I begin to prepare for the next time we venture into the dungeon. This time, I hope to visit more than three places before having to return.

  I start by putting another MRE into my backpack, making sure it's not the omelet again, before slipping another box of ammo into my pocket. Then, I empty my backpack and duffle bag, leaving only my now refilled canteen inside.

  Monty is waiting for me in the loading area.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  I nod, and he opens the bunker door.

  I step out with the trolley and watch as the door starts to close. Monty sprints out just before it seals shut.

  Once we're far enough away from the bunker, I activate Scavenger’s Intuition and start leading Monty toward the first building.

  As we approach, we spot something ahead—possibly the largest boar I’ve ever seen. It stands nearly as tall as me and stretches at least fifteen feet long.

  We watch in awe as the boar charges forward. A second later, we hear a crash, followed by the unmistakable sounds of orcs fighting.

  Taking advantage of the distraction, we sneak past and continue deeper into the dungeon.

  After several minutes of walking, we arrive at what looks like a pawnshop.

  Inside, the shop is filled with all the junk you'd expect—fake swords, odd collectibles, and random antiques.

  I spot a framed document and take a closer look.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  "The Venezuelan Declaration of Independence, huh? That’s pretty neat."

  Nearby, I find a WWII gas mask with an original filter—definitely something I wouldn’t bring anywhere near my face. Those old filters were filled with asbestos or cinnabar or whatever else they used back then.

  I move to the counter and check the display case.

  Inside, several fake watches sit on velvet cushions. One almost fools me—until I realize it says "Armenia" instead of "Armani".

  Glancing behind the counter, I spot something useful—a quiver. With this, I won’t have to pull arrows out of my bag one at a time. Too bad I left my bow back at the base.

  I place the quiver on the trolley and keep searching.

  Monty is on the other side of the store, hidden behind a wall. I have no idea what he’s looking at, but I’ve just found the real treasure of this place.

  A full suit of plate armor.

  I put it on and waddle my way toward Monty. The cheap stainless steel armor wasn’t built for mobility.

  As I click and clank toward him, Monty bursts out laughing.

  “You look like a dumbass in a tin can.”

  I sigh and start taking the armor off, but I leave the helmet on to bring back to base.

  Then I round the corner—and see why Monty was so excited.

  A glass case filled with firearms.

  Inside are pistols, shotguns, rifles—even a sniper rifle, along with several boxes of ammo.

  Monty grins. “The more firepower we have, the better, right?”

  I shrug. “How do we open it?”

  Without hesitation, Monty kicks the glass where the two doors meet. It shatters instantly.

  “Like that. Now help me load these onto the trolley.”

  We pile the guns and ammo onto the trolley, then head to the backroom of the shop.

  Inside, we find an iron wall locker—just like the glass display case, but locked.

  We force it open.

  Inside are more pistols, an MP5, and a weird gun I’ve never seen before.

  It looks like someone took a Thompson, shrunk it, and slapped a drum magazine on top.

  I pick it up and check the tag on the grip.

  "American-180."

  I glance at Monty. “This one’s mine. I’m keeping it.”

  He shrugs. Doesn’t care.

  As we turn to leave, something catches my eye on a nearby shelf.

  A pocket watch.

  I grab it and slip it into my pocket before pushing the trolley back into the storefront.

  Monty stops in front of the Venezuelan Declaration of Independence and asks, “Can I take this?”

  I shrug. “Take whatever you want. I don’t care.”

  He nods, puts the framed document on the trolley, and we head out—ready to find the next building.