Brody sprinted through the Dungeon and knew three things. Number one, he was fantastic at everything, thanks to his [Imbue the Simulacrum – Level 5], and because he was just naturally better than real Alex. Obviously. Number two, he wanted to help the real Alex. He was the reason for his existence, after all, and he quite liked him. Number three, this whole existence thing was exhausting.

Couldn't he just go back to that sweet nothing place to be called upon in times of need simple need? Like running away or navigating an obstacle Alex couldn't handle? Life wasn't meant to be spent in a cage, force-fed rotten, cursed food by a book and a squeaking little mouse, was it? He could feel Alex's emotions when called summoned. The wonder and laughter that filled his only friend proved there was more. Was it the cat? The girl? The food? A combination of it all? He wanted some of that. Not to take Alex's, but his own version of happiness.

I too, would like a girl to admire my resplendence. There must be a way out. I will not remain imprisoned by a curiosity!

"It's time for your daily review! Have you filled in your—"

Shut up!

He leapt and cracked his fist against the Monsters chin, sending it crashing to the ground to whine about things Brody knew nothing about. Something about branded reports. At least his fist felt good against that foul thing. Not just good, but wonderful.

It wasn't his joy, it was the nasty bit that damned mouse kept shoving into him. That squeaking little parasite that dripped the stuff into his Core from food and from those hours long incantations to make him do things he shouldn't. He'd thrown bottles at Alex, tried to hurt him, and even felt sick satisfaction at the thought of stomping the brains out of prone Monster. The sickly bracelet made him lose control and made his burgeoning heart cringe back with shame.

But his fist also felt good because it was real. That wasn't part of the dark Essence that tainted him. He was becoming more than just a better, shinier imitation, and Brody liked becoming more real. Running through the Dungeons, the small glimpses of life Alex showed him, all of it made him want more.

Maybe one day he'd even find a partner in crime of his own in that multicoloured space where he was being held by the annoying Mr. Mystical. A cat, perhaps. There had to be one in there. One with a funny set of ears. Obviously, it would adore him. Now that he had a few thirst-quenching sips of life, he'd figure out a way to get away from the book and the mouse and explore that undulating space he could supposedly exist within.

First, though, was business. Alex needed help, and he needed Alex's help, so to the front of the Dungeon he ran. Fifteen minutes? Pssht.

Really, Alex, is this amateur hour? Simply bend it all to your will.

Brody blurred through the Dungeon and flared his most important Skill he had been born in that northing space. [Imbue the Simulacrum] bent the reality bubble around him. For others it seemed that things were dangerous or challenging, but to Brody, and his impeccable will, it was all set dressing.

His legs pumped without lactic acid, and when a lanyard tipped with a maced badge whistled straight for his pineal gland, he simply decided that would not do. And so it didn't. The cord shifted to just a nanometer from his skull. He had a flare for the dramatic that he must maintain, and the Monster's must witness his awesomeness. Just for good measure, he easily ducked another lanyard to kick the thing in the nads. It screamed and he laughed silently before dashing off.

A horrid bucktoothed menace that resembled a deflated potato in a wig cried as she hurled sharpened rulers at him. Why someone would whine about a clicker was beyond him. Brody went straight for them and hopped to use the things as footholds to sprint along the wind. His balance was flawless, the rulers held mid air by sheer force of will. Can't forget the hair as well. He kept it in place and morphed the light around his jawline so that his pearly whites could beam upon the lesser he sprinted by.

This world, this…simulacrum was his runway. Not everything could be controlled, not yet at least, but in that sphere the Skill could touch, it was all his. Where others would struggle and deflate, he was simply what he wished. At the end of the day, from the place he was pulled from, this reality that Alex yoinked him into was just a pale imitation to the undercurrents he was molded from. It was oh so easy for him.

Honestly, I don't know what he would do without me. This is easy, might as well have some fun.

He burst into an area packed with secretary Monsters. Multi-limbed abominations in pencil skirts with too many arms swarmed after him with biting binders like bear traps and enchanted staplers that fired shuriken staplers. Brody ran them in dizzying circles, pivoting off filing cabinets and twirling through the air. The Monsters clapped into the flailing limbs of their compatriots as he spun them into each other. Shrieking in tangled heaps, of course he ensured to bow mid-stride before backflipping thrice for their spectacle. For this he did not even use his Skills, simply his finesse. Can't get rusty. That too was a ridiculous statement, for he could never be rusty.

Amateurs.

Alex lagged behind, much deeper in the Dungeon, dragging himself through with that pitifully out of shape body. Brody could feel his friends Core splintering from exhaustion through the link he was certain only he could feel. Alex couldn't sense Brody's emotions, that much was clear, but Brody could feel every pang of panic and fatigue, alongside the fear of losing an important part of anatomy.

What a crude clause.

Brody might think himself better than everyone, but he was not going to let his single friend and his tether to the simulacrum layer of reality break here. Not to some pervert with such a tired Dungeon. He saw such potential in his reality brother, and it would be shameful to Brody's existence if Alex was to perish.

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Paper tried to splice him from towering cabinets while the drawers tried to knock him off his feet. Up ahead, Brody could hear the mumbling shambles of those zombies in that disgusting farm where each and every one of them was the same. Paper flapped around him like swarming bees, easily ignored and much slower, but something about that room of infinitely smaller cubes irked him. Perhaps it was the flat nature of it, or the sameness. How could one allow themselves to be but a simply copy? Sure, he recognized the irony of the anger. But Brody was not just a copy any longer. He growled deep in his chest and made up a few precious seconds so that he might enjoy himself in that room of cubes. Alex was far behind, and he had a lot of anger to get out.

Just no killing. I must contain myself.

Into the cubicle farm with a high chin he skidded to a halt. Rows upon rows of purple partitions stretched everywhere, with those jaundice-skinned Monsters with crooked ties and claws. Hundreds of them swiveled their dry eyes towards him and Brody let them drink him in. Let them gawk. It took them a moment, the idiots, but they erupted together to pour towards him in a tidal wave.

Their sight made his blood boil, but he could recognize that hatred from the squalid little ghoul's infection beset within him. The curse pressing in him made Brody want to shred them, and he could if he wanted to. He was stronger and smarter than the entirety of the whole room. But Alex's emotions pressed in their connection. His friend did not want him to be a ruthless killer, and quite frankly, Brody found the whole ordeal of becoming a murderous beast beneath him.

Harm isn't kill though, is it? Alex is not here to pass judgement.

One lunged with claws curling for his throat, but of course Brody sidestepped with ease to catch its wrist and hurl the Monster into a cluster of colleagues. They fell like bowling pins. Systems, the contact, the violence of it, was divine. His blood, his real, surging blood, pounded in his head, every muscle singing to stomp them all. The infection would make him crush and savor their…

No. He snarled to himself. That is not me. I am Brody, named as such from my friend and link to all manner of realities, Alex. I will not allow my emotions to control my sensibilities. It is unbecoming and a lackluster performance.

Brody vaulted high and ran through the room, kicking and driving his fists into the snarling horde uselessly snapping in his wake. The curse in his Core whispered darkly to revel in his savagery, to become the beast he could be. But Brody would not descend into something so base, so animal. He would be elegance and power within, and he would make that real.

In that unspace where he was kept, he would carve his own place. The nothingness where he came from would not claim him. He would claim the unspace. Without knowing it, the pressure of the cruse of Mr. Mystical's bracelet collided with his stubborn will and fed into his [Imbue the Simulacrum] Skill. What was meant to break him filed him, and in the internal clash, Brody was becoming even more real within the simulacrum everyone calls reality.

As Brody let off steam in the cubicle room, Alex stumbled forward. There wasn't much time left in the timer, and he would let Brody have up until the last moment to zip over with his second part of [Illusory Copy]. He remained in the hallway outside of Scrum Lord's office and knew that he could not make it back himself. Even teleporting to Brody was going to hurt terribly. His body was without Essence, and he would risk cracking his Core from exhaustion. It was a risk he had to take, however.

"Not losing my testes." He grumbled and tried not to pass out.

[Deal Timer – 0:20]

"Still here?" Scrum Lord poked his tip out of the door. "Looks like we'll be going through your onboarding shortly then. I thought you had more spunk in you, Alex. I must say, I am disappointed in you—"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up? System, you are such a chode." Alex moaned and activated the second part of the Skill. It was time. All he could hope was that Brody had made it.

Alex screamed as the Skill cracked his Core further, breaking apart and sucking in some of life force. His throat turned raw as he forced the damned thing to kick in. Payment would be due for his decision, in the form of a brutal Essence hangover and a shorter life span. He also hoped his Skills were going to work properly when he next awoke. Fortunately, the Skill worked, and Alex blinked away. Unfortunately, he did not get to see the shock of on the face of the world's largest dickhead.

Brody paced around the lobby of the Dungeon. Now that he had time to examine the place, it was revealed to be cheap lacquer over a rotten interior. The tile wasn't perfect, the trim was crooked, the lights were slightly different types, and there was dust in the corners. He had made it through the cubicle room, of course. Blown off a bunch of steam as well with his fists and feet and a lot of crying Monsters.

He was proud of himself, as he hadn't killed a single Monster through his tear, just as Alex would have wanted. And would you look at that? For his efforts, he could tell he was going to upgrade his most important Skill. Would it be enough to take on Mr. Mystical and his prattling? He couldn't say. He just wanted Alex to take his space so he could go back to the unspace and figure it out. Maybe he could keep gaining strength under the guise of weakness. Brody laughed internally. He quite liked this new idea of irony. Yes, he would add it to his personality!

The connection with Alex trembled, unstable from his link's exhausted Core. Brody knew he was coming and did not look forward to returning to the cage in the unspace. He looked down at the terrible handwritten note held in his hand. Hopefully Alex could read it. Brody had written a a serious spanking in the cubicle room. What? Bloody cheeks resulted in the note, and Brody got results. He could barely read and hoped that the writing would make sense upon Alex reading it.

Alex activated the Skill, and Brody sighed. Each time it felt like his being was erased from reality, because each time he was erased from this version of reality. Every single fiber screamed in pain, and he had just enough time to crumple the note in his fist before he was sent back to the unspace.

Help me, Brother. Until next time.

Alex popped into Brody's position and fell to one knee. He looked around and saw that he was indeed within the lobby of the Dungeon.

"You made it. You bastard, you did it." Alex grunted and stumbled toward the exit of the Dungeon as the System chimed in his head.

[Contract with Richard Shaftwell – Scrum Lord Supreme – The Sprint Reaper Complete]

[In accordance with the Contract, Alex will keep Patty's Keynote Klicker 2000 and not be subject to a year of service within Scrum Lord's organization. He will also keep his testicles.]

He barely read it and did not notice the wad of paper balled in his fist as he pushed through the door to exit the Dungeon. Deeper within, Richard Shaftwell grumbled and wrote a strongly worded email to all his trapped employees. Patty was to go on leave of absence for a single day for mental stress, which would cause a backlog of tasks.

The Path was bustling, and due to the overbright lights, Alex had no idea what time it was, or how long he had been trapped in the Dungeon. The portal hung exactly where it was supposed to be, however. People swerved around it like an undulating hole in reality was part of their typical lunch experience.

His Core was throbbing, sending shocks throughout his body, and Alex allowed himself to fall face first into the espresso portal just as he passed out from exhaustion. The note was still grasped in his fist.

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