Did you truly lose something if you cannot remember it?

  Brom's alarm went off too early for his humanity. He spent five minutes after he shut it off debating going back to sleep, but silencing the noise didn't stop the quest notification blinking in his vision. The next ten minutes were spent slowly moving the cats off of him so that he could slide out from under the blanket and get his first morning stretch in. For once, his back didn't sound like he was cooking popcorn, on the contrary, he felt light and well rested. Scratching his side and ignoring Brulé chattering at him grumpily, he stifled a yawn and flicked the record player to drop a vinyl, cranking it up as he vanished into the bathroom.

  He sang along with the music, nails scratching through hair that was starting to need a haircut, feeling more and more human as the hot water chased away the clinging fingers of slumber. He didn't bother shaving, wiping the steam off the mirror, and deciding he was good enough as is. He was heading into a dungeon, that meant he'd be coming home and showering again, so why bother? He'd just shave when he was rinsing the gore off. Or maybe he'd grow a beard? There had to be something that would tame the weird way it always grew in and make it look neater.

  He spotted Marble lurking on the stairs this time, picking him up before any tripping happened. "Hello, fat man, I see you were lying in wait once again. Bad habit you've got." He scratched between those grey ears, dropping the fuzzy bowling ball gently to his feet once they were out of danger.

  He made a quick scrambled egg breakfast wrap and a mug of tea, head bobbing in time with the music, humming happily. Lunch was quickly packed up and stuffed in his inventory. He wasn't sure how long the dungeon was going to take, and while he was certain that he could go without eating, he didn't want to get hangry around people he barely knew. Then it was just a quick clean up of the kitchen, a tidying of litter boxes, making sure everyone had food and water available, just in case he ran a little too long.

  "Alright, I'm off. Sabbath, you're in charge. Alice, please do not try to pry the vent screen up, you will get stuck trying to squeeze in. Brulé, there's fresh seed in the feeder outside your window, you should have plenty of entertainment. Marble, stay out of Sabbath's bowl, or he has permission to swat your ass. Bean, " he paused, picking up the little sausage cat and kissing him on the forehead, "try to stay off the fridge. I might be out late, and that's a long time to be stuck, little man."

  Instructions given, he looked over the clowder one last time, well aware he'd been fully ignored. Cats would be cats, Brom could only do so much. He equipped his coat from the inventory, checked the laces on his boots one last time, and fast-traveled to the Guard headquarters.

  A black and white wagon was waiting, the driver looking at him and nodding his head toward the back. Clearly, the Captain had let them know who to expect. The man really was efficient.

  Brom ducked, squeezing through the opening, feeling a little like a giant. Wagons really weren't made for men of his size, and he cut the light off as he folded himself into the inside space and found an empty spot on the bench. As the door banged shut behind him, four sets of eyes locked onto him. For a moment, the two sides sized each other up.

  On the Guards' side, the four of them looked well armed and well equipped; two staves, a bow, and a longsword rested next to their owners. All four guardsmen were dressed in the same armored uniform, much like those Brom had seen with crossbows on the walls. Sturdy deep blue leather, studded in the case of the two non-casters, reinforced with plates of lightweight metal in places. Brom, by contrast, looked wholly unprepared in work boots, jeans, a leather jacket, and a lack of a weapon.

  "So, I'm Brom. Nice to work with you all." He extended a hand, choosing to break the ice.

  The team invite popped up just as the first of the Guards was reaching out to take his hand. The moment Brom slotted in, everyone froze. They could all see it. It was almost comical to watch their expressions. First, the confusion, then a realization, and finally, one of them broke.

  "Ho lee shit, how on God's green earth did you get seven-hundred HP?" That was from the officer who was currently holding his hand with all the strength of a dead fish. A guy close to Brom in age with a blonde undercut, the Lv 4 Fighter named Logan.

  "Dude, screw the HP. How'd you get to level 7? The Event Dungeon?" A low whistle came from the Guard with a mop of curly brown hair and the bow, punctuating his words. Quincy, the Lv 3 Archer, kept glancing at the bar in the window and back to Brom.

  The group's mage, L3 Ramirez, clicked her tongue. "Barbarian, huh? Thought there were only five classes. That from the dungeon, too?"

  "Man, a health pool that big, I don't know if I have enough heals for that." The Healer, Jonesy Lv 4, knocked Logan's hand out of the way and gave Brom his first actual handshake. "Good to have you with us, though! The Captain said he was bringing in a ringer to help us clear the dungeon, and he meant it."

  Brom blinked, getting a little whiplash as he tried to figure out which conversation he wanted to jump off into. He figured that Jonesy seemed to be the one taking charge, so he focused on him. "You guys look like you've been working on your levels, too. Instances?"

  They nodded, and Jonesy leaned forward. "Department-wide directive. Thankfully, we've got plenty of hands manning the walls with all the sudden extra help from what was previously Transit. Those of us with the better ranks have been sent out to focus on staying ahead of the curve. We thought we were doing pretty well. Before we ran into you, the highest we'd heard of was Deputy Glass, who hit level 5. He had a grudge against the sirens, so he spent a lot of time on the beach just going to town on them."

  Considering Brom had gotten a pathetic amount of XP from killing a siren the man must have been very determined. "That's the worst way. Mobs give nothing compared to quests and dungeons. Even Instances aren't as good. So, have you guys been in a dungeon before, or is this your first?"

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  Jonesy spread his hands. "Our first. The Guard and the Sheriff's department are working together to lock down dungeons and try to get ahead of any problems. But we're the first team going into one. It's why both the Captain and the Sheriff have been trying to get ahold of you, Brom. You and those kids are the only people in Cold Bay right now who've successfully cleared a dungeon."

  "There were other folks who survived it, though. You could have reached out to one of them?" Brom folded his arms in front of his chest.

  Ramirez rolled her eyes. "We have been. It's only been a couple of days, but we're in the process of logging anyone who went in and trying to figure out who was lost. It's a pain."

  Brom could only imagine. No doubt the System knew the names, the exact numbers, the Mayor had suggested as much in his speeches. But the Mayor was probably a Moderator like Captain Quint was, and his hands were probably tied. The people on the ground were going to have to figure out and set up processes that worked for them. He wrinkled his nose. The world had ended, but the red tape had survived!

  They fell into talking, swapping combat stories and strategy suggestions. None of them knew what they were going to be facing in there, but Brom found it oddly soothing to be talking to professionals. While the Police Officers turned Town Guard had some training, much of it was for a world that no longer existed. A whole new set of rules was in play. Still, he was very aware that he was a civilian in a force he didn't entirely belong in. An outside violence contractor, if you will. As much as Brom tried to blend in, he found himself falling silent and letting them talk him through some basics. It was like attempting to learn a new language in three hours.

  It all came to a halt with a bump and sway of the wagon and a thump from the driver. The door opened to reveal the familiar curve of Gull Cove, a tidal estuary that gave way to a rocky cove. A few cute homes were nestled on the shore, screened by trees for some privacy, and if one followed the gravel road up the river, they'd find a decent campground. The gulls the cove had been named for had been chased away, no longer picking over the mud flats at low tide. The presence of the violently churning energy of the dungeon gate had chased them off.

  Brom whistled low. "This is different. There wasn't a door on the last one."

  "Probably has to do with the fact that this one is permanent and the other one was temporary." Logan shrugged, shading his eyes. "I'll go check us in with the Deputies, Sarge."

  Josey snorted. "We can all just go together. No reason for us to straggle out."

  The portal wasn't as large as Brom first thought. It just had a looming presence, a bit of wrongness, but in all honesty, it was only slightly larger than your average set of double doors. Probably about teen feet across by twelve feet tall. Tall enough that Brom didn't feel the need to duck. The energy coming off of it made the hairs on his arms prickle, like being outside in a thunderstorm, and he scratched his jaw, squinting at it.

  "Ready?" Jonesy appeared at his shoulder and looked up, reading his response from his eyes. "Alright, you take point."

  Of course, Brom was taking point. He had more health than the four of them combined and multiplied five times over. But he just took his hands out of his pockets and rolled his shoulders until his neck popped. Then he took a big step forward into the unknown.

  [Quest: A Call to Action!]

  - Enter the Drowned Depths Dungeon 1/1! Stage Complete!

  [Quest: A Call to Action!]

  - Clear the Tidal Staircase 0/1.

  Entering a Dungeon was a lot like walking through electrified gel. It passed over him, the current tingling along his skin as the quest updated, not enough to irritate but enough to be just a shade past pleasant. He blinked a few times to get his vision to adjust, taking a few more steps forward to clear space for the four to enter behind him. A crackling line of energy, the same color as the portal, denoted a 'safe space' that allowed them to scout ahead a little bit as long as it wasn't crossed.

  [Novice Dungeon: Drowned Depths!]

  [The reefs and waves have always hungered for their fill, and the tides have concentrated the remains of their meals in this place. The resentment of the men and the ships lost festers here. A strange power has begun to prey on that resentment for its own purposes. Investigate and bring peace to this disquiet part of the sea!]

  "...well shit..." Quincy's dry voice bounced off the walls of water that now surrounded them.

  What Brom had thought at first might be ice of some kind proved to be a cavernous tunnel of water that writhed and rippled, illuminated by flashes of light. He could make out the gnarled twists of shipwrecks, no doubt sunk in the storms and currents of the coastal waters here, the ever-shifting sand bars. Creatures swam through these hulks, keeping well away from the water tunnel, unwilling to get close. In front of them, the soft sand of the sea floor was swept away, revealing a wide avenue of stairs that descended further downward.

  He licked his suddenly dry lips and took a deep breath. "Okay, everyone ready? Be prepared for anything as soon as I cross that line." He still hesitated another minute and then made his way forward with a confidence he didn't feel. Everything seemed calm. What was the worst that could happen?

  [Wave One Commencing!]

  The moment his foot broke the line, he found out. The water walls shivered, a growing darkness lurching up. The storm above the sea grew more violent, and with every flash, things were growing closer and closer. Then, suddenly, the first bloated figure burst through the water curtain. The scent of dead flesh and brine instantly flooded Brom's nose, and he heard one of the Guards behind him gag. The creature had probably been human once, but now was a bloated nightmare that was part corpse, part sea creature, and all nightmare fuel. It turned to face Brom, barnacles filling its eyes and the legs of some crab creature twitching from its nostrils, raising a hand holding a rusty pike pole.

  "...well, I guess it's about fucking time the zombies entered the apocalypse."