Dungeon Raider System

David tapped on his cellphone for the umpteenth time that day asking for a pizza to be delivered to his apartment, but the result was the same as the times before. Although the App continued working, there was nobody to deliver the food to his doorstep which was unfortunate considering the current curfew the megacity of New Texas was under.

"That's the thing about apps, you can't speak to people like in the old times," He scoffed before realizing there was a phone number and luckily, someone picked up. "What the fuck is taking so long? Why has no one come to deliver the pizza I ordered?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, but we are currently in a curfew. There's no way we can send the pizza to you." The young woman who answered the call replied, anxiousness vivid in her voice."

"But you did pick up the phone, so that means you're at the restaurant. Are you not?"

"I am, and so are a few other employees who live too far away to go back home. But..." The employee was cut short by a very annoyed David.

"Just what I needed, a fucking slum dweller that can't do their job properly. Listen, I'll pay you two hundred credits, but only if you deliver the thing right now." A pause was made as the employee reflected on the offer and David could also hear her talking to other people about it. Two hundred credits was no small thing, especially for such lowly paid employees, but even that was not enough to make people who lived in the slums to break the curfew.

Sure, if they were unemployed they would risk their lives to steal a loaf of bread or a synthetic food package, but not even when submerged in the most horrid poverty would they ever consider breaking the curfew.

"I'm afraid no one's willing to do it, have you considered cooking something for yourself?"

"I'm a businessman, I make more in an hour than you make in the entire year!" He growled, glossing over the fact that he did not know how to cook and his maid had long left his place to go back home. The same maid that would endure his abuse and ignore his grabby hands, the same one that would do anything he asked for money refused to stay with him during curfew hours. That should have been his first clue that what he was thinking on doing was a bad idea, but the irony of having a bank account with enough money to buy the entire restaurant and yet finding himself hungry pushed him to a perilous way of thinking. "since you're already there, if I go will you have my order ready?"

"Sure, but I don't think..."

"That's exactly why you're a lowly restaurant employee and I own half of the parking lots in the west district. Because you don't think." He scoffed before hanging up the phone, ignoring the unspoken rule of 'never piss off your servers', but then again, as one of the richest in the entire west district accustomed to getting away with his' the thought never even crossed his mind.

The first bump in his quest for pizza came right when he attempted to exit his apartment, which was actually the entire floor to himself, as the elevator wasn't working. Very few times in David's life had being rich been a hindrance to him, but now it played against him as he found himself above the eightieth floor.

"The way down is way easier than the way up and by the time I come back the curfew will be already over," He said to himself then continued with a lighthearted chuckle as if he didn't just yell to the top of his lungs to someone who was already having a bad day. "besides, my doctor always says I could use some exercise."

The way down was indeed easier than the way up, but it wasn't until he reached the street that he realized the mistake he made as the streets were empty and only then did it sink in that a curfew also meant no taxi service. He wasn't worried about the army or the rangers finding him breaking the curfew as he knew a well placed bribe could go a long way, but walking felt too menial.

That gave way to yet another irony, which was that he possessed at least one car per parking lot and he did own plenty of them across the city, but reaching them and picking up one of is cars would take him longer than just walking to the restaurant.

"Whatever, I'll just eat there and recover then I'll ask one of those slum dwellers to drive me here or something." He spoke out loud once more, not even thinking that low paid employees couldn't possibly own a car.

Listening only to his own footsteps the man started looking left and right thinking that maybe, just maybe, he had made the wrong choice by deciding to go to the restaurant and he inwardly vowed to make the life of each of those poor employees hell when he made it.

Unfortunately to David, such was his luck that after only five blocks he started feeling dizzy and tired. He could see himself still walking, but for some odd reason it seemed as though he could not control his movements. He wondered for an instant if there was something funny in the air, but then a throbbing pain in his heart that dropped him on the ground informed him the cause was actually a stroke. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and started dialing the emergency number, but due to the high number of calls a warning message informed him it was going to take longer than usual.

Had he listened to the doctor who warned him multiple times of his health, the government who mandated an obligatory curfew, the restaurant employee or if he at least thought things through before exiting his apartment he would have been safe in a comfortable apartment that ironically was fully stocked with food for a month. David lost hope as he gripped on his chest as though trying to reanimate himself, a single tear trickling down his eyes before he closed them and heaved a sigh.

It was then that a black ambulance showed up and a man hurriedly walked out reaching for David who could not even speak.

"Everything's going to be fine, the ambulance is here." The man said in a soothing voice.

David didn't know if it was the relief or if the man did something to him, but he was starting to feel better already. Not to the point of moving or doing anything, but at least he was now able to speak.

"Thank you, thank you so much. I thought no one would come, I was so scared." David cried.

"Don't worry about it, I'm just doing my job." The man said as he placed David on a stretcher and lifted it, allowing David to see the ambulance which seemed to him like the most beautiful vehicle he had ever laid eyes upon even though the only remarkable thing about it was its lustrous black color.

"What kind of ambulance is that, is it from the slums?" David asked.

"I do spend quite a while in the slums, but we provide the same service to all." The man replied oozing pride about his work.

"Non profit then... I guess charity is not so bad after all." As the vehicle darted across the empty streets David reflected on his life and the decisions he made. His misdoings had been many throughout the years but he had never been the one to shoulder the consequences, which now started weighing heavy on his heart and decided on the spot that he wanted to change his life for the better.

Becoming a better person was bound to be difficult, but a near death experience was the exact impulse he needed and he reflected on all the ways he could be a better man. He looked outside the window that due to his position only allowed him to see a small portion of the skyline and it was then that he noticed something was off. Instead of taking him downtown to the hospital, they were taking him near to the wall.

"I think you took the wrong way." He awkwardly said as he attempted to move, realizing his hands were strapped to the stretcher.

"That's impossible, all the ways lead to our destination." Said the man.

"No, but, you see... I'm an important businessman. I can't be treated in the slums, those clinics are for beggars only." He said with the same disgust he used before 'turning a new leaf' in his life.

"Rich or poor, it doesn't really matter," The man shook his head, then slowed down right in front of the west gate. "something's off." The man continued.