"The Anthem" from Bad Charlotte blared in his head from [Audio Player]. Music helped him zone in, and with the groaning about policy procedures, he figured he might as well turn on the tunes. Also, the lead singer was allegedly an undercover and unaffiliated Adventurer who broke into Clan holdouts to steal their important Relics. Seemed apt.

Alex exploded always forward, zoomed by his [Blazing Hot] ten percent speed buff. Purply cubicle walls blurred as he juked and spun out of the reach of cold corporate hands. Their dry fingers reached for him and his pizzas. He vaulted a desk, which caused the monitor with never ending email to the carpet, and [Phantom Step]ped up onto the divider like a balance beam. Leaping, he used the wheezing face of a Drone as the floor, and tried not to think on Orwell's warning of a boot endlessly stomping on a human face. After all, [Corporate Drone]s snarled everywhere, so over the cubicles he glided like it was a jungle gym and he was a well-trained monkey.

Each and every one was revealed to be a [Corporate Drone] upon identification. Just an endless horde of copy-paste employees, seemingly stuck in whatever personal hell this room offered. Glitchy VPN connections that stopped working at the worst time? Application restarts for months? Three hundred shared mailboxes? Template changes at the last second just because? It chilled Alex.

"Report! It must be reported up the organizational chart!" a gaggle of drones moaned down the room.

"Daily stand up! Daily stand up!" a particularly angry one hollered, prompting the surrounding drones to parrot the yells.

Alex didn't want to do daily standups, but spared a look toward Brody as he ran. The smug bastard, who had combed his hail in place with gel, tore over the cubicle dividers before backflipping into one of the weaving hallways. A horde wielding cold coffee in branded mugs descended upon Brody, but the clone just looked on cockily.

He didn't want to use Brody, of course, but Alex had to admit, the little bugger was a fantastic just in case clause. A stapler embossed with TPS on it hurled through the air, coming straight for Alex's knee. He twisted on the cubicle, before leaping and [Phantom Step]ping fifteen feet ahead to a desk.

That's when he spotted Brody connect to back of his heel in a wheel kick with a Drone's face. Teeth flew in a spray as the Drone flew backwards, knocking three of its coworkers into a tangled heap.

What the shit?!

Brody didn't turn to throw a finger guns or a smug grin. The copy leapt like a fighter onto the fallen monsters. Alex's gut turned as he saw Brody jogging straight over a Monster on its back and raise his foot above it's head.

Is he trying to kill a Monster?!

That's when Brody looked over towards Alex with a grin, except this one was cocky and evil. The copy winked and went to slam his foot into the skull of the Monster.

"Brody, no!" Alex yelled, snapped off his music, and teleported over.

Alex blinked across the space to drop into Brody's spot. The clone went wherever he went. Now it was his heel, Alex's, hanging above the Drone's skull about to stomp. He wobbled and just barely caught himself before pasting the Monster's brains. The thing stared up at him, wheezing about flowcharts, while a dozen [Corporate Drones] lumbered after him.

"Look, apologies for this, but we're going to have to circle back."

He flared his flames and shot off down the row, phasing through them to leave the middle management scrambling after him.

Well, that's concerning. Is Brody getting evil or just messing with me?

He skidded hard around the corner, flinging himself forward with pumping legs. Cubicles whizzed past, as did the cheap plastic headsets sharpened like throwing stars. He juked and kicked off on a divider to keep his momentum to leave the Drones in the dust. That Brody thing bugged him as the Exit sign grew closer.

Seriously, what the absolute shit was that?

The exit dumped him into a labyrinthine filing archive, which was a cavern of rusty cabinets stacked fifty feet high. As Alex sprinted down the central aisle, the drawers rattled and then shot open. Paper poured out to flutter down like a blizzard. One nicked his arm and sliced clean through his flesh to open a tiny, gaping paper cut.

"SHIT! What kind of safety standards are these?" Alex yelled as sheets tried to scythe him. He [Phantom Step]ped forward as a drawer opened and shot out to try and trip him. The drawers tried to keep up, but he was steps ahead of them, too fast for their rickety speed.

Perfect terrain. Morbid, sociopathic clone, I'll think on you later.

It was time to test his Skill combo. Alex let his [Burrow Sense] bloom open, and with just a tiny speck of Essence he directed, it still almost overwhelmed his senses. He kept afoot though, and kept on tearing as he tried not to lose himself to the onslaught of everything lighting up around him. It was the first time that he used the Skill in a Dungeon, and thank goodness for that, as if he wasn't as practiced as he was, he would have perished. And who wanted to perish from paper cuts? Terrible way to go.

Everything was filled with Essence around him, which made sense, since it was a Dungeon. The metal was filled with it, the paper was lined with it, even the dust specks were little glitter Essence bits. Mold tickled his throat, and paper hitting air made his knees itchy. All around, it filled the air and matter, and if he wasn't sprinting for his life to not get split open, it would have made him want to curl up in the fetal position and cry for Emilio. He pressed on, and tried to shove away the feeling of self satisfaction washing over him for getting better with his finicky Skill.

It made sense to him, that it was all filled with Essence. Dungeon Bosses cultivated their Dungeons as Domains, and filled it structures, and Monsters, and hopefully goodies. He pushed on, dashing, trying not to think too hard about Brody wanting to fight, and searched all around him for something hidden.

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The problem was, there were hundreds, no, thousands of Relics all around him. Each page was a Relic technically, as were the drawers, the springs, the bolts, the dust, the napkin covered in blood under that one, all of it. It was a blanket of pushing Essence, blindingly bright and potent, but Alex kept on running, somehow keeping himself under control. Most likely, it was his competitive spirit. His inner spunk that made him a stubborn bastard. Lose to Francesca? No, no. He'd get there first, and with extra morsels to boot.

Pages chased him like angry hummingbirds. They were covered in reports, of visionary statements, soliloquies on the importance of structure, and one was a page entirely made up of doodled dicks. Hundreds of weiners came to chop him. Infront of the paper cut storm he steamrolled ahead, flowing through the Dungeon.

That special moment hit Alex, where things just blurred around him, and he was just there in the moment. That zesty flow that everyone chases. His lungs sucked air as his legs pumped beautifully, and all around him, he could feel the Essence in every nook and cranny. It was a dangerous Dungeon, but able to sense the magic physically all around him, he was part of it all. A bright Core thrumming sprinting to deliver some pies.

And get a shiny.

The skill itched, but each Relic he could piece out that wasn't just a piece of paper or a chunk of dust wasn't good enough. If he was to steal, it would be something awesome. And none of the paper clips or staples shoved in the back of drawers were good enough.

Alex left the paper room in the dust, and next up were towering crystal goons sprinting at him and wielding lanyards like maces. He ducked, hopped, and used [Phantom Step] over and over so much he could feel his Core exhausting. Just a flutter of Essence kept [Burrow Sense] on, and the pizza felt glued to his hand, still warm.

Following that was a room of Secretary Monsters with eight arms and only giant smiles without eyes in their heads that were surprisingly fast in their heels and blouses. The male secretaries too. Alex didn't want to get choked to death with floating phones on cords but also didn't trust Brody to not run amuck.

Through the whole thing, he kept [Burrow Sense] on just slightly, keeping him locked into the zone. He was untouchable. Zooming so fast, peeling away and jumping, shooting himself forward like a cannonball with [Phantom Step], searching for a good shiny. He almost stopped to snatch a juicy feeling pen on a desk, but it gave him the side eye, and his gut didn't trust it.

The secretary room had two exit signs. One was a Joker card, the other a waterfall. Without the time to reach for his GoCoin, Alex thought for a moment and ran in circles as the Secretary Monsters clambered after him.

What was more likely to have the better Relics, if we could find one?

The answer was obvious, once he saw the Essence pouring out from the Joker room, so he double juked the Monsters, which sent them flailing to the ground to moan about appointments and how he must have back-to-back meetings, preferably to stack them, and that triple booking was preferred. With a final stride, he whizzed into the Joker room.

Soon as he entered, the door slammed shut behind him. It was a perfect darkness, and silent too, save for the Secretary Monsters throwing themselves like black-Friday shoppers at the wall behind him. Even his flames only made a small glow around him from the darkness pressing in from all sides. It was thick, and Alex was starting to think he made a wrong decision with his choice.

Something flicked on a light, and the room was revealed to Alex.

Four Monsters sat at a table, with an empty chair remaining. Alex froze as he saw the giant thing pointed right at him.

One of them was an amalgamation of staplers, binders, coffee mugs, post-it notes, and all manner of office supplied in the vague shape of a gorilla with crossed arms that leaned back in his chair, looking at him. Another was an actual watercooler, except its contents looked like blood and bone, and it wore giant sunglasses over it's face that was drawn on with permanent marker. The marker moved just like a regular face. The third was giant rat wearing a perfectly tailored blue suit, except its eyes were giant and looking over Alex's body. The look felt…gross. There was a door on the other side of the table of Monsters. None of those three made him freeze though, as there was one final Monster in the room.

He would call it a potato, but that would be rude to the root vegetable. It was a woman, or, was a woman at some point, who looked liver-spotted, bloated, red faced, morbidly wrong and disproportionately bloated in the neck and forehead region. She had pointed teeth, giant pink glasses with a cord to keep them on her ginormous head. She too, didn't make Alex freeze, though he was surprised at what she was revealed to be upon identification.

[Porker Poker Patty]

He could surely outrun a potato, a watercooler, a stapler gorilla, and a rat who looked like he paid people to spit in his coffee so he could get off. It was that kind of look the rat gate him.

He hadn't turned off his [Burrow Sense], and what was pointed at him was glowing so brightly from Essence, and felt so cold and calculated, with potential to boot, he just knew it was the perfect Relic to snatch.

It was a keynote clicker. One of those little electronic devices that people used during their presentations, to laser point at some unintelligible chart, or send the endless presentation to the next slide. The potato lady was pointing it right at him with her fat psoriasis finger over one of the buttons. Just a simple clicker, pouring out and shining. Alex's fingers were tingling at the sight of it.

That's it. What in the bloody hell does THAT do?

[Patty's Keynote Klicker 2000]

Someone finally cut the tension, and of course, it was the potato shaped Monster named Patty.

"Sit," she said hoarsely through that bloated neck. "Poker Planning is an integral part of Scrum. Without points, without arbitrary numbers we pull from our arses, how would we measure the immeasurable?" Patty looked at the gorilla stapler Monster. "Nick?"

The gorilla belched, and a soggy deck of playing cards splatted in front of Patty.

None of the Monsters made to kill him, but they were looking at him and waiting. Alex had no idea what the heck he was about to get into, but if it involved cards, how much skill could be involved? So he sat in the empty chair and laid his delivery on the table.

[Deliver the Pizza to the Customer - Time Remaining - 42:47]

How long could a poker thingy take anyways? That Relic is too good. Has to be.

Patty clicked a button on her klicker, and a screen popped onto the wall to the left. Alex's jaw dropped as he saw the length of the Table of Contents. It must have been two hundred slides long, and colours matched that delightful pukey-purple from the cubicle room.

"Oh, hell no." Alex whined as potato lady leaned forward and began the discussion.

And in the unspace, Mr. Mystical peered in to watch Alex through one of his scrying Skills.

"Harold! Why isn't he using his Skill with the copy?! Surely he realizes that it would let him get the Relic? Do you think he's onto us?"

"Iunno." Harold answered and tossed a hunk of rotting fruit infected with the [Cursed Bracelet] into the cage.

Someone who looked exactly like Alex, but wasn't, scrambled over and gobbled down the little fruit given to him. The clone stood, and glared daggers at the rat and the book, but the infection was already well on its way to taking hold.

How was he supposed to tell Alex he was screwed if he couldn't speak or control himself in Alex's world? He just wanted to go home and go back to helping his alternate version when called upon like normal. He was supposed to be summoned and existed only when necessary, and now he needed the real Alex.

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