James A. Hunter
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Backrooms 3: Kiosk Kingdom - Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2025-03-27 04:26:42 +0000 UTCChapter Eleven – Suburban Grind
“More incoming!” Jakob shouted, his Faulty Smoke Alarm Relic shrieking as he backpedaled toward us, both shields up and ready.
We were grinding our way through the suburban paradise-turned-nightmare, inching ever closer to the fireworks kiosk that would drop us down to the forty-ninth floor.
“This is the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life,” Harper beamed as a fresh wave of shambling Sunnysiders lurched toward us.
She activated Moving Walkway and burst into action, pulling the odd soccer flags from her back then darting back and forth as she planted them in a neat grid. When she stabbed the the last of four flags into the ground, she fed a small trickle of Mana into one and all of them burst to life with an eerie blue glow.
Turned out, they were Amplification Boundary Flags—a unique type of Artifact that increased Healing and Mana Regen and boosted all damage to enemies inside the area of effect. As soon as she was done, she took to the air, her wings buzzing with prismatic light as she posted up behind me. I floated a good twenty feet above the ground, ready to unleash spells as the Sunnysiders drew closer.
As soon as Jakob was firmly inside of the range of the formation flags, he whirled around to face the monstrous creatures charging toward us.
With the HOA out of the picture, the Kevins and Kathys no longer looked even remotely human. Their bodies had twisted into eldritch abominations—warped flesh, grotesque shapes—and under the glow of the blood-red moon overhead, they looked even more horrifying.
One of the Kevin’s slammed directly into Jakob with a bellow of rage, but the Cendral easily repelled the creature with his shield. Four more Kevins followed in the first’s wake, accompanied by a trio of Kathy’s who surged forward on overgrown tendrils of hair.
With a thought, I urged Drumbo, Synthia, and Timmy forward to meet the onslaught.
Drumbo hit one of the Kevins like a wrecking ball of pure force, knocking the creature back a few paces. The Sunnysider lashed out with a fist shaped like a mailbox, followed by a wind blade that opened a large gash across the Horror’s torso.
Drumbo’s health dropped, but Harper was already on it.
A silvery halo of light appeared above her as she activated Duct Tape Triage. Bands of matte gray duct tape shot from her outstretched hands, zipping through the air to seal the gash and instantly heal the wound.
Timmy took on another of the Kevins, who was desperately trying to flank Jakob. The Horror’s claws sliced clean through Kevin’s arm like it was paper, and then it triggered its active Relic, Butcher’s Maw. The effect kicked in immediately, boosting Timmy’s Athleticism, Toughness, and Health Regen. Unfortunately, it also came with a nasty side effect—an unrelenting hunger that could only be satisfied through violent cannibalism. Timmy dropped low and scooped up the fallen appendage then promptly shoved it into his maw, eating nosily even as it continued to fight.
Croc and Ed battled the remaining Kevins while Temp and Synthia took the fight to the incoming Kathys. Together, they tore through limbs and ruthlessly gutted the Sunnysiders, who were all under level thirty.
Ed blasted the monsters with his enchanted 1911 and unleashed a gout of flame so hot I could feel the residual heat even a good forty feet away.
Temp hacked and slashed with her cleaver, opening huge gashes and carving off swatches of meat with every blow. Although the Sunnysiders were resistant to most types of physical damage, she augmented the attacks with Smallpox Blanket, dealing extra Disease damage with every swing of her weapon.
Croc effortlessly tore the Kevins apart with flailing tentacles or shredded them with metallic claws that gleamed crimson from the light of the moon. Remy, Croc’s conjured slug, wriggled across the ground before launching itself at a nearby Kathy. It latched on with a circular mouth studded with teeth and began burrowing its way inward with formidable mandibles sharper than a surgeon’s scalpel.
From my elevated vantage, I could see the slug wriggling beneath the surface of the Kathy’s taut skin. A few seconds later, the creature exploded, blowing a whole the size of a bowling ball right through the center of the Sunnysider’s stomach.
At level forty-three, I could’ve ended the threat without breaking a sweat—but that wasn’t the point. We wanted this fight to drag out. The goal wasn’t a quick kill; it was giving Harper the chance to level up. And that wouldn’t happen if I wrapped things up too fast. So instead, I focused on using some of my less lethal spells. I cast StainSlayer Maelstrom then activated Fault Spike five times in quick succession, summoning jagged forests of spikes from the ground that pinned the Sunnysiders in place.
Another Kathy appeared on a nearby rooftop, but I hit her with a powerful dose of Existential Dread. Since they were no longer under the Iron Will of the HOA, the spell took hold immediately and the Kathy froze in place, a look of terror filling her eyes as she contemplated the futile nature of her own existence.
Casting so many powerful spells all at once burned through my Mana Pool, but that was also part of the plan.
A blue coil of light burst outward from Harper’s chest and connected to me like a tether, allowing me to tap directly into her Mana Pool. Not only did she gain Experience from healing, she also gained EXP by buffing allies, replenishing Mana reserves, and increasing our overall damage output. The formation flags helped with that, but so did spells like Arcane Jumper Cables.
I had to begrudgingly admit that maybe I’d been wrong about her.
Harper might’ve been lower level, but she was already pulling her weight—and honestly, it was just nice having her around.
Even though mowing down wave after wave of Sunnysiders was gruesome work, her bubbly enthusiasm never wavered. She wasn’t like Temperance, who got a little too much joy from the act of killing itself. Harper didn’t love the violence, but she did love having a purpose. She genuinely seemed to enjoy being part of a team. She enjoyed being able to help.
That kind of energy was contagious. And in a weird way, I found it… refreshing.
I pushed the thoughts away and cast a fresh wave of StainSlayer Maelstrom to help whittle the Sunnysider’s down even further, than extended one finger like a pistol and unleashed precision strikes of Hydro Fracking Blast, drilling holes through each of the stragglers. I made sure to cut the attacks off just short of killing the Dwellers, but got them low enough that one good blow would finish ’em off.
When one of the Sunnysiders was finally knocking on death’s door, Harper would shoot forward like an arrow and cast Shock Therapy. A sizzling arc of blue-white light would rush from her hands finishing the job. More Sunnysiders fell to the ground, their corpses still smoking from the surge of electricity.
Although the fight was rather run of the mill at this point, it did provide me with ample opportunity to experiment with the Fluid Dynamics Relic I’d picked up from the Brood Matriarch.
Although the spell wasn’t all that powerful by itself, when used in conjunction with Hydro Fracking Blast, it was truly a force to be reckoned with.
I triggered the ability as I cast another round of Hydro Fracking Blast, splitting the singular flow into several hair-thin strands of high-pressured water, capable of hitting multiple targets all at once. I could also “curve” each beam, which allowed me to effectively shoot around corners or avoid hitting friendly enemies who were in the way. Although splitting the beam meant that each dealt less burst damage on contact, it didn’t increase the cost of the spell and each beam still triggered the Scorching Erosion Affliction on effected enemies.
That alone made the Relic worth its weight in gold.
I fed more mana into the spell, waiting and watching in grim satisfaction as four more Sunnysiders burst into flames, their own blood fueling the conflagration.
Most didn’t last long after that. Not after Harper swooped in like an avenging angel, unleashing sizzling bolts of lightning.
When the last of the Sunnysiders finally fell dead, the members of my Rat Pack instantly scurried forward to loot the corpses, picking through Relics and arranging the bodies for easier transport.
I used my newest Blanket Fort ability, Conveyor Logistics, to instantly transport all the usable parts directly to the cooler. I’d still have to process them once I made it back to the store, but at least I wouldn’t have to haul the bodies around like some kind of old timey ghoul.
“I got two more levels!” Harper exclaimed, sounding just as excited as ever.
“What’s that put you at now?” Jakob asked, shaking gore from the edge of his shield.
“Twenty seven,” she said with a cheery grin.
This was the eleventh wave of Sunnysiders we’d killed, and the results spoke for themselves. Not only had she made some truly impressive gains, but Temp and Jakob had both picked up another two levels a piece, while I’d gained one, pushing me up to level forty-five.
Not bad for half a days’ worth of work.
Still, the Experience was getting less and less with each new round, and I got the feeling that the system—or rather the elusive Overseer who governed the system—wanted us to press on. It had ways to deter camping too long on any single floor, and I had no desire to get on the Researcher’s shit list. The last thing I needed was another upgrade to my Great White in a Barrel title.
Instead of descending, I rose even higher into the air, giving me a bird’s eye view of the suburban spawl stretching out below.
We were finally nearing the edges of the neighborhood and past that were the cornfields, home to the insatiably ravenous Kannibal Kids. So far, we’d avoided any run ins with the malformed children of floor twenty-four and that was probably for the best. They tended to move in large, well-coordinated packs and with the Bloodmoon up, they were all around level forty.
Even with our superior firepower, taking those things out would be a challenge.
Thankfully, we didn’t have much farther to go.
Off in the distance, I spotted a striped tent in bold shades of red and yellow, a massive banner draped across one side with the words Pyro Emporium scrawled across the front.
Bingo. That was our final stop. And unlike the last time I’d seen the kiosk, it was no longer surrounded by an impenetrable wall of Elite Sunnysiders barring the way.
Now, it was disquietingly abandoned, the tent flaps rustling in a slight breeze.
I cast Unerring Arrow just to be sure but wasn’t at all surprised when the line of blue light shot directly toward the tent. That was our way out. Or rather, our way down.
“We’re close,” I called out, dropping back down to the ground. “Just a few more blocks and the way looks clear. There are a couple of stragglers wandering around, but nothing like before. And no Kannibal Kids, which is a good sign.”
Though, to be honest, that was also strange. The tent was on the edge of the cornfields and should, in theory, be prime real estate for the flesh-eating youth. I idly wondered if the kiosk wasn’t home to something even the Kannibal Kids were afraid of.
That wouldn’t be too shocking since most of the kiosks were occupied by Dwellers of one kind or another. The one we’d entered through had been home to the Sales Sirens, and they’d been formidable enough… at least for the third floor.
If my hunch was right, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about meeting whatever called the Pyro Emporium home.
Still, the Kiosk Club Card temporary tattoos we all wore should let us pass.
Maybe. Hopefully.
With the bodies taken care of, we set out at a brisk pace, moving through the warren of streets and houses. We spotted the occasional Sunnysider as we walked, but most were docile so long as we gave them a wide berth and Jakob didn’t activate his Faulty Smoke Detector Relic, which drew the creatures like flies to shit.
In less than half an hour, we found ourselves standing on the outskirts of the neighborhood and within a stone’s throw of the kiosk entrance. Even though I knew we needed to go in, I felt a renewed knot of anxiety form in the pit of my stomach. Are we ready for this, I wondered, not sure if we would ever really know until we tried.
There was a palpable sense of dread lingering in the air and I could tell the others felt the same way.
“Well,” I finally said as the silence stretched on, “there’s no point standing around and twiddling our thumbs. We ready to do this or what?”
“We could always wait a little longer,” Croc suggested. I could hear the unease in the mimic’s voice. “Kill a few more waves of Sunnysiders and try to push Harper up to level thirty?”
On the surface, it wasn’t a bad idea, but I also knew in my gut that we were just stalling. Buying for time because none of us really wanted to face whatever horrors the next level had in store. But I also knew that the longer we waited, the closer the Flayed Monarch and his army would get.
Time was the one thing we didn’t have in abundance.
“No,” I said after a long beat, shaking my head, “this is what we’re here for. It’s time to shit or get off the pot.”
Steeling my resolve, I beelined for the kiosk, moving with purpose and intention but also extending my perception to check for potential dangers. As I got closer to the tent, the entire thing lit up with a red glow of warning.
There was definitely something waiting for us within—though whether traps or Dwellers I couldn’t say for sure.
I directed my trio of Horrors to take point, while I followed directly behind my wall of undead meat. They made great bullet catchers and could tank almost anything that might be waiting for us inside. Harper stayed close by, and Jakob and Temp flanked me on either side, while Croc and Ed brought up the rear—ready to make a tactical retreat if shit hit the fan.
From the outside, the tent was rather small, but like so many places inside the Backrooms, the interior was dramatically larger. The tent’s canopy rose fifty feet or more into the air and rows of shelves covered in fireworks of every description stretched off into the distance. Colorful signs clung to the walls, advertising different bundle deals.
Lil’ Pyro’s Starter Kit – Training Wheels for future felons!
The Gender Reveal Crisis Pack – Blue? Pink? Mushroom cloud? Lite it up and find out!
Dynamite – That’s it, literally just full sticks of dynamite!
My favorite was definitely the Freedom Bucket – Comes in a used fried chicken bucket and contains enough explosives to throw off the shackles of British tyranny!
I wasn’t sure how useful these would be against the creatures on the floors below, but I planned to help myself before moving on.
That thought quickly vanished, however, when I caught a flash of movement in the corner of my eye and a creature stepped into view.
The Dweller was nine-feet tall and skeletally thin, though most of that height seemed to be its legs. Lanky arms trailed down from narrow shoulders and reached all the way past its knees. In some ways, it had a similar build to the Kannibal Kids who roamed the nights, but that was where the similarities ended.
The monster wore a red, white and blue pinstriped suit and a ridiculous blue top hat studded with white stars. It looked like an American flag had exploded all over him. His face was pinched and narrow, a wispy white beard trailing down past his chest, and a pair of sunken eyes burned with actual fire. He smelled like napalm—the sickly scent of sulfur and gasoline lingering around him like a haze.
A codex entry appeared above the monstrous figure.
Dweller 0.24642A – Uncle Sam – Kiosk Merchant of Death [Level 42]
You ever wonder what would happen if you distilled 250 years of unchecked patriotism, late-stage capitalism, and subsidized corn syrup together in a deep fryer shaped like an F-22 Raptor? No? Well, you’re about to find out, because here comes Uncle. Fucking. Sam. And he’s not here to kiss babies or campaign for your vote—he’s here to liberate your inside from your outsides, all while drinking a frosty one with the boys.
In combat, Uncle Sam is a one-man military-industrial complex.
He hurls bald eagles like heat-seeking missiles, comes equipped with a full complement of white-phosphorus grenades, and will drone strike your ass from low orbit if you step on the wrong side of freedom. He bleeds gasoline, sweats napalm, and his tears cure communism. And don’t bother running—no one outruns Uncle Sam. Especially since he has NASCAR-branded twin jet turbines strapped to his calves.
Do not ask what Uncle Same can do for you, ask what you can do for Uncle Sam—and what you can do is die screaming while engulfed in red-white-and-blue hellfire.
God bless, motherfucker. You're on his soil now.
I dismissed the notification and locked eyes with the towering figure blocking the way, silently praying we wouldn’t have to throw down. At the same time, though, some part of me wanted to fight this thing. The creature radiated an aura of barely restrained fury so intense it was hard to think about anything else. It had to be some kind of passive aggro aura, like Jakob’s Faulty Smoke Detector, only cranked to eleven. And even knowing that didn’t make it any easier to ignore.
My Grit was high enough to keep me from lunging at the thing, but I wasn’t so sure about the others.
Temperance’s knuckles were white on the handle of her cleaver, and even Jakob—usually cool as ice—looked like he was about to snap. Ed and Croc seemed mostly unfazed, but Harper, normally a ball of sunshine, seemed like she was a heartbeat away from going for the throat.
That was concerning and could spell big trouble if we didn’t move quickly enough.
The creature’s eyes flicked to the Kisok Club Card branded on back of my hand. There was a momentary flash of disappointment in Uncle Sam’s fiery eyes, but then that terrible aura of violence dissipated—though it didn’t vanish completely.
“New kiosk members,” the creature said, its voice surprisingly smooth and dignified—exactly how I imagined Honest Abe Lincoln might’ve sounded. “I love meeting new shoppers, especially of the patriotic variety. You are patriotic aren’t you?” he asked, eyes burning a little brighter.
I could tell that the question was more than it seemed.
The wrong answer would surely be an invitation to bloodshed.
I signaled for the others to stay quiet, since I figured one word from Jakob’s mouth would probably get us nuked into oblivion. If this nightmare really was the Backrooms embodiment of the American patriotic spirit, I figured he wouldn’t respond particularly well to anyone with a German accent—friend or not.
“I served with the Marines,” I said, “two combat tours oversees.”
“Ah, a fellow patriot then,” the creature said nodding in approval. “Be welcome here. We have everything you could ever need to celebrate in style or to incinerate your enemies into smoking piles of ash. You can also use the network to buy, sell, or trade from connected kiosks all across the Backrooms.”
As much as I wanted to browse the shelves and pick up munitions, I didn’t want to stay here a moment longer than necessary. Even with Uncle Sam’s aura no longer on full blast, I wasn’t sure how long Temperance would last before she came unglued and tried to murder the monster. Although I was reasonably sure we could take this guy in a fight if push came to shove, I was worried that might make getting through the rest of the kiosks a nightmare.
“I appreciate the offer,” I said slowly, “but we’re not looking to buy. We’re more interested in using the kiosk to move down to floor forty-nine.”
The fire in Uncle Sam’s eyes reignited and the weight of the terrible aura returned in full force.
“No, that won’t be possible,” he said, shaking his head back and forth, back and forth. His beard waggled as he spoke. “I’ve been given strict orders to let no one pass. You may shop or you may leave, but you will not go any further. Not from this location.”
The growing sense of dread amplified inside my chest, but I stayed cool.
“But you’re Uncle Sam,” I replied, “who could possibly tell you what to do?”
The creature grinned revealing a mouth full of pointed shark teeth. “Corporate sponsors, of course,” he said matter of factly. “All members of the franchise are beholden to the will of the Franchisor. Surely you must realize we all serve one master or another.”
The anxiety hardened into resolve.
If this asshole was taking orders from the Franchisor, then it meant he was also in the pocket of the Flayed Monarch. The HOA had been the first line of defense, and clearly this chucklefuck was the second. That’s when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was only one way this could end.
With blood. A lot of blood.
Comments
James A. Hunter
Thank you so much for reading and supporting me here. Means the world to me!
Nilbog
All hope is lost
Nilbog
Thought we were getting 2 chapters this week
Nick Skeen
Now I'm all caught up and will have to wait for new chapters! Good stuff!
