you, kid. My boss, Beelzebub, says Afghanistan is a real hell hole. He said it turned into a ghetto wasteland after God banished all the Jinn and Nephilim there.”

“I miss my daddy. He died when I was three, but I still remember him always holding me and telling me that he loves me. That was before he went to Banana-nana-stan.” Annie slid the picture back to where she kept it. “Daddy Joe, mommy’s new boyfriend, made mommy take down all the pictures and stuff of my daddy after he moved in, but I kept this one secret. Daddy Joe is okay, I guess. Mommy says he helps pay the bills and helps put food on the table and he even sometimes lets me keep nice things like you, Charlie. But I miss my daddy. I wonder why daddy had to go to Banana-nana-stan instead of Daddy Joe?”

 “I don’t know, kid.” I rubbed my head against Annie’s face as a tear ran down her cheek. “Sometimes, God sends the best of his creations to go and do the fighting. But that oftentimes leaves the lazy sacks of shit assholes to stay behind, safe and sound, to reproduce and create more lazy sacks of shit assholes.”

Annie scooped me up gently in her arms, laying me on my back as she touched her forehead to mine. Softly scratching my belly, she whispered, “You’re my best friend, Charlie. Whenever I miss my daddy, you always make me feel better.”

“Oh, shut up, you little turd,” I mewled, retracting my tiny claws before swiping at her eyes. “You’re giving me the feelings, here!”

…

Late that night, Linda received an urgent phone call from her mother saying that she wasn’t feeling well and that she was hoping Linda could be by her side until she felt better.  It was after twelve in the evening when Joe finally stumbled back to the house, but to my surprise, that ass hat Joe said that he would be happy to drive Linda to her mother’s apartment, even though it was an hour away in another city. 

“But Joe, honey,” said Linda. “What about Annie? She’s in bed asleep.”

“Don’t worry about Annie, sweetheart,” I heard Joe say in a sickeningly syrupy tone. “Your mom is what is important now. You just get yourself packed and ready while I call the babysitter. I’ll tell Annie where you are in the morning.”

I could tell that Joe was up to something, and I surreptitiously followed him around, amused at what nefarious plan he might have hatched. Seriously, the boss really loved sneaky, conniving, people like this. 

Linda kissed Joe on the cheek. “Thanks, honey. You’ve been such a blessing to me and Annie since you came into our lives.”

Lord, I nearly threw up in my mouth. About thirty minutes later, I sat at the top of the stairs, looking down as Joe opened the front door for the babysitter. Man, she was a hottie. Looking to be barely in her twenties, the tan skinned babysitter who appeared to be part white and part Latino with long curly brown hair, was wearing a short white leather skirt and white stiletto heels. She hugged Joe as she entered the house then turned to Linda. “Oh, Linda. I hope that your mom will get well soon.”

“Thank you, Carmen,” Linda said. “That’s so kind of you.”

“I’ll be here for as long as you need me,” said the babysitter, Carmen. “Is Annie asleep?”

“Yes,” said Linda, picking up the baggage that she would be taking with her to her mother’s house. “Annie is upstairs in bed. Thank you for staying with us on such short notice, Carmen. You are a life saver!”

“It’s no problem, Linda,” replied Carmen. “The semester is over so I have time until classes start again. I’m happy to sit with Annie.”

“Here, honey,” said Joe as if he were in a hurry. “Let me take these bags out to the Porsche for you. We can’t have mom waiting for you.”

“Oh, yes dear!” Linda hugged Carmen again. “Thank you for coming. There’s plenty of food in the fridge and you know where the television and guest bedroom are at, so feel at home.”

“Thank you, Linda,” said Carmen returning the hug. “And don’t worry about Annie. I’ll be here every day to take care of her while Joe is at work.”

As Linda turned to walk to the Porsche, Joe also gave Carmen a quick hug. “Yeah, Carmen. Thanks for coming.” Carmen bit his ear playfully while Joe ran his hands up the back side of her skirt.

“Of, course,” I thought, smiling to myself.

Carmen was already on her second joint thirty minutes after Joe and Linda had left the house. The doorbell rang and Carmen let some skinny thug-muffin wannabe’ rapper type into the house. After polishing off yet another joint and doing a couple lines of blow, they were both naked on Linda’s couch, going at it like rabbits on Viagra and Red Bull.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what most of you mouth breathers might be thinking. This is the part where the two of them get bloody slashed to death, just like in the movies. Nah, brah! That’s not how it goes in real life. That’s not how things work. You see, my boss doesn’t kill people who go against the will of God. My boss loves and encourages people who go against the will of God. Instead, my boss kills cops, firefighters, soldiers, Christians, Jews, conservatives, God’s prophets, unborn babies, and other people like that who piss him off. So, I let the babysitter and her lover have their fun.

Anyway, about a half hour after wannabe’ rapper thug left, Joe finally got back from dropping Linda off at her mothers. I was still on the balcony at the top of the stairs, watching as Joe walked into the house and literally tore Carmen’s clothes off, her second time in one night. Oh, Carmen, you naughty, naughty girl.

As Joe grabbed Carmen’s hands, he quickly led the butt naked babysitter up the stairs. Carmen looked down at me as they shuffled past, quiet not to disturb Annie as they tip-toed past her room.

“A kitten,” whispered Carmen. “Were you staring down at me the whole time?’

“That wasn’t the only thing I was doing, baby girl,” I mewed, leering over at the little stuffed unicorn that I dragged out of Annie’s room. “My name is Hellfire. Pleased to meet y…ouch!”

Joe kicked me out of the way, almost causing me to fall in between the banister railings. “Scoot over cat,” he grunted.

“Don’t be mean to the kitten, Joe,” said Carmen.

“Shut up, doll face,” said Joe as he literally shoved her into his and Linda’s bedroom. “If you want that nice emerald necklace that Linda’s husband gave to her, you’re going to have to make sure that daddy has a really good time tonight.” Joe pulled a bag of white powder and another bag of weed out of his pants pockets and glared at me as he closed the door to the bedroom, perhaps disappointed that I didn’t fall off the banister. Seconds later, I could hear Carmen moaning, “Oh, daddy!”

“Yeech,” I spat as I stalked back to Annie’s room. “I hope that the boss stews the both of you in the same cauldron, you jerks.”

Annie’s door was slightly ajar, but I still had to nudge it open a little farther to fit my fat head through. Jumping up on her bed, I walked over her thick, light pink comforters and stared down at the little runt as she slept peacefully. Her little mouth was slightly open and her upper teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“You know, you little sack of shit. You’re really cute when you’re not annoying and constantly pissing me the hell off. I might even decide to let you live a little bit longer.”

Annie’s eyes blinked open and she smiled sleepily. “Charlie!” she whispered. “Are you keeping watch over me? Are you my guardian angel?”

“Hardly, you dumb little idiot,” I purred. Suddenly Annie wrapped her arms around me, gently hugging me close. “Hey! What are you doing! Get your sticky little hands off of me before I rip your throat out of your…”

“Oh, Charlie,” Annie sighed, already going back to sleep. “I love you, Charlie.”

“Yeah, whatever, loser,” I growled as I snuggled up next to her, pushing my head up under her chin. “Remind me to slaughter your little ass tomorrow. After you get washed up and have breakfast.”

…

“DADDY JOE? MISS CARMEN? Where are your clothes? Where’s mommy?”

“Oh, shit,” I said as I leapt out of Annie’s bed. Somehow that little bucket of puppy turds woke up and got out of bed without me noticing. God damned second hand pot smoke! I ran out of Annie’s room in time to see Carmen scurrying past Annie down the hallway towards the stairs, clutching her clothes and Linda’s necklace tightly to her chest. Joe followed after her, yelling, “Where are you going, you bitch?”

Joe stumbled out of the bedroom after Carmen, white powder on his nose and upper lip, his hands reaching out to Carmen clumsily as she ran down the stairs. A line of white powder still stuck to Carmen’s sweaty naked butt. Joe stopped halfway down the hallway and stared with angry bloodshot eyes at a confused little Annie. Thankfully, for Annie’s sake, Joe was wearing a bath robe that barely covered his beer gut. Annie just stood there in her little light pink flannel night gown with the flowery butterfly pattern, her mouth open and her big blue eyes wide with confusion.

“I told you last night to get in your room and stay there, Annie!” bellowed Joe.

“But Daddy Joe, its morning time and why was Carmen not wearing any clothes?”

“Get in your room now,” yelled Joe. Annie yelped and turned to go back to her room while Joe retreated back to Linda’s bedroom, fetching the belt off of his pants.

Annie bolted back into her bedroom, yelling, “Where are you, Charlie? Charlie? Hide, Charlie! Hide!”

A sharp, snapping sound struck Annie on the back of her night gown and she tumbled into her bed, her feet flopping behind her. Joe’s belt whipped down again on the back of Annie’s legs and she screamed out in pain as it snapped against her skin.

“Daddy Joe, stop!” she begged. “That hurts!” Tears flowed down her cheeks as her face contorted in pain and confusion.

“Are you going to tell mommy that Carmen was in her bed, Annie?” yelled Joe, cracking the belt once more. Annie screamed again. “Are you going to be a little snitching bitch and tell your mother?”

“Please, Daddy Joe,” she cried. “What did I do?”

“I got a good thing going here,” raged Joe, raising the belt again.  “Your real daddy left you and your mommy with this nice big house and his big fat military life insurance policy pays for my Porsche and my bills. Hell, I don’t even have to go to work! I just fuck around all day! You aren’t going to ruin that for me by snitching, do you hear?”

I sat at the foot of the bed, watching as a grown man whipped a helpless, innocent little girl. And as I watched, I knew that I should have been happy. I am, after all, an evil hellcat, and my boss is Beelzebub. This is the kind of shit that my boss loves seeing, the wicked and deceitful preying upon the innocent and helpless. But the more I watched, and the more I heard little Annie scream, the more I felt this emotion welling up inside of me.  It was something I couldn’t explain.

The belt snapped down again with a wicked crack, and Annie’s screams turned to painful moans. She was lying on her tummy on top of her bed; face down, when her crying eyes finally met mine. “Charlie?”

Joe sneered down at me. “Charlie? You mean your fucking guardian angel, Charlie? A lot of good he’s doing you now! What the fuck are you going to do, you little runt? When I’m done teaching Annie here a lesson, I’m going to rip those little red ears off your head, Charlie!”

“Charlie,” shuddered Annie. “Close your eyes, Charlie. Don’t look, Charlie. Close your eyes. I’ll be with my daddy, soon.”

Suddenly, I realized what it was that I was feeling. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t disgust. And it wasn’t hate. It was something that grew and festered inside of me like a virus ever since I first laid eyes on Annie. It was something that could overcome all the demonic spirits which had possession of me. It was the enemy of all things evil.

It was love. It was the reason why Annie saved my life twice, even as I was trying to murder her.

“No, Annie!” I yelled, sobbing. “You close your eyes!”

“Charlie?” whimpered Annie. “You can talk?”

 

“You can talk?” gulped Joe.

 

“I can do more than that, you sick son of a bitch!” I growled. “Annie, sweetheart. Please, close your eyes. You shouldn’t see this.”

 

“Okay, Charlie.” Annie said meekly, pressing her little hands to her face.

…

Later that morning, Annie’s mother, Linda, got a phone call from the cops stating that her boyfriend Joe had apparently physically abused Annie in a fit of cocaine rage. Then, for some inexplicable reason, Joe got into his Porsche and promptly ran it directly into a thick, metal, stoplight going at speeds in excess of 80 miles an hour. The impact of the crash spun his Porsche out into the middle of the busy highway intersection where Joe was immediately t-boned by a giant eighteen-wheel, flatbed semi truck. The three huge, concrete sewer drain sections which the truck had been hauling broke loose from their chains and each rolled over Joe’s already crushed Porsche, flattening it even more like a grilled cheese sandwich with Joe resembling the melted cheese which oozed out the sides. Then, before any of the shocked eye witnesses could even call 911, a bolt of lightning reached down from the clear morning blue skies, striking the heap of metal and chrome and crushed flesh, charring everything to ash. I had to chuckle to myself when the late night television news later reported that Joe’s untimely death was ruled, ‘an act of God.’

 

“Ahh, you people don’t know the half of it,” I purred. “God don’t play when He gets pissed off.”

 

Anyway, Linda borrowed her mother’s minivan and quickly drove all the way back home. She found Annie safe and sound in a secured room at the children’s hospital where Annie was lying in a bed gently stroking her little kitten Charlie. The doctors told Linda that Annie had padding and bandages on her from the bruising on her buttocks and thighs she had suffered from Joe’s physical abuse, but that Annie would eventually make a full recovery. They were especially concerned with Annie’s mental state after the trauma she had suffered. When the police, fire department and EMT came to the house, Annie absolutely refused to go to the hospital without her kitten Charlie, even though she was in great pain.

 

The doctors reported that Annie insisted that Charlie began talking to her and told her to shut her eyes tightly while Joe was beating her. Annie said that she did as she was told, so she didn’t see what happened to Joe. But she did hear slashing noises and Joe begging and pleading for forgiveness while Charlie yelled ‘…and this is from her dad, you fucking dirtbag!’

 

“Yeah, I did say that,” I thought, licking my paws the same way I licked Joe’s throat off my paws before I stuffed his loser ass into his Porsche and sent him on his merry way down the boulevard.

 

“Ma’am,” said the female child protective services representative. “Is Annie exposed to adults who curse a lot? Is there a history of violence in your household?”

 

“I… no!” said Annie’s mom. “I’ve never had to raise my voice or spank my daughter and her father… her real father, I mean, had always treated her gently and lovingly. He never hurt her.”

 

“I see,” said the CPS representative, looking dubiously at Linda. “And where is Annie’s father now?”

 

“He was killed in Afghanistan last year,” she answered. “He was a Navy SEAL.”

 

The look of distain on the CPS representative’s face didn’t go unnoticed by me. She had the look that said, “So, your husband was killed in Afghanistan a year ago and now your new live-in boyfriend is beating the crap out of your little daughter. Nice.”

 

I yawned again as the CPS representative and Annie’s mom blah, blah, blahed some more about shit that I could give less than a damn about. The pain medication that they gave Annie was starting to take affect and I curled up in a ball on her lap as the annoying little angel drifted off to sleep. Afterwards, the cops came to take Linda’s statement and to give her the good news that her live in ex-beau Joe wasn’t a military veteran turned highly paid Department of Defense contractor like he had claimed. Rather, Joe was in fact a paroled, unemployed, ex-con who had worked as a crisis actor for the DNC and was now trafficking in drugs and stolen merchandise. 

 

A few days later, they finally released Annie from the hospital to come home and, a few months later after Annie had celebrated her fifth birthday, Annie was on her way to her first day of school. Much to everyone’s relief (especially mine), in the months after her ordeal, Annie seemed to forget everything she had said about me being able to talk and telling her to shut her eyes while I carved up Joe ‘Wolverine-style,’ though Annie had taken to calling me ‘Charlie, her guardian angel.’ 

 

Yeah. Imagine that. Me! A guardian angel! Eh, I’m not a real guardian angel, but I’m working on it. There’s a whole application process that you have to fill out to become a guardian angel, online classes I have to take because of Covid, and I still needed to wait for a few weeks until certain substances left my blood stream before I could take the urinalysis test. Plus, more than likely, God would probably have me on an extended probation period due to my past…umm… indiscretions. As you can imagine, my change in attitude didn’t sit too well with my ex-boss, Beelzebub, but screw him. His retirement benefit package sucked.

 

Anyway, I accompanied Annie to her bus stop the morning of her first day of school to make sure that she got on the right bus on time, as well as to snoop around and see if there were any snot nosed little future Daddy Joe’s who needed a come to Jesus moment about respecting little girls. Annie wasn’t nervous at all that this was her first day at school. In fact, she was terribly excited as she skipped along the sidewalk wearing the green t-shirt and tan skirt of her school uniform, her big ears sticking out from under her red hair which had been tied up in a flowery pink bow. Lunch box in hand and tiny back pack on her back, Annie was singing a song she had just made up about petting unicorns, seeing dinosaurs, and riding airplanes, which I guess is what you do on your first day of school.

 

Well, you could imagine my surprise when Annie burst into her room later that day, tears filling her eyes as she threw her lunch box and book bag to the floor and jumped on her bed, burying her face into her pillow. Annie’s mother was taking college classes in order to get a good paying job after she finally realized that being a submissive little pion to an abusive, cheating, lying, jackass boyfriend wasn’t a good parenting strategy. Linda wouldn’t be home for another half hour so she had given Annie the keys to the house for when Annie got home from school. Linda, like most single parents, was looking for a new after school babysitter for Annie after someone had apparently cut the brake lines on Carmen’s car which caused her to go speeding off the side of a cliff. Tragic story, that was. Heh…heh…heh…

 

“What’s wrong, Annie?” I meowed, jumping up on the bed and nuzzling her cheeks with my nose. “What happened at school?”

 

Annie reached over and hugged me close to her, snot and tears running down her face and onto my fur. “What did I do, Charlie? I don’t know what I did wrong!” she sobbed.

 

“Annie,” I meowed, trying to soak up her tears with my paws. “What happened?”

 

“Some kids at school said that I have white pib-bib-blibs,” Annie sobbed. “They said that they were happy that my daddy was killed in Banana-nana-stan, and that all kids with unfair pib-bib-blibs like me should all have their daddies killed.”

 

“Oh, Charlie,” she said, squeezing me tighter. “Why are they so mean? What did I ever do to them? I don’t even know what having white pib-bib-blibs means!”

 

“White privilege,” I meowed, rubbing my head on her cheeks. “It’s a phrase that was invented by my ex-boss to instill strife and hatred into the weak minded who have been indoctrinated to blaming others for their own bad decisions and also to rob children of their innocence and hope for the future.”

 

I wrapped my paws around Annie’s neck, but unlike before, it wasn’t to choke her. “Its okay, Annie. Your Charlie is here. Why don’t you just lay here and rest a bit. Yeah, that’s right. Close your eyes and take a nice little nap. You’ve had a long day. Rest now. That’s it. Deep breath in, deep breath out.”

I lay on her chest, purring a lullaby as I felt her breathing slow. After I was sure Annie was sleeping soundly, I extended my claws, three inches of razor sharp, metal hardened talons. “Okay, let’s pay a little visit to these friends of yours, shall we? “ I looked down at the sleeping little girl, gently touching her cheek with the horns that had sprouted from my forehead. “Your Charlie is here, and I’m going to make sure that no one hurts my little Annie ever again.”

Like I said, I’m not a guardian angel. Not yet, anyway. I still have a lot of work to do to in order to become a forgiving, merciful, guardian angel… starting tomorrow. BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

 

Long time, no scary spaghetti, dear Dr. Creepen fans!

Anyone for a new Taxi_Dancer tale?

Cheers, T_D