Father’s approach was hesitant. The snail shell house was more elegant than anything he could have ever imagined. A home built from something that had once been alive, or part of a living thing, was the kind of absurd, twisted gaudiness he expected from the disgustingly rich.

  Doctor Holo hadn’t moved at all, if the giant log-like shape behind the snail shell was really the second checkpoint.

  Father didn’t even mind dying in what he suspected would be a difficult fight. Knowing that there really was a second checkpoint was already a huge relief. He had been desperately hoping he would find it.

  Throughout the ocean, there were countless creatures. There were more than Father could guess. He had taken marine biology classes in high school like everyone else, but he was no expert in the matter. Usually around the trench, he saw the same types of shellfish or finned creatures. Even in his time in the downtown Reef, Father had seen what he expected to see. Now, with Doctor Holo in his sights, Father had no idea what he was looking at.

  Father stepped over a small retaining wall at the edge of the snail shell house’s yard. It held a neat garden of miniature anemones and acetabularia. He took care to step over the plants, and into the trimmed kelp yard. The slimy leaves flattened underfoot.

  “You are fit,” Doctor Holo said in his shrill voice. It seemed to ring from behind the giant log-like structure.

  Father felt an odd sense of hope. Perhaps this boss wasn’t some giant creature and was instead a stupid little cod that had a face he could bash in. Mister Logs wasn’t necessarily giant since eels were just bigger than most sea creatures. If Doctor Holo had actually been the giant, rotting log, Father didn’t know what he could do to fight it.

  The ribbed sections of the enormous brown thing were covered in bits of sand and clusters of barnacles. It looked like some mythical creature had defecated in the back yard.

  “Doctor?”

  Father took a startled step back as the entire giant thing moved. It wriggled like a worm, tearing apart the trimmed kelp yard as it swiveled and faced Father. Two red eye-like openings flared. Bush-like tentacles twitched as the doctor’s shrill voice caused Father to flinch even more.

  “A fit little crab!”

  Father aimed the shotgun at the twitching mouth tentacles. “I’m a lobster.”

  The entire front of the sea cucumber rotated slightly like Doctor Holo was trying to get a different perspective.

  “So you are. A lobster without a leather jacket can only mean one thing.”

  “What is that?” Father asked.

  “You are the Father of the sexiest lobster.”

  Father pumped the shotgun. “So you are the second boss.”

  “Boss? I am simply the doctor. Do you think one can afford such a home on the salary of a general practitioner? No, of course not, no. Such elegance is reserved for those who dabble in crime. What is a gang of shellfish without a licensed doctor? A gang of dinner, if you ask me.”

  Father inched closer. His steps were closer to a shuffle, allowing him to keep the shotgun aimed without making his stance awkward or unsteady. “You’re fine with them kidnapping people?”

  “Money doesn’t create itself! Someone must take steps to ensure a profit is made. Otherwise, what is the point of any of it?”

  Ignite

  Father shot the fiery blast. All the ammo loaded into the shotgun was rapidly consumed and launched out of the barrel. Water boiled, briefly clouding Father’s vision. He tossed the shotgun aside, pulled out the pistols, and crouched underneath the stream of bubbles.

  Doctor Holo screamed. Flaming mouth tentacles flicked out, smashing into the ground. Entire sections of the kelp lawn were torn away and thrown into the water above.

  Father pushed the ability options aside. Most of Doctor Holo’s body looked like a thick skin or exoskeleton of some kind. The mouth and the red eyes were probably the creature’s only weak spots.

  The sea cucumber convulsed and folded until a circular, twitching hole was pointed right at Father.

  “Its anus,” Father whispered.

  Shrapnel Shot

  Father pulled the handgun triggers, but Doctor Holo was quicker. A massive tube of a putty-like material erupted from the sea cucumber’s anus. The shrapnel bullets hit the edge of the brown cylinder and exploded moments before the giant column of sea cucumber excretion smashed into Father.

  Return to Checkpoint 1 or Return to Start?

  Sharpshooter was undoubtedly good. There was a lot of potential, especially given the weapons he knew he could acquire without much effort. The problem was he doubted he could kill Doctor Holo with those weapons. If Mister Logs was already difficult to defeat with a gun, Doctor Holo was absolutely going to be even more impossible. There were too many other classes and combinations to try. Now that he knew where checkpoint 2 was, Father didn’t mind going back.

  Returned to Start.

  Beginning Run 33.

  Debuff: Cholera

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

  Set Attributes.

  Father pulled back from the steering wheel. His head throbbed in what was a surprisingly unfamiliar sensation. He hadn’t felt that headache pain in a significant time after having returned to the checkpoint previously.

  Before Father could fully figure out his situation, he felt his stomach turn. A horribly, horrifying bout of diarrhea bubbled from his bottom. It puffed out his shorts and sent a murky cloud roiling into the car’s interior.

  Father groaned and placed a hand on his stomach. He quickly looked through the attributes, now in a hurry before he choked on his own feces.

  There was something he had to try. His curiosity would never be satiated without at least attempting it. The headache would hopefully just fade over time. And hopefully so would the cholera.

  Strength 0

  Endurance 0

  Agility 0

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Intelligence 0

  Luck 50

  Father unbuckled and opened the car door. In the process, his elbow bumped into the center console. A pill bottle fell out, bounced off the emergency brake, and landed perfectly on his lap.

  “Seriously?”

  He picked it up, looked at the label, and rolled his eyes. Ibuprofen wasn’t a common medication in his household. He couldn’t even remember when he had last bought the over-the-counter anti-inflammatory. The expiration date gave him another few months, which seemed unlikely. Instead of questioning it too much, Father climbed out of the car, took off the lid and tossed a few of the red pills into his mouth.

  Having the car door open allowed some of the murky cloud to wash out of the driver’s seat. The rest sat around the bottom of the seat like a warning of what might come again.

  Ibuprofen wouldn’t act quickly, and it was unlikely to actually relieve the pain in his head. At least it was something. Father rubbed the damaged spot on his forehead and took a deep breath of clean water, glad to have escaped the sudden bout of diarrhea.

  Just as the thought crossed his mind, the same sensation bubbled through his guts again. Father stuck his butt into the car and pulled down his shorts. He sent a stream of bubbling diarrhea into the car and slammed the door shut before any could flow out.

  Police sirens screamed in the air as the pigfish barreled down the street.

  That was too fast. Father squinted and tried to peer through the flashing blue and red lights. There was at least three minutes between waking up and the pigfish showing up. Arriving as soon as he got out of the car, even if that was a little delayed, was way too early.

  As the pigfish came closer, Father was able to see their faces. Both were screaming. They drew their guns and tried to aim even as the car accelerated out of control.

  Father scurried out of the way of the incoming car. He fell onto the hood of his own and braced.

  “Hey, aren’t you the Father of the Sexiest Lobster? Can’t believe you hit me! You got some ball—”

  The Hardbody Crustacean Lobster was smashed into Father’s car by the speeding police cruiser. His head popped off, followed by a confetti-like explosion of lobster meat which slowly drifted back down to the ocean floor.

  As soon as the police car stopped, two gunshots flashed inside and sprayed pigfish blood over the windows. Both doors swung open and deposited the dead cops onto the street.

  Father still sat on the hood of his car. His heart hammered as he processed the situation. Finally, a chuckle escaped. “Okay.” He winced and groaned as his guts continued bubbling.

  He stared for another minute before finally crawling off the hood of the car. It seemed beyond ridiculous. He hadn’t done a thing. In fact, he was really just trying his best to keep his bowels under control. Father grabbed the baseball bat and tossed it into the police car. After taking both handguns, he sat in the seat, wiped some pigfish blood off the windows, and drove into the trench.

  Trash Co. was quiet as Father pulled up. No sign of Pleven or anything out of the usual. He somehow had expected something insane given how the run had started, but going into a situation in which he knew every quirk was also good. Better, probably.

  Father checked the handguns, stepped out of the car, and paused. He let a weak, final squeak of diarrhea leak into the water. It seemed to have expelled most of what had been inside. Now, he was just an empty vessel ready to kill.

  Father frowned at that thought.

  He marched inside. The receptionist wasn’t at their desk, leaving the lobby completely empty. It would be a good time to go straight to the manager’s office, but Father felt like the shotgun was too necessary to go without.

  He hurried into the hallway and expected to see the Hardbody Crustacean snow crab in the doorway. It was empty.

  Father slowed his approach, keeping stealth in mind, and pressed his body against the wall just outside the isopod’s office. The door was cracked and odd sounds came from within.

  He used a handgun to push it open and aimed right where the isopod’s head would usually be. It was empty.

  The noises made Father scowl. He stepped inside and around the desk. The snow crab was on top of the isopod doing some unspeakable acts. Chittering sounds of pleasure from the isopod were the odd sounds he had heard outside.

  Father immediately killed both creatures. He quickly took the shotgun from under the desk and hurried out, closing the door behind him.

  “I didn’t know that was possible. I wish I didn’t know that was possible.”

  Father slipped the handguns into his waistband and shook his head. “Forget it. Forget about it. Clear it from your mind.” He continued muttering as he walked back into the empty lobby .

  “I think we could cut half of the isopods and still work as efficiently,” the receptionist said. They stood in the doorway to the manager’s office, completely unaware of Father or the murders he had just committed.

  “You’re certain?” Mister Logs said.

  The receptionist held a tablet and tapped a fin against it. “Yes. They are efficient creatures, and cutting a section of the workforce would inspire the remaining ones to pick up the slack.”

  Father pressed the shotgun against the fish’s skull. “What a shitty thing to do.”

  “Wha—”

  Father sprayed fish brains against the door. He kicked the corpse aside as it fell and marched into the office with the shotgun still raised and ready to go. He pumped it, expelling the spent shell.

  1st Checkpoint Boss

  Mister Logs

  “Who are you?” Mister Logs asked.

  Father groaned and stumbled to the side. “One second.” He opened his mouth and fit the shotgun inside.

  Mister Logs swam out of the shadows. “Fascinating.”

  Father pulled the gun barrel out of his mouth. “Be right back.” He fit it back in and awkwardly reached for the trigger.

  Beginning Run 34.

  Set Attributes.

  Strength 0

  Endurance 0

  Agility 0

  Intelligence 0

  Luck 50

  Worry about stomach aches and random bouts of diarrhea was not what Father wanted to deal with. He bumped the center console and waited for ibuprofen, but nothing fell out. A couple more forceful nudges only caused it to pop open and reveal old scraps that were probably little more than garbage.

  “Fine.” Father shook his head, trying to help the headache clear from behind his eyes. He stepped outside and nearly fell over.

  “Hey, aren’t you the Father of the sexiest lobster?” The Hardbody Crustacean lobster was already standing outside the car.

  That was too fast. Much too fast.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry,” the lobster said. “Kidnapping your son like that . . . Man, that was really awful, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah.” Father let his voice drop away. “You regret it?” Father looked over his shoulder. His old rum bottle house was still there with a freshly trashed lawn. “Wasn’t that like a few hours ago?”

  “A few hours of time to build that regret.” The lobster let the bat hang at his side. He placed his claw on Father’s shoulder. “A lobster can repent.” He leaned close and gently shook Father. “I’ve seen the light. I’ve found god.”

  “What?”

  “Watch out!”

  Father’s eyes widened as red and blue lights flared. He took a single step back, just far enough to avoid the speeding police car that crushed the newly religious lobster.

  A pigfish stumbled out of the driver’s seat, vomited, and started crying. His partner walked around the car with blood leaking from his gills. Father took another step back as the pigfish on the ground drew a handgun and turned.

  “It doesn’t have to be like this,” the partner said.

  The driver still cried and babbled through his vomit. He aimed at the partner, trembled, then turned the gun to himself and put a bullet through his head.

  The partner screamed and fell to his knees. “No! I can’t live without you! No!” He grabbed the gun, put it in his mouth, and looked at Father.

  Father nodded slowly.

  The gunshot made Father flinch, despite all of his experience with guns. He looked over the carnage in front of him and realized his head wasn’t hurting at all. Not from hitting it, at least. There was definitely some type of headache from the absolute confusion of the situation.

  “How is this luck?” he muttered.

  He didn’t expect an answer from the system, though he would’ve loved some type of explanation of what luck actually did. If it made random things appear, then he wasn’t sure that was luck at all.

  Father looted the pigfish and drove their car away. Some bits of lobster shell were stuck in the hood, but one had to look close to really notice. Father figured anyone who might look close enough was probably going to be dangerous and would need to be shot anyway.

  As expected, he made it to Trash Co. without any problem. Nobody in the modestly deep trench cared what was happening around them. If they did, they would have checked on Father right after the attack. Or maybe they would have intervened in some way during it.

  In fact, if any of his neighbors were even moderately aware of what was happening, why didn’t they even bother to call the police? Maybe they had and the pigfish who answered were in the pocket of the Crustaceans.

  Father parked the car and stared out into the dark street for a period of time. None of it really made sense. None of it would. The whole situation was insane and trying to understand or separate into digestible pieces would only cause his head to ache.

  Why bother? He was getting really good at killing, so there was no reason to find a new route. A lot of corrupt pigfish and evil shellfish lived in the trench and the Reef, and he was sure there were more villainous sea creatures than he knew about.

  They would all die.

  It might take him a few more lives, but if he could find an efficient route to go through and kill every evil sea creature between him and his Son, why not do it? When he finally won and stopped looping, he would know he didn’t just save his Son, but also left a trail of carnage that would make the ocean a better place.

  Father kicked in the door of Trash Co. and put a bullet right through the receptionist’s head. “One piece of trash down.”