Misery loves company.

  "How do you stand this?"

  Brom glanced over at Quincy, watching as the man desperately tried to wipe the coagulating blood off himself. His once bouncy hair was a flat mat that looked like it was pure misery. Brom took the opportunity to push his own hair back, slicking it down in a way that had become an unfortunate habit over the last few days.

  "Not a day has gone by since the System took over that I haven't spent a good portion of it covered in unmentionable liquids. You eventually start getting used to it." He could tell that wasn't what the other man had wanted to hear. Unfortunately, that was the only answer he had to give. "It's hell on the wardrobe though, hopefully that uniform you guys wear launders well."

  He shimmied past them on the narrow walkway, poking his head through the hole in the wall. The air was cleaner. More of the salt and rot, less of the oil and rust and blood. It was definitely the way they were supposed to be heading, that blue-green glow from earlier was back. He stepped out of the way, keeping his eyes on the floor to make sure that he wasn't crossing any of the 'start encounter' lines.

  Dude, you guys almost bit it back there. Good job! Viewers were starting to get bored, and that little bit of tension reeled them right back in. Won't work for future runs, though, so start thinking about how to shovel flashy, huh?

  The last thing Brom wanted to do was figure out how to make heavy labor look fun and interesting. His back was still protesting louder than a middle-aged woman who'd been given the wrong coffee order at Starbucks.

  "You okay there, big guy?" Jonesy patted him on the shoulder, offering a moment of familiar comfort. The Sargent was pretty good at this team stuff, Brom had to admit.

  "Eh, fatigue comes for us all. Even someone built like a brick shithouse. Thankfully, we've only got that last boss to deal with, it looks like." He rolled one shoulder and then the other, flexing his neck and listening to everything pop.

  Logan laughed. "Yeah, try not to sneeze on this one, huh? We've got to note mechanics and transitions to put in the report." He put up his fist, knocking knuckles with Brom before falling in on the left.

  He held up his hands, grinning as he started walking backwards down the tunnel. "I'll be good! Cross my heart and hope to cry." Nobody corrected Brom. You didn't kill the trump card while surrounded by unknown dangers.

  "You know, I've got a question. I always guessed that you were using fists because those were the weapon of choice for a Barbarian. But then you went and headbutted that guy, do you just not have a weapon? Like, was it just missing from your starting gear?" Logan's question was pretty innocent, just honest curiosity, but Brom's following silence made it awkward. "Wait, did you not get starting gear?"

  "Remember how I said the System was kinda shit to me in the tutorial? Yeah I've just been using the good old Mark 1 meat mitts to deal with anything that's come my way. I've never actually tried to use anything else." Could he use weapons?

  Oh duuuuuude, she didn't give you the Starter Pack? Oh, that's like a major breach of protocol. Man, the more I hear about your stuff, the more I'm impressed you've made it this far. Like, yeah, you got stupid lucky, my man, those Passives are nothing to laugh at. Plus, being a legendary class means all your native active skills are legendary progression by default- Sorry, rambling. But yeah, getting those big rewards and the Viewer bonus from your Event dungeon are comin' in clutch. Then again, it's only like what, the fourth day? It just seems longer, I guess. Anywho, you keep on keepin' on, my dude. We'll talk later!

  This System was chattier than the last one. Seemed a little scattered, but that's what happened when you sounded like you were constantly baked. At this point, Brom was wondering if he could get some of what the System was smoking, life seemed way more chill on that guy's end of things. Way better than walking through a creepy, dark tunnel, being cold and damp and bloody. They sloshed through water that was up to their knees, well mid-calf on Brom.

  What waited for them at the end was a very standard-looking boss room. Big. Open. All the fancy set dressing in the form of ruined and splintered ship timbers and twisted hull steel. The Captain sat collapsed in a large chair, the wreckage of a splintered desk scattered in front of them.

  Logan tapped his sword against the side of his calf, looking around curiously. "Well, this looks like a boss room, and that looks like a boss."

  "Thank you, Sir Point-out-the-obvious-a-lot." Ramirez's reply was dry, sagging against her staff to conserve energy.

  It was the biggest difference between them and the actual game characters. Game characters didn't get tired of grinding dungeons usually. The rewards would suck. The XP would get worse. Maybe there were fatigue systems for skills. But you could make the little pixel body go through the motions as many times as you wanted. Not so with meat and bone.

  Jonesy rubbed his chin, glancing at the group and then at the boss, then at the arena and back to the boss again. "Okay, doesn't seem like there are any obvious environment mechanics. Ramirez?" He glanced at the woman and waited for her to confirm or deny. A single shake of her head later, and he continued explaining. "So, I guess we just provoke and go from there. Brom, you don't have anything like a taunt-type ability?"

  "I can try insulting that thing's mother, but mechanically, no. My skills do extra damage and a stun." He raised a finger, wiggling it. "I can walk in there, clock the shit out of it, and see if it can be one-shot or if it has phase locks."

  Quincy snapped his fingers. "Yeah. That would also tell us if you can get locked out of the boss fight. Like if the arena prevents reinforcements from showing up." He slapped his fist against his palm, looking excited at the idea of testing the theory. Especially since he wasn't the one doing the testing.

  Jonesy gave his head a half shake. "I'm not so sure about that, though. What if there's some sort of instant kill mechanic? Or a group mechanic?"

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Brom just stood there, arms folded, staring at the dead guy while the Guards talked it over. Honestly, he'd never even thought about an instant death mechanic. If there were Viewers wouldn't that be counterproductive? Anti-climactic? Wouldn't they rather see a thrilling fight than see someone just vaporized because of 'reasons'? He knew it wasn't particularly entertaining to watch outside of raid boss mechanics. This was a basic bitch supposedly suitable for a level one starter dungeon. Instant death shouldn't be on the table.

  "Alright, in the interest of testing, go ahead, Brom." Jonesy looked like he'd gotten talked into it, a slight air of dissatisfaction clouding his face. He could have overruled them with authority, probably wanted to, but he was clearly a more democratic sort of leader. "So help me if you get killed on us-"

  "Feel free to point and laugh at my corpse. My parents always told me I'd die doing something stupid, I just hope I look cool doing it." Brom smiled a smile he didn't really feel, projecting false bravado as he walked forward. "Stay there just in case. Maybe do a five-minute count before jumping in if I'm still fighting? That should give you enough time to watch for patterns."

  He passed the line in the sand within five strides, the Captain across from him stirring. By the time he was within what was clearly the 'arena' proper, the Boss was waiting for him. Brom was expecting minions. The dude was a captain after all. He was expecting a cutlass. He wasn't expecting a fucking flintlock. He didn't realize he was being shot until he heard the crack of the report, his side going cold a moment later.

  HP: 680/700

  - Bleeding

  - Stagger

  - Stun

  "Fuck!" His hand flew to his side, feeling all the air go out of him as he stumbled forward. "There's your goddamn insta-gib." A well telegraphed heavy attack that was likely very easy to dodge if you weren't an overconfident idiot who just stared at it and let it break a few ribs. Jonesy had to see how much health he had carved off. Maybe even saw the debuffs as they were cleansed. But Brom was okay, picking up the pace as he charged toward the Captain.

  He didn't want that fucker to reload and hit him again. He'd had his daily dose of iron and a nearly lethal dose of lead.

  The Captain's face snapped toward Brom's fist, the man looking both surprisingly alert and rather more alive than most of his crew. At least he didn't have hideous marine life squirming around him. He looked almost fresh... for a drowned man. A little grey, a little bit of corpse-wax, soaked clothes that were starting to rot. But his brain was working. He tried to avoid that punch, his body just didn't seem to cooperate. Whether it was an honest lack of dexterity or whether the Captain took a little while to warm up, they couldn't tell.

  Brom's punch cracked his sternum and caved his chest in, sending him flying backward into the chair he'd gotten up from. It knocked the chair over, his booted feet flopping as he went down.

  A rumble shivered the cavern, small pebbles plinking down onto the arena, and a groan ripping through the debris. A moment later, a heavy section of hull slammed down across the tunnel mouth, cutting the arena off and isolating Brom. This confirmed two things. One, there was a lockout, and two, this was a multi-stage boss. Brom had known that from the System's earlier slip-up, but he hadn't been keen on blurting it out.

  The arena began to crumble, a keening splitting the air. The wooden planks shattered, a geyser of water erupting from below and causing Brom to jump back. That rotten fishy smell was suddenly overwhelming as a somewhat familiar-looking figure hauled herself out of the brackish water below.

  A siren.

  A rotten, zombie siren.

  She glanced toward the fallen captain, stretching out half skeletal hands, and then wheeled to fix Brom with her very angry gaze. Her mouth stretched open, the rotten skin of her face ripping to reveal the slimy muscles of her jaw and a bit of pale bone.

  Brom had experience with sirens. Sirens could absolutely fuck him up. He didn't hesitate, stamping on the ground to flip some of the splintered arena into his hands and hurl it directly at her face. Driven by panic, he was already running toward her as soon as he let go of his grip on the wood. He launched himself into the air just before he reached where the arena floor had been destroyed, raising his arms above his head as he hurled toward her.

  She was shaking her face, shrugging off the slap from the wood, just in time for Brom to 'land'. He'd aimed right for her. Not for safety. He'd laced his fingers together and swung downward like his hands were a hammer at the end of his arms. He needed this. If she got that damn song off, who knew what would happen? Maybe he'd drown. Maybe he'd be the new captain. Maybe he'd punch his way through that piece of metal blocking the way in and go after the Guards trapped behind it.

  None of those were particularly appealing options. Screw waiting around to find out.

  His blow hit her fair and square, forcing a wretched screech out of her. Like he'd ripped the hellish record off the damned player and the shriek of the unholy scratch had followed.

  - Hideous Blow Activated!

  She reeled as he gripped her by the throat, holding on for dear life as his free fist crashed into her face a second time. Enough life to not die in one hit, but not enough to withstand two. Good to know! He didn't know what his damage was, but unless dungeon bosses scaled, a party of level ones was going to get fucked up in here. He didn't even want to think about it. Or maybe it was boss armor that stopped her with a magic pixel.

  [Quest: A Call to Action!]

  - Defeat the Captain 1/1! Stage Complete!

  [Quest: A Call to Action!]

  - Return to Cold Bay City Guard Station

  He hauled himself out of the water, standing there with his hands on his hips and trying to catch his breath, watching the notification scroll. With a bone-shaking thud, the hull plate collapsed inward, unblocking the way for the other four to step in and stare at him.

  "Well, I won't be doing that again..."