Instead of the black void of death before respawning, Father found himself in a different perspective. He had no body, and really no sensations at all. He didn’t have a shell, yet he knew the water was moving and the cold chill it left on his shell. He knew the odor that came with Doctor Holo and the feel of the slimy kelp. He was both there, fighting Doctor Holo and watching himself square off against the sea cucumber from high above.

  Father had heard of an out of body experience, but this was different. This was intentional. He wasn’t just seeing things and his brain wasn’t creating some imaginary scenario. This was moments before he died on his 36th run.

  Doctor Holo launched the column of waste at Father, and instead of dodging or thinking, Father let it hit him and activated an ability.

  The column crushed Father. He watched his own shell shatter into dust that was washed away in the current. Nothing lobster-like was left of Father when the column finally came to a halt. Chunks of mottled meat and organs clung to the chalky brown sides of the column and drifted listlessly from above.

  He was dead, and for a moment, he thought he had failed. There was no respawn. No prompt asked him to return to the start or checkpoint. A horrible end, if that was truly it.

  But Father understood. He felt that familiar ping in his arm the moment his past self died.

  Call

  Doctor Holo wailed as an impossibly strong, impossibly fast impact smashed into his entire body. The attack was perfectly reflected, and since the column was bigger than Father and hit every possible part of his body, Doctor Holo felt the same impact on his entire body.

  The sea cucumber rolled and flailed with blood pouring from every orifice. The damaged bush-like tentacles twitched, matching Doctor Holo’s cries.

  2nd Checkpoint Boss

  Doctor Holo

  Defeated.

  “What now?” Father asked. He had no mouth to speak from, yet he heard his voice in the emptiness around him. The scene of his death and Doctor Holo’s defeat faded until only the void in between returned.

  Return to Checkpoint 1 or Return to Start?

  It made sense that checkpoint 2 wasn’t an option. If he returned to the point in which Doctor Holo died, Father would respawn as dust and chunks of meat. No class or attribute was going to help him continue his revenge in that state.

  Gamble wasn’t going to help Father get to his Son. There were too many aspects that weren’t clear. Using divine could help him see what was coming next, but if his attributes or weapons weren’t up to the task, knowing he was about to be killed wasn’t beneficial. He wanted to be able to do something about it.

  And as helpful as high luck had been, it was time to try a new approach. There were still too many things that could go wrong with luck. He wasn’t up to beating a boss without increased speed and strength. He needed to be faster, smarter, and stronger to survive.

  Returned to Start.

  Beginning Run 37.

  Debuff: Cholera

  You were killed by feces. You are infected with cholera.

  Set Attributes.

  Father pulled away from the steering wheel and sighed. His stomach rumbled and the creeping horror of diarrhea threatened to escape. He immediately climbed out of the car and dropped his shorts. There was something horrible about releasing diarrhea into the water like some child who forgot his diaper, but Father couldn’t be bothered. He needed to die.

  “Disgusting!” The lobster said as he approached with his baseball bat. “Hey, aren’t you the Father of the—”

  “Shut up and fight me.” Father raised his claws.

  Strength 50

  Endurance 0

  Agility 0

  Intelligence 0

  Luck 0

  “Uh.” The lobster lifted the bat. “I don’t know about fighting a naked shellfish. Seems immoral.”

  “Immoral? Are you joking?” Father groaned and hunched as another bout of diarrhea ravaged his system.

  The lobster took a step away. “I don’t know what that car crash did to you, but I don’t want any part of it. Get that shit away from me.” He chuckled. “Ha, funny. But, uh, disgusting.”

  Father shuffled closer with his claws still raised. “Saying it’s immoral to fight a naked sea creature when you willingly kidnap someone is ridiculous. I’ve killed dozens of people and I have no intention to pretend I’m above it. I’m not better than you even if my goal is just. I’ll kill every bottom feeder without hesitation to save my Son.” He grunted as a little more diarrhea leaked from underneath his tail. “Right now, I’m going to die so I can get rid of this debuff. But I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be back in a minute to bash your head in and kill the pigfish that will get here in a few minutes.”

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  The Hardbody Crustacean lobster let the bat drop. “What are you saying?”

  “You need to shut up and hurry up.” Father walked over and punched. His arm exploded from the overwhelming strength.

  The lobster cartwheeled away until he hit a nearby house. A poof of chitin, meat, and broken glass was all Father saw before he collapsed.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t quite dead. Pain lanced through the last shreds of nerves from his arm and into his shoulder and chest. Cracks spread through his torso.

  Death couldn’t come soon enough. Father forced himself up on one arm and smashed his skull down. Luckily, the increased strength translated into all parts of his body.

  Father’s brains splattered across the street.

  Returned to Start.

  Beginning Run 38.

  Set Attributes.

  There was some strategy he could try. What that might be was as much a mystery to Father as whatever might lay beyond Doctor Holo.

  Strength 05

  Endurance 10

  Agility 05

  Intelligence 25

  Luck 05

  It was time to try something entirely new. Well-rounded with a focus on intelligence. Thinking through some of his problems with a better brain would hopefully open some new ideas, but more than anything else, he wanted to be a wizard.

  Father rushed out of the car and kicked the lobster in the face before he could even fully stand. The Hardbody Crustacean member gasped and crawled on the floor. Father grabbed the bat and beat the lobster into a pile of shredded meat.

  “Immoral,” Father muttered. He kicked what was left of the creature. “Here we go.”

  By the time the pigfish arrived, Father was ready. He pulled the first out of the car, smashed in his head, took the gun, aimed, and killed the second officer.

  Luck was a crutch. It had made things so simple, but Father didn’t need it simple. He had practiced. He knew what he was doing.

  Before long, Father parked in front of Trash Co. He watched the receptionist through the front door and thought about the operation. Isopods ran the garbage trucks. Most of the little creatures didn’t seem knowledgeable about the criminal side of the business, as far as Father could tell.

  Despite the majority of employees for Trash Co. not being involved in the Hardbody Crustacean side of things, Mister Logs was still very much the leader of the gang within the modestly deep trench.

  The only other person that could know anything about it was the receptionist.

  Father marched into the lobby and right up to the counter. He grabbed the receptionist by the collar and pulled the fish close. He pressed the handgun’s barrel against the fish’s head.

  “Is there anyone else in the trench that works for the Hardbody Crustaceans?”

  The receptionist whimpered and tried to pull away. Father let his claw click against the trigger as he pressed the barrel more firmly against the fish’s head.

  “Other than Mister Logs, who works for the Crustaceans?”

  Another whimper.

  “Last chance,” Father said.

  “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.” The receptionist seemed to fold up, curling its fins close to its chest. “I don’t want to die.”

  Father pushed away the memories of killing the receptionist from his mind. What good would it do to mention that right now?

  “The, uh, the mayor.” The fish pointed with a single fin toward the main street in the trench. “The mayor took bribes from Mister Logs. He might work with the Crustaceans more. I don’t know.”

  Father pulled the trigger and let the fish smack onto the desk. By the time he reached the hall of isopod offices, they were already scrambling from the gunshot. Father ducked as the snow crab stepped out of an office with the shotgun. A spray of buckshot flew overhead. From his low position, Father fired and hit the crab in both knees. It wasn’t necessarily what he was aiming for, but it was an odd position and it was effective enough. He walked over, snatched the shotgun, and stomped on the snow crab’s head.

  His isopod lover stood horrified just inside the office door. Father aimed the handgun at the small spot between its black beady eyes.

  “Please.”

  Father rolled his eyes, shot, and walked out of the hallway. Instead of going to Mister Logs, Father got in his car and drove a block back to the main street. Carrying a shotgun would draw a lot of attention, but having handguns shoved down his shorts wasn’t any less conspicuous.

  City hall was a fine, if somewhat unimpressive building sandwiched between two delis. It was made primarily of old stone, but had grown from barnacles and fungi over decades.

  Father stopped his car right in front and eyed the pigfish standing out front. A guard was probably normal for the building, but Father immediately assumed it was another pigfish in the pocket of the Crustaceans.

  The pigfish analyzed every bit of the police car, clearly confused that a lobster was driving it. Father waved him over. As soon as the pigfish stuck his head in the window, the shotgun turned the fish into a cloud of blood. Father made sure to grab ammo on his way past the corpse.

  Once inside, he aimed at the receptionist.

  “Where’s the mayor?”

  The receptionist was a clam. Father was surprised anyone would even hire a clam. They were useless without real limbs. It took them forever to get anywhere.

  “Who are you?” the clam asked. “Are you with them?”

  “Which office?” Father spotted a sign with directions to the mayor’s office, the city council chamber, restrooms, and a vending machine. He grabbed the phone from the receptionist’s desk and chucked it across the room. “Good luck.”

  The clam swore repeatedly and started its slow trek to retrieve the phone and call for help. It wouldn’t matter. Father planned to be long gone before the mollusk could be useful.

  Arrows guided him through the old building to the mayor’s office. A quick knock was answered with some muted response. Father cracked the door.

  “Come in,” the mayor repeated.

  Father opened the door the rest of the way.

  A translucent blue creature in a black suit sat behind a desk in a long, narrow room. Its desk was small with only a simple computer and a stack of papers. The mayor leaned forward, putting hands made of long, wavy tentacles onto the table.

  “I’m Mayor Borokurk. How can I help you?” the mayor asked. Little navy blue eyes snapped to the guns. “Interesting.”

  A jellyfish was said to be a dangerous creature. Father knew little about the mayor of the trench. He hadn’t even voted in the last elections. The textured ridge running down the center of its head and the curling tentacles helped Father identify it as a bluebottle jellyfish, which could deliver a painful sting. Or so he’d heard. Maybe it was political slander from the last election.

  “You work with the Hardbody Crustaceans?” Father asked. He lifted the shotgun and aimed. “You’re part of that bottom feeding scum?”

  The mayor slowly stood and shuffled on tentacles bundled together to act as steady, circular feet. “You’re the Father, aren’t you? I’m glad the little operation was successful. So, where’s the money, lobster?”

  Father pumped the shotgun. “I’m not paying you a cent. I’ll kill you, then kill Logs, Holo, and everyone else.”

  The jellyfish moved a hand to rest on the hilt of a weapon at its side. “How do you know them?”

  “I’ve killed them before.” Father grinned. “It took some practice.”

  There was no expression to read on the jellyfish’s face. It had no face, and the eyes weren’t expressive enough to get any sense of thoughts or emotions. But based on the way it drew the katana, Father assumed Mayor Borokurk was angry.