The Trauco Triplets have been eliminated due to the expiration of their mount. Eight teams remain in the current heat.

Our truck skidded as I leaned on the brakes. The sound of spilling pots and pans rattled. The truck stopped just short of the crashed, on-fire minivan. A second bugbear appeared as I hit reverse and backed up a little, shouting and pointing at the manatee that continued to munch happily on the giant ladybug.

Prepotente’s warning was still echoing in my head. The van was on its side, and it was on fire. But the bugbears, two of them at least, were still alive, fighting to save it. One of them was using what looked like a blanket to put out the fire in the engine compartment.

“We can’t lose another team. We gotta get that fire out,” I called, jumping out of the truck. “Leave Mongo inside! Mongo, don’t let anyone in. Donut, what do you got for the fire? I’ll deal with the manatee!”

“Do I look like someone designed to put out fires!” Donut yelled as she jumped heavily to my shoulder. The heat from the fire washed over us. “Goodness, Carl. Why don’t you put out the fire?” She gasped as she looked up at the manatee. The massive creature loomed over us. “As the number one crawler at level 135, I’ll take out whatever the heck this thing is. Goodness, it smells just awful.”

The enormously fat creature rose out of the water like a dolphin doing a trick, only this was clearly in defiance of physics. Its flippers waved. White liquid oozed down the manatee’s giant face.

Miss Talulah. Level 90 Screeching Death Manatee.

This is a special guest creature for the 10th and 11th floors.

You’re probably going to find this hard to believe, but not only are these things sort of real, but that name they have—Screeching Death Manatees—is the actual name of record for this particular species. They were regular manatees, not unlike the Trichechus manatus most people from your world know and love. These guys were added to a former Land War world undergoing reparative terraforming when the company in charge of the project suddenly went bankrupt. The orcish owner had a bad run at sports betting, which resulted in his entire company and family all getting tossed into an indentureship program.

It took a whole generation before the vultures—in this case, the Operatic Bankers’ Federation—picking apart the orc’s assets thought to actually check up on all the not-yet-finished terraforming projects to see what was what. One of those worlds was found to have an uplift satellite program that was malfunctioning and running amok.

This satellite was not an intelligence like myself, mind you. This was a passionless, non-sapient artificial intelligence system that had its chubby finger pressed hard on the fast-forward-evolution button. Honestly, it was a godsdamned nightmare.

Anyway, yadda, yadda, yadda, a planet filled with nightmare monsters was born. The Operatic reclamation team, run by a group of guys collectively named Otto Banking Unit 3 (remember that name), originally decided it was best to just poison the whole planet and start over, but an economic-feasibility study came up with an interesting idea. This is a planet filled with nightmare biological creatures. Why let the mantids have a monopoly on theme parks? Why not turn it into a horror-themed safari planet?

The planet was renamed “Red Terror Place of Family Adventure.”

And that’s where the name “Screeching Death Manatees” comes from. Pretty much everything on the planet was given a name like that, at least according to those dweeb slimes. The raccoons are Doom Crier Beasts. The cockatiels are called Fuck-Off Cockatiels.

This place is still open to this day.

Also of note is that a third of Otto Banking Unit, Otto himself, is currently a registered guest of Club Scolopendra.

Anyway, these manatee things have been changed slightly to reflect their given names. They’re a real danger to any passing vehicle or mount, but both of you guys are so OP at this point that Miss Talulah is hardly a threat.

The moment the long description ended, Donut shot the creature with a pair of magic missiles. The whole thing just sort of gargled and collapsed, with a pair of soccer-ball-sized holes in its chest. It fell into the dark water as ladybug pieces fell from both its mouth and the pair of massive holes in its stomach. The water splashed over the road and receded, leaving a sticky film over everything.

From behind, Mongo screeched.

Jesus, I thought. Donut had just one-shot a level 90 monster.

There was a lot there in that description of the manatee that I didn’t have time to figure out. The real threat right now was the destruction of the minivan. I turned my attention to the two bugbears.

“Carl, Carl, I have a weird notification,” Donut called from my shoulder.

“What is it?” I asked as I quickly searched for the Temporary Water Source scrolls in my inventory.

I had to attach the water spell to something solid, and I grabbed the first thing I saw from the junk pile. It was just a regular bucket I’d looted from somewhere. I pulled it out and cast the scroll, and water started gushing from it. I tossed the bucket at the large bugbear, who took it wordlessly and turned toward his smoking van. I made a second one, this time using a kitchen bowl. The smaller bowl caused the water to gush out faster, like from a fire hose. I gave the bowl to the second bugbear.

“It says it’s a special guest creature,” Donut said. “I have to choose the fate of my kill. What does that even mean? There are two choices. I can keep it dead, and I get regular experience. Or I can let the audience vote on its fate. They have thirty seconds to pick, but I don’t know what those choices are! It says I should pick the second choice because it’ll be more fun!”

“What?” I asked, with a rising sense of dread, as I watched the two bugbears dance around their van. They were making a real mess of it, despite the water. This was a late-90s Pontiac minivan painted bright red. The fire was in the engine compartment. Even if we got this thing upright again, it wasn’t going anywhere.

Still, the system hadn’t yet torched the bugbears like it had the drivers of the ladybug. With a living mount, it was clear when something was out of commission. Dead was dead. But with a vehicle . . .

“I picked the second choice!” Donut called. “It says ‘Results pending!’”

The bugbear with the bowl screeched anew as his arm caught on fire. His friend turned his bucket on him, and the on-fire bugbear dropped the bowl. It spun off like a rocket, smacking against the far wall of the cave entrance and dropping into the dark water.

Thankfully, the other bugbear soon gained the upper hand, and the fire finally stopped.

The bugbear with the burned arm sat on the ground with a defeated huff. I examined him.

Radoslav. Bugbear. Level 75 Jack of all Trades.

One of three (well, now one of two) from Team Free Love.

The other one was only level 65. His name was Jasha.

Both of them were wearing tie-dyed T-shirts and beaded necklaces. Jasha had a tie-dyed headband. Neither was wearing pants. Their look reminded me of Cheech and Chong, though that look was not mirrored in their pained expressions.

Donut: THEY’RE BOTH DRESSED LIKE HIPPIES, BUT SOMETHING IS OFF. THEY’RE MORE LIKE THE HIPPIES YOU SEE ON THE PACKAGING FOR HALLOWEEN COSTUMES. YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN? LIKE THEY’RE UNDERCOVER COPS.

I warily eyed the bugbear sitting on the ground.

“You doing okay there?” I asked.

I met eyes with Radoslav the bugbear for the first time. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was momentarily taken aback at the pure emotion in the NPC’s face. This guy was terrified.

“First race. First obstacle, and we’re already crashed,” he said. “Alevtina was in the back, and she broke her neck when that damn bug knocked us over.” He produced a pack of cigarettes and he pulled one out with his mouth. He offered the pack to me. I hesitated, but I declined. The other bugbear, Jasha, seemed to give up on pouring water on the van and settled next to him on the asphalt. He pulled a cigarette from his friend’s pack. Jasha produced a lighter and lit them both.

“She’s dead. I checked,” Jasha said to the other bugbear. He itched at his headband and then, with a disgusted huff, ripped it off and tossed it. On my shoulder, Donut shifted. She wanted to jump down there and take it.

“She’s dead. We’re dead,” Radoslav said, taking a deep drag. “I never thought we had a real chance anyway.”

“She did,” Jasha said, indicating the overturned van with his cigarette. “She thought we had a good chance.”

Donut jumped from my shoulder and walked up to the pair. The headband disappeared into her inventory. I suppressed a grunt of amusement.

She sniffed at Radoslav.

“I’m sorry for your misfortunes,” Donut said. “I am Princess Donut, and that is Carl. Is there anything we can do for you?”

Donut: THEY DON’T EVEN SMELL LIKE HIPPIES, EVEN WITH THE DISGUSTING CIGARETTES.

Carl: How do hippies smell?

Donut: THEY SMELL LIKE ANGEL’S OWNER. THEY SMELL LIKE PATCHOULI MIXED WITH FARMERS MARKETS MIXED WITH SO-CALLED NATURAL BODY DEODORANT THAT JUST GAVE UP TEN MINUTES INTO THE JOB. THESE GUYS SMELL LIKE SAD, WET DOGS.

Carl: Yeah, but they never said they’re hippies.

Donut: THEY’RE WEARING TIE-DYE. THEY’RE CALLED TEAM FREE LOVE. IT’S FALSE ADVERTISING. YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT FALSE ADVERTISING, CARL. I’LL BE NICE TO THEM FOR NOW, BUT I’M TELLING YOU, THERE’S SOMETHING SUSPICIOUS GOING ON.

“Is good to meet you both,” Radoslav said. “But now is a bad time for us.” He offered a cigarette to Donut.

“No, thank you,” she said.

“Thank you for stopping, friends,” Jasha finally said, looking between me and Donut. “There is nothing you can do for us. We can’t pass the finish line unless we’re in our van. You better get moving. You can’t come in last place anymore, but you can come in second to last. And there is a time limit.”

I turned to examine their van. My bucket was there on the ground, having finally run out of water.

“You’re one of them, no?” Radoslav asked. “A person from this world?”

It was my turn to pause.

“Yes,” I finally said. “We are. We’re crawlers, and everyone else in the current heat are NPCs.”

Neither said anything for several moments. They just smoked as they looked at their crashed van with their dead friend inside.

Jasha flicked some ashes. “She was so excited about all this. Thought we was going to win whole thing. Get this great prize.”

“Wait,” Donut asked. “What’s the prize?”

The two bugbears looked at each other and then at Donut.

Jasha let out a small sad laugh. “Don’t you know? If we win, we are given freedom. We are taken from here and moved to some other place where we don’t have to fight anymore. Maybe you get offered a different prize since you’re ‘crawlers.’”

I immediately thought of Rory and Lorelai, the goblin shamankas from the very first floor. I remembered the forlorn quality to Rory’s voice when she talked about moving from the first to the second floor. And here we were on the tenth, and these guys were no different.

Donut swished her tail. “How do you know all this?”

“Because this is what they told us,” Jasha said. “We are all volunteers. Sort of volunteers. Last I remember, we were in the slime mines defending the air pocket, and we killed a guy like yourselves. He was a bune. A crawler. But before he died, he said he just wanted to go home. So Radoslav asked him where this home was, and the bune told us that this was all a game. And the moment he said this, it was like there was a click, and I just knew. I just knew what he was saying was right.” He indicated the other bugbear. “Radoslav here used to be my brother. Then my enemy. But usually my cousin. We were in the slime mines. We were on the submarine. We were in the rope city. Every time, a different place. And we didn’t remember. We didn’t remember until we did.”

“And there were other times, too,” Radoslav added. “When we weren’t anywhere. We’re not supposed to remember the cold, either, but we do.” He shuddered.

Jasha nodded. “It all came at once, these memories. And once we realized this, there was a voice. And then we were in a big room, and the voice gave us a choice. We could go back into the cold, or we could race for our lives. And if we won, fair and square, we could be free. That there was a place. A real place for us to live and never go to the in-between ever again.”

“And if we don’t win,” Radoslav added. “This is okay, too, because it means it will be over. Finally.” He sighed. “But Alevtina really wanted to win. She wanted to start a family. Maybe with me.”

“Or maybe with me,” Jasha said. He made a sad laugh. “But probably with you.”

Jasha took another drag, letting the moment hang. “Today is a bad day.”

Christ, I thought. “Listen, guys. You’re not out of this yet. If you were, you would’ve been disintegrated or whatever like that other team was.”

“Their mount died,” Jasha said. “Rules are different for mounts. Look at our van. We’re not going anywhere.”

I was already sifting through my inventory. I had the materials to build a flatbed cart, but I’d have to do it manually. I couldn’t remember if there was a tow hitch attached to the back of the truck. I assumed there wouldn’t be.

“We’re going to tow you to the finish line,” I said.

The two bugbears looked at each other and then at us.

“Why would you do this?” Jasha finally asked.

I was ready to make up some bullshit, but instead I just told them the truth. That if more than one team didn’t finish the race, we were pretty sure we’d have to race against our friends in further heats.

Jasha nodded. He stood, cracked his back, and tossed his cigarette into the water.

“This is a good reason. And is an honorable reason. Do you have materials to tow?”