Noise hit the stairwell first.
Wet slapping sounds. Thousands of bare feet striking concrete. Then the smell arrived. A physical wall of rot, unwashed bodies, and copper blood pushed up the throat of the building, overriding the sterile ozone of the Reaper motors.
Alex stood on the Floor 21 landing. He looked down through the steel grating. AA-12 rested against his hip. Inferno Gauntlet hummed on standby.
He pulled a silver flask from his vest. Unscrewed the cap. Expensive bourbon cut the stench of death.
"Grand opening," Alex whispered. He took a sip.
Below, on Floor 20, twin Reaper turrets waited. Ugly, industrial tripods welded from scrap steel. Topped with high-torque elevator motors.
But the blades... translucent shards of nightmare.
Queen's Chitin. Harder than diamond. Sharper than molecular wire.
They spun at 2,000 RPM. A localized windstorm sucked dust into the vortex. Invisible discs of death.
SCREEE!
A Ghoul crested the stairs.
Runner. Grey skin pulled tight over wire-frame muscles. Jaw unhinged. Rows of jagged, yellow teeth exposed. It saw the open landing. It saw the warmth.
It didn't see the air shimmering at shin height.
It lunged.
THWACK-MIST.
Zero resistance.
The Runner's shins hit the lower blade. Chitin didn't just cut. It atomized.
Bone shattered into powder. Red mist sprayed the wall.
The Ghoul's upper body kept moving. Momentum carried the torso across the linoleum on a slick of its own black blood. Feet remained planted on the step.
It clawed at the tiles. Confused. Shrieking.
Then it hit the second Reaper's kill zone. Waist height.
ZRRRT.
The torso disintegrated. The upper blade caught it mid-slide. Not a cut. Erasure. Freezing gore painted the wall in a perfect, horizontal line.
[System Notification]
[Target Eliminated: Ghoul (Runner)]
[XP: +1]
[EP: +1]
"One." Alex swirled the bourbon.
Then the dam broke.
They surged. A tidal wave of grey limbs and gnashing teeth. Pressure from behind forced them up. Hydraulic hunger.
Reapers roared.
Not a battle. Industrial processing.
The first row hit the blades. CHOP-CHOP-CHOP. Legs severed instantly. Bodies fell forward. Meat ramp created.
The second row climbed over the fallen. They hit the waist-high blades. SPLAT.
Heads flew. Arms spun through the air like discarded toys. The stairwell turned into a blender filled with rocks and tomatoes.
Black blood didn't pool. It sprayed. Centrifugal force flung the gore outward. Walls, ceiling, floor coated in thick, freezing slush.
[System Notification]
[+1 EP]
[+1 EP]
[+1 EP]
[+1 EP]
Blue text cascaded down Alex's retina. A waterfall of profit.
He watched the slaughter. Eyes cold. Detached. Yesterday, he fought for every point. He bled for currency.
Now? He stood still.
The Geothermal Pylon on Floor 24 fed infinite power to the motors. The Queen's Chitin didn't dull. Physics did the heavy lifting.
"ROI," Alex muttered. "Return on Investment."
[Current EP: 156]
[Current EP: 204]
[Current EP: 310]
The meat pile grew. A physical barrier of severed limbs. Blades chewed through it. Chunks of frozen meat tumbled down the stairs, tripping the Ghouls behind.
Messy. Grotesque. Beautiful.
"Keep coming," Alex said. "Daddy has bills to pay."
He checked thermal readouts. Motors ran hot. Luna's cooling fins held.
Horde count: Three thousand. At 1 EP a head, he buys the M203 Grenade Launcher and a crate of ammo tonight.
Passive income. Sleep-money.
Alex leaned against the railing. Vibration from the massacre rattled his boots.
Then, the rhythm changed.
Frenzied shrieks died down. The surge faltered. Meat-grinder motors spun freely, cutting only air.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the darkness below. Not slapping feet. Heavy, measured thuds of leather boots.
CLANK. CLANK.
Metal dragged against the handrail.
Alex straightened. Flask stowed. AA-12 stock pressed into his shoulder.
"Shift change," Alex noted.
Out of the gloom of Floor 19, a massive shape emerged.
Not a Runner. Tattered, moldy grey suit strained against bloated muscles. Face a ruin of grey flesh. Eyes burned with distinct, cunning yellow light.
A massive ring of keys gripped in a fist the size of a cinder block. Rusting. Jingling. Heavy.
[System Warning]
[Elite Enemy Detected: The Keymaster (Level 4)]
[Role: Siege Breaker]
[Ability: Structural Bypass]
The Keymaster ignored the Reapers. It ignored the meat pile.
It looked at the wall next to the stairs. Specifically, the red steel door labeled FIREMAN'S ELEVATOR - DO NOT USE.
It raised the key ring.
"Oh no you don't," Alex hissed.
It wasn't charging the kill zone. It was unlocking the back door.
The key slid into the triangular lock.
GRIND.
Rust shrieked. Iron flakes peeled away. The mechanism hadn't turned in years. The Keymaster didn't care. Its wrist twisted. Hydraulic torque against old metal.
Alex didn't wait for the click.
He jammed the AA-12 barrel through the floor grating.
"Eviction notice."
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.
Dragon's Breath vomited from the ceiling. A waterfall of magnesium fire washed over the Elite.
Grey polyester suit vaporized. Skin blistered, popped, and blackened. The stench of cooking pork fat choked the stairwell. Thick. Greasy.
The Keymaster didn't scream. It didn't flinch. Siege Breaker trait: Pain suppression. Knockback immunity.
It burned in silence. Hand locked on the key.
CLICK.
Tumblers fell.
HISS-THUNK.
Red elevator doors groaned. They slid open six inches.
Cold, stale air blasted the burning hallway.
Not a door. A highway. The fireman's shaft ladder ran straight to the roof. If the Horde entered there, they bypassed the Reapers. They bypassed the Corpse Wall. They would pour into the Penthouse lobby like tap water.
Runners saw the gap. They abandoned the kill zone. They scrambled over the burning Elite, squeezing toward the opening.
"Wrong door," Alex growled.
He vaulted the railing.
Agility 5.0.
He dropped twelve feet. He didn't bend his knees. He used his boots as hammers.
CRACK.
Boots hit the Keymaster's shoulders. Collarbones shattered. The sudden weight drove the giant to its knees. The key ring rattled violently.
Alex didn't wait. He wrapped his legs around the burning torso. Right hand grabbed the jaw. Left hand grabbed the base of the skull.
The Inferno Gauntlet whined.
"Look at me."
He twisted.
The Keymaster roared. Wet gravel grinding in a mixer. It tried to stand. To buck the rider.
Alex triggered the pilot flame.
WHOOSH.
A jet of blue fire shot point-blank into the ear canal.
The roar died. The head became a pressure cooker. Vitreous fluid flash-boiled. Brainpan pressurized.
POP.
The back of the skull blew out. Grey matter and bone fragments sprayed the elevator door.
Massive body went limp.
[System Notification] [Target Eliminated: The Keymaster (Level 4 Elite)] [XP: +800] [Loot Dropped: The Master Key Ring]
Alex rolled off the corpse. A Runner lunged. He kicked it in the chest. It flew back into the Reaper's blade. SPLAT.
He snatched the heavy brass key ring.
He slammed the elevator doors. Jammed the Master Key into the lock. Twisted back.
CLUNK.
Locked.
He turned around.
The Horde still came. They climbed over the burning body of their leader. No strategy. Just heat-seeking meat.
Alex checked the Reapers. Blades churned black slush. The meat pile reached waist height.
He walked past the turrets. Boots sticky with gore. He climbed to Floor 21.
He checked the balance.
[Current EP: 3,250]
Keymaster paid 500. Fodder filled the rest.
He sat on the concrete steps. Reloaded the AA-12. Spent drum hit the floor. Fresh Hate clicked in.
He pulled the flask.
"Passive income," Alex whispered.
Below, the Reapers spun. The Horde screamed. The account balance ticked up.
[+1] [+1] [+1]...
He closed his eyes.
He slept.