Sadnesslaughs

“Smooth as ever.” While my coworkers celebrated, I stared blankly at my screensaver. The small clownfish bounced against the sides of my monitor, while I remained transfixed by the situation.

Something about the situation felt off. I couldn’t explain why it felt off. But it just did. A supernatural entity doing something out of the kindness of its own heart was unheard of. Sure, she was screwing over my boss, who was, in the politest terms I could find, a raging asshole, but still….

Suddenly a shark dashed across my screen, its sharp teeth glistening as it snapped up those small clownfish before swimming off. Leaving my screen a bubbling, empty blue sea. I stared at my icons, horrified, only for a chilly hand to hit my shoulder.

“Hello there, Mr. Jenkins. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Damish. The stunningly beautiful trickster of the corporate world. Any business that has ever hit the top fifty lists has been influenced by me.” She bowed, pushing her face towards my neck, breathing down it. “You should be celebrating with the others. You’re going to be riiiich.” She exaggerated the word, letting her ice-cold breath rattle through me. I tensed and shifted in my seat, and she moved closer.

“W-why are you working against my boss then?” I asked, trying to push myself out of the seat. No matter how much I squirmed or dug my fingers into the thin cushion of my chair, I couldn’t pull myself away from her. There was just something commanding about her, something that made my body freeze whenever she drifted near me.

“Why not? He’s a prick. An asshole. The complete package of bad terms. Respect's not a two-way street when I’m the one that holds all the power. Ya’ll should know that. He should have groveled and begged for my help. Instead, he dared to tell me what he wanted. No one orders me around.” She moved, sitting on the edge of my desk, staring at me. “His account's empty, and some of the money’s already gone through to your bank. All you have to do is approve it. You’re the only one who hasn’t yet.”

“I—”

“Jenkiiiiins,” Matthew shouted, my coworker throwing himself over my shoulder, raising his coffee cup towards the trickster. “What are you doing working? Celebrate with us. We’re rich. I got two-hundred thousand in my transfer. I can’t wait to tell the wife about that. She’s going to be over the moon.”

I slouched forward under his weight, peering back at the trickster, whose rosy pink eyes almost seemed to glimmer at my coworker’s display. Watching with a sly smile. “I’m happy for you, Matthew.” I said, politely trying to nod my head, even though his arm made it hard to shift my neck.

“Oh, this is great. We’ve been trying for a child too. Now, we have a nice little safety net. Sure, it’s not enough to live off, but it gives us a good nest to build upon. Thanks, lady.” He pulled away from me and patted Damish on her shoulder. The trickster gave him a kind smile that faded quickly when he left.

She snatched a tissue off my desk, wiping the spot that he had touched with a grimace, before directing that previous kind smile at me. “A safety net. Wouldn’t that be nice? You could start a family too.”

“I’m not interested in starting a family yet. Twenty-eight is too young for something like that.”

“Too old, you mean? Two hundred years ago, you would have been almost on your deathbed. You humans move so slowly now. You gave yourselves an extra twenty or so years with medicine and squandered it by working yourselves half to death. Education, work, retiring in your crappy years. What a life you humans have created.”

Those words stung, hitting a big insecurity of mine. The thought that my good years were wasted. Here I was, sitting in an office building, typing away my best years of health. What did I have to show for it? Some money? Barely more than anyone else. In fact, I was probably poorer than most. A few girlfriends here and there, but no long-term love. If I had some money, I could focus. I could get my life together. I could…. No… no, this is exactly what she wanted. She isn’t my friend. There’s always a catch.”

She leant forward and tenderly ran her hand through my hair. “Jenkins. What’s the point of fighting this? It’s a good thing. Do you have any dreams? Anything you want to achieve.”

“I.. well…” The tender touch lulled me into a daze, finding myself wanting to be patted more. There was something so comforting about it. Something that made me feel like I could actually achieve my goals. Then I felt sick. A twist in my stomach that something was dangerously wrong.

I threw my back into my chair, and its plastic wheels scooted along the carpet, banging me against the back wall of my cubicle. A few people peered over at the sound, before going back to their celebrations, assuming it had only been an accident. “No. I’m not taking that money. I don’t care if I'm making a mistake. I just… I’m not listening to you.”

She stared in silence, those pink eyes focused on me, before she scowled. “You lonely stain. You waste of human flesh and blood. You’re getting too big for your britches.” When her composure dropped, she almost sounded human. The words coming out with a southern tinge that I hadn’t noticed before. She stood, before pausing, as a buzzing noise came from her pocket. She pulled out her phone, placing it to her ear.

“WHAT?” she snapped at the voice on the other end. “Huh?” She flicked her gaze back over to me before staring off into space. “Really? Fine. If you say so.” She let out a huff, snapping the flip-phone shut. “I would have gotten you to give in.” Then she was gone. No puff of smoke or vanishing through the floor. She just ceased to be there. My screensaver returned to normal, the fish swimming back onto the screen while I caught my breath.

“Matthew!” A voice snapped from outside my cubicle, before being followed by screams. I jumped out of my chair, watching as my coworkers exploded into piles of money. Each one getting replaced by a stack of cash that had to have been in the millions. I ran over to the nearest person, trying to help, but it was pointless. Before I could even get close to them, they were gone. So, I just dropped to my knees, kneeling on a pile that used to be someone.

A hearty chuckle left the elevator doors as Mr. Davis stepped out. He passed the piles of money, giving each an approving nod. “This is even more than I expected. Finally, I can expand.” When he reached me, he didn’t even bother to look my way. “You’ve got some balls not taking that money. I respect someone with balls.” He said, despite not respecting me enough to look at me. “You’re being promoted.”

I didn’t know what to say. Confusion, anger, fear — all those feelings fought for dominance. “Ah-” was all I could manage. A meager noise that didn’t solve anything.

“I know what you’re going to say, kid. Oh, I could never take that promotion, you fat bastard. You killed my coworkers. I’m going to expose you to the media. Kid, none of that’s going to happen. Wanna know why? No one will even remember these people existed.”

“I… remember them.”

“Yeah, just you and me. People who were exposed to her magic. Everyone else will forget them. Better that way.” He picked up a handful of money and sniffed it. “Smells like a bright future for Advanced Minds.”

“Matthew…” I muttered. “He had a wife.”

“And in her mind, she never got married. She’ll vaguely remember a man she loved but never be able to match a face to him. That’s the deal, kid. She gets their souls; I get what their bodies are worth. Organs, blood, eyes. Everything has a value.”

“I don’t get it. How does that make everyone forget them?”

“Without a soul, you don’t exist. Simple as that. Life will balance things out. Parents who thought they had two kids will now have one, and stuff like that. Beautiful how life corrects itself.”

Beautiful. I gritted my teeth, searching the carpet for a weapon, or something I could use to avenge those who had died. I found a pen among some spilt paperclips and clenched it, pointing it up at him.

Mr Davis didn’t flinch. He didn’t even give me more than a half-glance. “It would be pointless, kid. It wouldn’t bring them back. They signed an agreement when they accepted my money. They should have read the terms listed in the bank transfer. I spared you. I could have let her tempt you into taking the money, and I didn’t. Why? Because I respected you for holding your own. We’ll need guts like that. I’m thinking of giving you a nice office on the floor below mine. One with a great view of the park and a three million dollar a year contract. How does that sound?” He extended his hand.

I wanted to slap his hand away. To spit in his face and tell him where he could shove those three million dollars. Yet, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring them back, and at least if I stayed here. There was a chance I could get my revenge at some point. My hand shook as I reached towards him, giving his hand a shake.

“Welcome to the big leagues, kid.”

“You know you’ll be punished for this someday. Right?”

“Of course. I’ll be burning for a hundred years when I die, which is why I have to set the world on fire before I reach that day. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this ride, and you should enjoy it too while it lasts. You might not be able to keep your soul forever.” He said, turning to the elevator. “I’ll have some guys come around to collect this money. My bank accounts empty, so they’ll need to deposit it right away. Can you make sure they don’t pocket anything?” When I didn’t answer, he just laughed. “I know ya’ll handle it.” He coughed. “I know you’ll handle it….”

You see a lot of strange things while working at a rural petrol station. People walking around without shoes or pants on, truck drivers on more caffeine than should be humanly possible, and now this…

I didn’t want to be rude, but it was hard not to stare at the massive, single eye behind the alien’s sunglasses. It was clear she’d gone to a lot of effort to create this human disguise, and honestly, the makeup wasn’t even the worst I had seen. That privilege would go to Daniela’s alien makeup on the set of First Contact. Still, even with her white powdered makeup, the alien’s blue skin shone through, making her ancestry obvious.

“Do you need some help?” I asked, giving her a forced customer-service smile. This was my first time seeing an alien in person. Which made sense. No alien is going to the middle of nowhere on their first trip to Australia. No, they go to Sydney, Brisbane, Perth. Or, if they hate themselves, they go to Canberra. But not here.

Not out in Woop Woop.

She stared back at me through her sunglasses, triangle-shaped lips wobbling. I did my best to discreetly step away from the counter, worried she would shoot out a tiny secondary mouth that would eat the skin off my face. That’s the problem with meeting an alien. You can’t help but remember every scary sci-fi flick you had seen.

“Captain James Hammer?” She asked, her shy voice wobbling.

“James Hammer?” I repeated. How did an alien know I was in First Contact? Only three thousand people had ever bought that silly film, and I was one of them. How did an alien know about it?

“You’re him. The captain? Aren’t you?” She pulled out a silver device that looked like a phone, holding it up to my face. Since she was short, I had to bend forward to see the screen, leaving my face in perfect second mouth range. But at this very moment, I couldn’t have cared less if she ate me. The thrill of being recognized outweighed my survival instincts.

The picture on her phone was indeed of me. It showed a screenshot from the film, one where I was standing over the defeated evil aliens called the Baderings. My arm was wrapped around Daniela’s waist, with her blue face-paint already peeling off her skin. That’s what happens when you buy cheap face paint. It peels off whenever the person starts sweating, and when you're filming in a hot warehouse, sweat is unavoidable.

“Yes. That’s me. I’m Tom Valerin. It’s always nice to meet a fan.” I said, dropping the fake smile for a genuine one. I extended my hand, hoping she knew what a handshake was. Always nice to meet a fan, I said, as if I had ever met one before. No one was a fan of First Contact, and I doubt my hernia awareness advertisements had any fans either…

She let out the most bloodcurdling shriek I had ever heard in my life. The noise was so loud it popped the cash register open and caused the pies in the pie warmer to break apart, spilling their mince insides all over the machine.

“I’m such a big fan. I have seen your movie at least three thousand times. Oh, this is the best day ever. Why is Earth’s biggest star working here? Are you undercover? Or are you playing it cool? I can play it cool too.” She said, ignoring my extended hand as she leaned against the counter. Her lean was anything but cool, with her body awkwardly slouching against the counter, leaving only her blue hair exposed, and the top of her massive eye.

“Earth’s biggest star? I’m barely a twinkle.” I laughed. As strange as she was, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. A fan. A genuine fan recognized me. I did my best to live up to the part, sucking in my gut and stopping myself from slouching.

“A twinkle?” She gasped, pushing herself upright against the counter. “You’re the galaxy! How can you say that? You’re a huge actor. One of the best.” She sounded offended, which didn’t make much sense to me. I was the one who said it. Why was she offended on my behalf?

“That’s kind of you to say. Really. It is. I tried my best in that movie. Even if the budget wasn’t great, and the director was eccentric. I honestly believed it was going to be my big break. Guess when the only people that call you back are for medical advertisements, any movie role seems like a break.” I said, before realizing I was talking too much about myself. “Would you like an autograph? A picture?”.

“All of them, please. Oh, can you say your famous phrase too?” She clutched her small, three-fingered hands together, and I paused.

“My famous phrase?”

“Oh, sorry. You have so many. I really like the one at the end. When you beat up the leader.”

“The one where I’m like. I gave you Baderings a defeatings?” I asked, remembering the arguments I had with the director over that stupid line. I proposed the phrase. I gave you Baderings a Bad-tering. I thought it was clever, but he just told me he was the director, and if I didn’t want to read his lines, he would find someone who would. So, I relented.

“YES. YESSSSS.” She gushed. “My friends and I say it all the time. Ah, this is the best.” She fiddled with her phone’s gallery, swiping past hundreds of photos of me. Some had triangle kisses edited onto them, while others had little stars around them. She pointed the device at me, and I grinned.

“I gave you Baderings a bad-tering.” I said without thinking and saw her phone slowly lower. I had only had this fan for five minutes, and I had already disappointed her. “Sorry. I can do it again if you like.”

Her single eye watered, and my heart sank. I had done it. I had lost my only fan. My confident stance faltered as I slumped against the counter, feeling like I had been kicked in the nuts. Actually, this felt worse. I couldn’t apologize again, so I played with my half-finished carton of Oak chocolate milk, trying to distract myself from the scene.

“That-” she sniffed. “THAT WAS GREAT. Did you come up with that yourself? EEEEH.” The eeeh came out as an electronic hiss, possibly because her translator couldn’t process the loud pitch. “Greatest actor ever. So cool. So cool.” She bounced on the spot, and my posture rose again.

“Yeah, I came up with that myself. Originally I wanted to say that line in the movie, but the director said no. I thought it was clever.”

“Clever? It’s brilliant. It’s genius.” She searched for something for me to autograph, and when she couldn’t find anything, she grabbed a random magazine off the shelf — one that had a much more famous celebrity on its cover. “Can you sign this?”

“If you bu—“ I stopped myself. I wasn’t going to make my only fan pay for an autograph. I grabbed a pen and hovered over Hugh Jackman’s face. “Um, I’ll do it on the back of the magazine.” I said, not wanting to scribble all over him.

“There’s good. Right in the middle.” She smiled.

“Sorry, Hugh.” I mumbled, scribbling all over him. I handed the magazine over before leaving my side of the counter. “How about a photo?”

“Oh, yes. That would be great. I can’t believe someone as famous as you has time for me.”

I crouched, getting my face close to hers. “I always have time for a fan.” I said, glad I got to say that at least once in my life. She took a photo on her phone, and I took one on mine, never wanting to forget the day. She then went and brought a few snacks, leaving me wondering something.

“Why are you out here? Wouldn’t you rather be in Sydney?”

“Sydney? I’m heading there tomorrow. I wanted to explore the area around it first. Apparently the countryside is pretty.”

“It is. Very lush and green, especially around this time.”

“I can’t wait to tell all my friends I met a celebrity. You're super famous on our planet.” She said, as she paid for her things.

“Um, I’m not famous for being a bad actor, am I?” I asked, recalling how many movies or actors I liked specifically for being bad. That hurt my ego a little. The thought that I was some cosmic joke was almost too much to handle.

“NOT AT ALL. You’re the best actor ever. No one’s seen a better depiction of a human captain. You should visit our planet sometime. You’ll probably get to meet our king and queen.”

“A king and queen. That would be nice.” I said, watching her as she left. For the next eight hours, I was working on a spiritual high. I felt on top of the world. Even when I went to bed that night, I dreamt of alien kings and queens, imagining a life where I was someone important.

Then, my phone buzzed, waking me up from my fantasy. I rolled over, seeing my boss’s ugly face on my screen. I hit accept call and yawned. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta come to work.”

“Why? I’m not rostered on today.”

“Just get down here or find another job.” He snapped, hanging up.

I groaned and rolled out of bed. After dressing myself, I rushed to work, finding my boss herding a bunch of aliens to the side of the petrol station. He gave me an annoyed grunt, motioning me over. The aliens all had some form of merchandise on. Shirts, posters, and even plush toys, each one depicting me in some way.

“I’m not sure what the hell is going on here. But I can’t have them disrupting my business. Sort it out.”

The aliens cheered when they saw me, and I gave my boss an apologetic look. I was going to say sorry to him before realizing something. I didn’t need to apologize to him. I was Captain James Hammer, and I had found my people. “I quit.” I said, heading towards the crowd of aliens.

Tiffany rubbed the scar on her neck, unconsciously wincing as she entered Morgan Fields Trading. The office, which had once held her captive, was now devoid of any life. No longer did they have people posing as employees at the front desks or guards watching which doors people went through. Now, there was only a vacant, dusty front desk, with a scattering of empty cubicles down the hallway beside it.

“Bringing back some bad memories? We can take a break if you like,” Tim said, trying his best to keep his source comfortable. He couldn’t even imagine what was going through her mind at this very moment. How uncomfortable she must have felt when she learnt the truth.

“No, it’s fine. My neck just started hurting.” She admitted, rubbing the mark with her nails, only to gasp when a warm trickle of blood hit her finger.

“Careful,” Tim dug through his camera bag, handing her a tissue. “Here.” He gave her what he hoped was a comforting smile as she wiped away the blood, cleaning the mark. Tim could still see the faint four-pronged needle marks from where the device had once sat, and still, he couldn’t wrap his head around the science behind it. How did something attached to a person’s neck use their brainpower? The longer he thought about it, the less he wanted to know the answer.

“Sorry. The doctor said it’s a side-effect among the former employees. Something about us subconsciously trying to claw the device out of our necks, even though it’s not there anymore. Something about a trauma response?”

“Its horrible. I can’t believe Mr. Fields would do this to his employees.”

“It was cheaper than paying for processors. A human brain is cheaper to run calculations and simulations from than a computer. It allowed them to predict stocks before their competitors. It’s genius in a way.” She admitted, only to stop walking. She had shocked herself, surprised that she would say something like that after everything that had happened.

“That’s a very capitalist way of looking at it. HR might disagree, though.” He said, with a small sigh following those words. “Can’t believe all the higher-ups were in on it. A bad CEO isn’t uncommon, but an entire board with not a single moral between them. What’s going on with the world?”

“Guess they thought they would get away with it. They only got caught because a few employees started telling their doctors they were getting bad brain fog. They traced it back to here, and then the raid happened.”

“Yes, I remember that day well. I was lined up outside with at least forty other journalists, scrambling to get a picture or interview with the officers on the scene. We had a tip that something big had happened, but no one suspected it was something like that.” As they neared the previously off-limits door to the back offices, Tim got out his camera, fiddling with the buttons. “Speaking of the side-effects. How are you coping?”

“Fine. I have a lot of vitamins that I need to take. Mainly to try and recover from the fatigue my body was put under during the long work sessions. They are worried about the long-term side-effects. Dementia, early brain decay, mood swings. All the fun things.” She said, almost laughing at how horrible it all was.

“Right. Like I told you before you agreed to the interview. Half the proceeds will go towards helping you and the other victims. I really wish I could have given you more, but my employer wouldn’t budge past fifty. Said he needed to cover the costs of producing the story, and so forth. Actually, we may also be looking for new employees too if you need a new job.”

“A job?” She hadn’t even thought about work. Not since the day they had pulled her out of the chair in a daze and dragged her to the hospital. “I’ll figure something out.” She said, not really answering the question, pressing her hands against the door in almost reverence. Only when she felt his concerned stare did she release the door.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? We can reschedule? I have my whole week free.”

“No. I think I need to do this.”

“Ok.”

“Its funny. We were never allowed to enter this place. There were always tons of security locks and guards. Now, it’s just a door. No locks. Just a door. I kind of wish they had never told me what had happened. That they just lied and said I had work fatigue and fainted. Then paid me some compensation and moved on.”

“You needed to know the truth. You all deserved to know that.”

Tiffany slowly nodded, pushing open the door. Inside, was a row of chairs that reminded Tim of an electric chair you would see in old movies. Each chair sat side by side in a row at least eight long and ten deep. Cords covered the chairs, with some old, dried blood patches being spotted on their cushions.

She walked past the chairs, letting her finger trace along the tops of them. “I can’t believe it. They drugged our water or coffee and waited for us to fall asleep. Then they took us back here and connected us to their devices until it was time to go home. I used to just think I was blacking out from being overworked.”

“You never questioned the gaps in your memory? How you didn’t know what work you had done that day or things like that?”

“I did initially, but they were clever. They allowed us to work normally at the start of our day, so most of us had some memory of working that day. Then, nothing. When you woke up, you were back at your desk. Usually, it was close to clocking-out time, so you would finish your fake work before leaving. Sure, it was strange, but no one really questioned it. It wasn’t like we were allowed to talk during our job, so everyone thought it was only them experiencing these things.”

“Horrible,” Tim said, keeping the camera focused on Tiffany, watching her pause on a seat with a name tag hanging off its right arm. “Notice something?”

“It’s my chair. This is where I used to sit.” She picked up the cord, looking at the needles with disgust and awe. The needles twitched, making Tiffany’s eyes follow its cord back to the large computer in the back of the room. “It’s still on.”

“Really? Someone should have turned it off. You should put it down.” Tim rushed over, turning his back on Tiffany, who now found herself focusing on his neck.

“Aren’t you curious how it works?”

Tim screamed as the needles dug into his neck, piercing through the flesh. He panicked, swinging his body around until his camera had fallen onto the floor. “What are you doing?” He heard a weird buzzing in his ears; the kind one would hear when a radio gets interference. The sound intensified until he secured his hand around hers, yanking himself free.

Tsssss

The device made a tiny metallic cry as it was pulled out, still having Tim’s fresh blood on the needles. Tiffany stared at it, confused.

“That’s right. They drugged us first. It doesn’t put you to sleep.” Then the realization of what she had done hit her, and she stepped back, covering her lips. “I’m so sorry, Tim. I felt like I needed to replace myself and I just… I’m sorry.”

Tim wanted to curse her out and roar about the throbbing hot pain in his neck, but he couldn’t when he saw her terrified expression. He kept one hand on his neck, stopping the blood-flow, while reaching into his bag to get another tissue. The whole time he was going through his bag, he didn’t look away from her, worried another strike would come. When he had the tissue, he used it to clean his hand, then covered the wound.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have scheduled it so soon. Really. It’s fine. Can you call me an ambulance?”

“Oh, sure.” Tiffany made the call, and soon Tim was in the back of an ambulance, getting checked over by the paramedics. Tim had told them the truth about the incident, even if he felt slightly guilty about it. He didn’t want to get Tiffany into trouble, but if she was having issues like that, they needed to be resolved before she hurt someone else. He wasn’t going to press charges or anything. He just wanted a doctor to be informed about the sudden change in her temperament.

The pair had parted ways when the ambulance was called, with some officers coming to take her to see the doctor who had been overseeing her case. They had agreed to meet again in a week, but after what had happened today, Tim suspected it could be at least a month until she was cleared for another interview.

Mud, rivers, and dirt. Ben had pushed through them all, desperately trying to escape the band of monsters who were pursuing him. In all his years of monster hunting, he had never encountered a scene like this before. Monsters working together. They were always solitary creatures in the past, making this alliance between them so confusing.

When he reached the outskirts of Nixin, a small fishing town, he collapsed. His thighs burning, and his throat dry. Desperately, he dug his nails into the dirt, trying to pull himself a few inches further, but his body refused to budge. So, he lowered his face against the ground, taking uneven breaths, while their footsteps slowed behind him.

“H-hunter.” A shaky voice spoke, stopping by Ben. They carefully lowered themselves into the dirt beside him, raising his head. Through strained vision, he spotted the ghoul. Her hair tattered, and her flesh discolored. She moved like a hung blanket caught in a breeze, every action floaty as if her dead body couldn’t properly carry her weight. “W-we found you. The killer.”

“Ha….” Ben laughed, rolling onto his back, staring up at the band of monsters. “Ha….ha…” He couldn’t help but laugh. A ghoul had caught up to him. How? How could such a slow-moving creature catch up to him?

“F-funny?” she asked, tilting her head.

“How did you catch me?”

“F-friend.” The ghoul pointed to the harpy hovering overhead. The grotesque creature, with a pigeon’s body and a deformed human head, gave a loud squawk that sounded more like a hiss of pain, then any cry a bird would make.

“Followed you. Alerted others.” It squawked, crooked teeth appearing beneath its twisted beak.

“A merry band you are. Get it over with.” All hunters knew this day would eventually come. The day when a monster would get them. When faced with that day, it was better to die with dignity than to cower. Cowering left you open to negotiating with the enemy, and the only thing worse than a dead hunter was a turned hunter. The last sight a monster should see isn’t fear, but determination.

“No. Not yet. Not yet.” An imp cried, its short four-foot form walking over to Ben, driving its hoof into his jaw, drawing blood from his lip. “We’re going to make you suffer first. The same way you made the rest of us suffer.”

“Hurry up then.” Ben said, closing his eyes, giving them nothing to work with. He wouldn’t buy into their games or curse them. He would simply give them a boring death that would leave them all unsatisfied.

“You need to beg. Do something interesting. You’re tired. Weak. SCREAM.” The imp roared, its hot breath hitting his face, smelling faintly of rosemary. Rosemary? Ben’s nose flinched, his exhausted mind finding something off about the scent, but being unable to piece together the exact reason behind it.

“No. Do what you must. I’ve hunted your kind, and you have hunted me. Get your reward. Even if there is no bounty for taking my head.”

The monsters exchanged glances, whispering amongst themselves. Their whispers all sounded similar, just a blur of noise ringing in his ears before a giant stepped forward. The giant rested his heavy foot on Ben’s ankle, threatening to snap the limb. Ben groaned, the sound pushed out of his lungs, while his eyes flashed with alertness, getting a hit of adrenaline.

He reached for his dagger, only to have to imp slap it out of his hand, not even getting a chance to swing it before being disarmed. The giant scowled, applying more pressure as Ben gritted his teeth, cramming his face into the dirt, hiding the pain. “Then I break you. I break first limb. Second limb. Third limb.”

“I…get…it…you…break…limbs….dead…all….the…same.” Ben felt like his teeth were going to crack, the pain overwhelming, and yet he knew he had to endure it. He would be dead eventually, and he couldn’t let them break him before that.

The giant held its position, while the imp rubbed its red chin, thinking. It crept closer, resting on its stomach so its face was directly near Ben’s. “After we’ve killed you, I’m taking our little party to visit your friends and family in Broad Creek. What do you think about that? I’m sure the locals will love us.”

Again, Ben’s nose flinched at the smell. It was intoxicating. A scent he knew, one so unique he could almost taste the answer of who it belonged to on the tip of his tongue. Yet, anytime his brain tried to think, the pain overruled it. “Stay away from my home.”

“P-progress!” the ghoul celebrated, stiffly raising its arms to the heavens.

The giant raised its leg, satisfied that things were progressing. That split mistake was all it took for Ben to start thinking straight. Without the pain distracting him, he could start piecing things together. The unlikely group of monsters, the rosemary on the imp’s breath, the way they always seemed to know where he was hiding. It didn’t make sense. Unless this wasn’t real.

But if this wasn’t real. Where was his body? The rosemary. The knowledge of his hometown. The reluctance to kill him outright. It matched a specific person. A succubus he had crossed paths with at least a dozen times. The one monster he could never catch.

“Volori,” he said her name, and the monsters stopped. Each slowly turned, grinning, while the walls of the illusion crumbled away. When he awoke, he was a sweating mess, with a fever threatening to break down his body. He coughed while someone gently pushed a cup of water to his lips. He drank the liquid without hesitation, only to spit it out when he saw who had given it to him. “Vo…” He couldn’t even finish the word; his throat was too dry.

Volori ignored the water he spat onto her purple dress, only giving him a devilish smile. “Ben. Are you ok? It looked like you were having a nightmare.” She innocently pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder, acting like she wasn’t the cause of the nightmare. “Now, drink the water. I promise it’s not poisoned.”

She raised the cup to his lips, only for Ben to refuse to drink from it. After spilling half the cup while trying to get him to drink it, she blocked his nostrils, waiting until he needed a breath before pouring the water down his throat. He coughed and gagged before swallowing.

He licked the inside of his cheeks, checking for poison, tasting only water. He went to sit upright, only to wince as a sharp pain shot through his body, causing him to lie back down. “What did you do to me?”

“Nothing. You’re sick, dear hunter. Which is why I came to soothe your body. Have you fallen for me yet?” She said, dragging her hand across his chest.

“No.”

“Pity.” She removed her hand, looking around his bedroom, finding it rather plain, lacking any grand treasure or antiques. For someone who had made a good amount of money from slaying her kind, he didn’t put any of it to good use, in her opinion.

“That dream was your work then?”

“What dream? I came to help you out of the goodness of my heart.”

“Demons don’t have hearts. What was the plan? Break my mind down while I’m weak until I agree to serve you in order?” Volori went to speak, only to realize he had gotten her entire plan right. “Something like that.” She said, not wanting to admit that she had been so predictable. “Alas, you saw through my deception. What gave it away?”

“Your breath. Rosemary is a typical scent among your kind. You have a particularly flowery variation of it. Others tend to be more off-putting.”

“That’s a very strange way of saying I smell good.” She said, giving him a small smile, revealing those sharp teeth. “Have you considered my offer? Imagine how strong our child could be? A demon and a hunter, creating a being of untold power. They could protect a lot of people.”

“Or cause a lot of destruction.” Ben said, dragging a hand over his feverish forehead. “Maybe I would consider it if you stopped trying to make a contract with me. I can’t exactly trust you, can I?”

“True,” she said, getting out of her seat. “Though I always knew you were going to find a way to escape my trap. You always do. If I were serious about trying to trap you into a contract, I would have done a lot more than just torment you.”

“So, what do you call that, then? If you’re not trying to trap me in a contract.”

“Hmm.” Volori pondered what she would call it before finding the perfect human term for it. “I would call it flirting. Now that you’re awake, I’ll take my leave. Get better soon, ok? Unless you want me targeting another hunter?” She teased, leaving the room.

“Meredith. I still remember when you first entered my city. I had never seen a person with so little light in their eyes. Then again, how does a mother hold any light when their star is gone? I wonder if I would share that same look now if I were still alive? The look of one who has become truly broken. A person waiting to die.” The former king, Branir, tucked his skeletal arms behind his back, staring at the skeleton of Meredith which he had carefully put back together.

Sure, some bones weren’t hers, but the skull was, and he believed that meant the body was still hers. As much as he would have loved to rebuild everyone with their correct parts, he struggled to tell the bones apart in the pits where their remains had been dumped. Especially now that whatever skin had formerly clung to them had faded.

“The pain of losing your child. What cruel god would allow a pain like that to exist? I suppose a god cruel enough to keep me bound to my remains.” He sighed, gazing at Meredith’s skull. He had placed her where he thought she would want to be, at the building which had brought light back to her eyes. A place he hoped she could rest in.

“I’m sorry. I’m talking too much about myself. You had it worse than I did. Still, you found your light again. I pushed you to help at the orphanage because I hoped you would find love to give again to those without it. And you did. You did so well, Meredith. You did so well…. Meredith. I’m scared there’s no light left. What fills that space if I have no light? Please… I need someone to tell me.” The king dropped to his knees, wishing he could sob. The orphanage, a place he once visited frequently, was now a hollow space with broken walls.

“They’re safe, Meredith. I sent my best to guide them out of the city before the attack. You can rest. Please don’t worry about them. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I only had so many I could save.”

The king rose, no longer wearing any signs of his prestige. The man was a skeleton. A human body at its most basic level, without muscle or heart. He didn’t know what kept him here, only that the guilt in his heart weighed heavily within him. He headed towards his castle, passing streets that used to hold so much life.

“James. Do you have any bread for me?” He said, almost on instinct, stopping by the skeletal remains of the kingdom’s best baker, who was positioned behind a broken wooden stall. The left side of Jame’s skull cracked, having been broken in battle. “James. You wouldn’t feed me now, would you? A good king can only eat after his people have had their share, and you all haven’t eaten in weeks. What would you say to me, James? I miss the warmth. I miss the smell of bread. What did I do wrong? Why did I let you all down?”

Branir lowered his head. “I wouldn’t respond to me either.” The skeletons he had rebuilt all watched him, judging him as he made his way to his castle. Their empty sockets, always looking ahead, never allowing him to forget them. The ground beneath his feet was uneven. Broken by the stomping of armored men and horses.

“Victoria.” He stopped by the entrance to his castle, staring at his most trusted guard. “You stayed. I told you to flee. What do you mean you wanted to repay your debt? There was no debt. I owed you. A child being forced to resort to thievery to buy food in my kingdom. I needed to repay you for ever needing to do such a thing. Why did you grow up to be a guard? Why did you grow up to be loyal to a man undeserving of loyalty? You could have fled with your husband. Why….. Why did all of you… It’s not fair.”

Branir made a fist, gritting his teeth together, until he spotted something that made the tension break. “Your ring? Where is it?” He grabbed her hand, holding it. “Your wedding ring? Did I lose it? No, I’m certain you had it when I placed you here.” Then her shoulder fell out of its socket, the arm dropping to the floor, landing near the entrance.

The wooden door of the castle opened, revealing a glimpse into his throne room. “Someone’s here?” Branir crept towards the door, poking his head through the gap, spotting two people in uniforms he had come to know very well.

“Not sure why the king was so scared of coming here. Everyone’s dead. Our army went through them in a day. Honestly, thought it would have taken longer.” Diane, a scout for the kingdom of Vanalina, smiled, twisting the gold ring between her fingers.

“It was a surprise attack, that’s why. The king didn’t suspect that Boldon would break their peace treaty.” Nathan smirked, throwing himself onto Branir’s throne, kicking his legs while sitting on its worn plush cushioning.

“What sort of stupid king doesn’t have a few scouts watching their border? Did he really trust Lord Boldon that much?”

“Probably a pacifist or something. Heard he was meant to be a kind-hearted king. Guess this is where kindness gets you.”

Diane pocketed the ring, joining her fellow scout, sitting on the arm of the throne, taking a break from their looting. “Seriously, though. Why is the king so scared of this place? He acts like it’s cursed or something.”

“Maybe it’s those creepy skeletons?” Nathan wondered, recalling how unnerved he had felt when he first saw them.

“I know! How creepy are they? Must be some weird survivor going around putting them together or something. At least they had some pretty jewels on them. Well, pretty for this dump. The gold ring didn’t really sparkle.”

Branir stepped into the castle before the thought had even crossed his mind. Something pushing him forward against his better judgement. He stared at them, watching their amused expressions turn to terror. The skeleton focused solely on the green and red uniforms they wore. The one with a Sparrow marking of the Vanalina kingdom.

“Give. Me. That. Ring.” He opened his palm towards the two, shuffling closer to them. “Give it back. Give it back now.” His steps quickened, even as his weak skeletal legs wobbled under the sudden jolt in pace.

“EEEEK,” Diane screamed, falling into Nathan’s lap. Nathan only pushed her forward, throwing her towards the skeleton who was fast approaching.

“What is that thing? How is it alive? Who are you?” Nathan positioned himself behind the throne, leaving Diane as bait.

“That’s not yours. Give it back. She deserves to have peace.” The skeleton stood over Diane, who trembled on the ground.

She reached into her pocket, trying to find the ring. “Ok. Um, you can have it.” When she found the ring, she threw it towards the skeleton. “It’s ugly. I mean, I didn’t even really want it. I’m sorry.”

Branir stared at her, contemplating something he had never considered before in his life. Revenge. What was left of the king won the mental battle between the king and Branir, who now felt he had been split into two. When he bent down to collect the ring, Nathan lunged from his spot, smacking the king over the head. The skeleton hit the floor, and Diane rushed to life, the two ambushing the former king, grabbing at his limbs, trying to pull them apart.

“Its gotta be magic. We can pull him apart. That must be what the king was afraid of. We kill him, we can be heroes. Imagine what we’ll get,” Nathan said, and Diane followed.

“Yeah. We can finish off the last bits of the kingdom. No one will even remember it existed.”

The king died at that moment. With his skeletal limbs being pulled apart, he felt that kindness fade, leaving only Branir, whose skull twisted on the floor, peering up at the two. “People used to follow my words. I used to believe it was only because I was king.” He spoke.

“Huh? King?” Nathan stopped his attacks, pulling Diane back. “He’s the king?”

“So?” Diane lunged her foot out, kicking his skull off his body, sending it rolling across the floor. “Even better prize for killing a king.”

“The reason doesn’t matter. I order things, and they obey. Obey,” he shouted.

“What’s he screaming about?” Nathan asked his fellow scout.

“Don’t know. Do you feel any pai-“

Inside, their skeletons had rebelled. Their bodies moving against their will, killing them from within. It was quick, with the two passing before they could notice what was happening. The pair were now dead on the throne room floor, while Branir collected his skull and rose to his feet. “Boldon will fall. Every one of them will fall by my hands. They’ll have their revenge.”

He could feel it now. Every skeleton in the kingdom, attached to his fingertips like puppets on a string. He had an army. One he could grow with every person he killed. He would have his revenge. He left the bodies, going to count the skeletons he had in town, only to stop when he stepped on something.

The wedding ring trapped beneath his toes, giving the king some pause. He stared at it. Brief flashes of Victoria’s wedding appearing in his mind. The way he cried and hugged her as if she were one of his own. The day she first joined his guard. Branir quickly scooped the ring, taking it back to Victoria. It felt like the ring now weighed over 200 kilograms, and if he held it for too long, he would crumble. He went outside and slipped it onto her finger, then exhaled.

“And that’s one dose of ibuprofen for you, Mary, and a few vitamin tablets. Remember to take them with your lunch, or it could upset your stomach.” Dillian smiled, resting a comforting hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

While she no longer had any family left to care for her, or even a pet to warm her lap, her eyes still held a passion for life, thanks to her caretaker. “Thank you, dear. Here. I’ve got something special for you. Don’t tell anyone.” Her shaky, arthritic hand shifted towards the brown bag sitting on her walker. It took her two minutes to get it open, and Dillian patiently waited the entire time, having all the time in the world for her.

She handed him the hard caramel sweet from her bag, giving him a proud grin. “Here, dear. I know you like these.”

“That I do. You spoil me, Mary,” he said, accepting the treat.

“Oh, you spoil us more.” Mary’s hand moved to his cheek, accidentally giving it a light smack. With all the effort she could muster, she steadied her hand, giving his cheek a playful pinch before releasing it. He reminded her so much of her poor grandson. Whenever he was near her, she felt her grandson was still alive.

“I do this because I love it, even if the caramels are a nice little bonus. Now, go get your spot at bingo. I would hate for you to miss out on the game. You’re on a hot streak.”

“I will. Thank you again, dear.” Mary slowly pushed her walker, and when she was out of sight, Dillian rubbed his cheek, not minding the small sting from the accidental hit. A bit of pain never bothered the demon.

While he didn’t care for human treats, he still unrolled the shiny red wrapper, dropping the caramel onto his tongue. The sweet taste lost on his demonic tastebuds. To him, it was the same as eating a block of glue or an eraser. Just a dull sensation that did nothing to excite his tastebuds. But it made Mary happy, and the happier she was, the sweeter his eventual meals would be.

“Who should I visit next?” He mused, chewing on the treat, only to spot someone walking through his hallway with a guest badge on. Dillian’s keen brown eyes focused on them, watching their posture. Without even having to question them, Dillian could already tell what they were.

Any demon who had spent more than two hundred years on Earth could easily spot a demon hunter out of a crowd. Most had obvious tells. For example. The one currently walking towards Dillian hadn’t let him out of her sight since she had first spotted him. Even when the janitor slammed the staffroom door shut, or when a resident loudly coughed beside them. Any normal person’s gaze would follow the noise, or at the very least their eyes would wander while walking down such a long hallway. Hers, however, remained focused on her target, not wanting to lose him.

The second tell was the way she dressed. Everything was plain. Plain grey sweatpants, a generic band shirt that contained only the name of the band with no symbols that a person might recall later. It was all to blend in. When a person is staring at a sea of people, they usually focus on the ones that stand out. Someone like her would easily fool any younger demon, but for someone with his experience, she stuck out, especially in a place like this.

He held up his palm, stopping her at a distance. “You look like you have something you want to say to me. Can we please speak somewhere more private? We don’t want to upset any of the people here.”

She gasped, her hand clutching the weapon in her pocket. Nila’s right knee bent, considering lunging at the creature before she lost her chance to get the upper hand. Before moving, she looked to her sides, seeing a few elderly residents walking down the halls, chatting with each other. Against her better judgement, she gave up the chance, releasing the blade she held in her pocket, letting her hand slip free.

“Fine. Somewhere with a window. No closed-off spaces.”

“No closed-off spaces? You aren’t scared I’ll flee?” Dillian asked, allowing her to set the terms.

“If you could spot me that easily, I doubt you’ll be the one running.” Nila said, knowing she needed an exit strategy if the battle didn’t go her way. Anything to give her even the slim hope of surviving.

Dillian beamed, clapping his hands together. “I love that. So often people overestimate their odds, only to die pointless deaths. There’s no shame in living to fight another day. I respect that.”

“I don’t want your respect.”

“Well, you have it.” It was strange. He never imagined a demon hunter would make him, of all people, feel proud, but then again, he never thought he would find joy in this scheme of his. “Follow me.” He led her to room 402, the one Mr. Henderson used to occupy before his delightful heart attack. He opened it and paused in the doorway, the sudden act making Nila tense. “A window, as you requested.”

Nila peeked inside the room. A plain bed, bathroom, and a window with a pleasant view of their communal garden. It was perfect. If she jumped out the window, she was not only on the ground level but also near the gardens. Someone would see her, and once they spotted her, the demon would have to give up his chase.

Dillian watched the way Nila’s eyes moved. While he couldn’t fully understand what she was thinking, he could take a pretty accurate guess. Now he waited, seeing if she would figure out why he chose this room. Nila’s face paled, a bleak thought crossing her mind. If she fled, and he truly wanted her dead, he would just kill the witnesses. Everyone outside would die because of her.

“I’m really starting to like you.” Those sharp, demonic teeth he often kept hidden were now visible as he led her into the room. “You picked up on that quicker than most would. I won’t harm any of them, that’s a promise.”

“They say demons always keep their word.” Nila remembered every lesson she had received on demon-hunting. All those things her grandmother had taught her, and while she had never had a demon promise her anything before, her grandmother did say that a demon’s promise could be trusted. A demon’s pride not allowing them to go back on a promise, even if it kills them.

“Whose they?”

“None of your business.”

“True. My business is helping people before they pass.” Dillian sat on the edge of Mr. Henderson’s bed, salivating slightly when he remembered the spicy taste of his suffering. The way the heat in Mr. Henderson’s heart tickled his tastebuds, only to end in a delicious burst of heat when Henderson finally died, staring into Dillian’s eyes as the demon tried to save him.

“You’re drooling.” Nila said, pulling out an antique demon-hunting blade, one that Dillian hadn’t seen in at least a hundred years. The sharpened emerald of the blade, a thing of beauty.

“Sorry, I skipped breakfast today.” He apologized, wiping the drool from his lips. “I haven’t seen a dagger like that in a long, long time. You know, the emerald doesn’t add anything to the weapon.”

“It does. It makes the blade stand out among the others we carry. In the heat of battle, a regular dagger could be mistaken for any of the spares we carry. This way, we can easily find our sharpest dagger in a fight.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to keep all your daggers sharp?”

“Most hunters try to keep all their equipment in the best shape possible, but sometimes that isn’t possible. If you end up being hunted by a demon, you might end up needing to use your spare daggers to hunt for food or to get other resources. The emerald one is specifically for killing demons.”

“Fair point. So, how did you discover my identity? I’ve been careful.”

Nila tensed, her knuckles going pale as she strangled the handle of her dagger. The demon raised an eyebrow, not expecting that reaction. He studied her, looking at her long dark blonde hair, her pointed nose, and those blue eyes. They looked familiar, and judging from her reaction, this looked personal.

“A former resident told me.” She admitted.

“Someone close to you? My condolences.”

“SCREW YOUR CONDOLENCES, YOU MONSTER.” She screamed, stepping closer to Dillian, who didn’t budge from his spot.

“Please, lower your voice.” He pointed his finger at the room’s grey curtains, using his magic to close them before someone could peek in. He then allowed his disguise to fully drop in the darkroom. Dillian’s pale skin turned red, revealing a man with two sharp horns and a tail that slithered out of his work pants.

“She knew you were a demon the entire time and told me not to hunt you. She said you weren’t that bad of a demon. THEN YOU KILLED HER.” She thrust her dagger forward, giving Dillian only a few seconds to push his body to the side. The dagger slipped into the mattress before being quickly pulled out, Nila readying another stab.

“I’ve never killed anyone here,” he said, raising his hands before taking a guess at who she was related to. “Are you Edith’s granddaughter? I never saw you visit, but then again, Edith wasn’t here for long.” He didn’t say that to mock her, only stating the very true fact that she died a week into her stay.

“I am. And I’m going to get my revenge. I know what you demons do. You eat and eat until there’s nothing left. How was she, huh? What was it like eating someone I loved?” Nila sobbed, that clever hunter from earlier gone, replaced by a grieving grandchild, who was stabbing blindly through her tears.

He rolled himself off the bed, putting some distance between the two of them. “You want to know the truth? She tasted like nothing. Because there was nothing to eat.” “What?” Nila stopped, keeping her gaze on the demon.

“Demons need suffering to exist. Some mistake that suffering for eating human flesh or drinking blood. I, however, found that killing people is a waste. You get far more food out of letting a person suffer naturally, and who suffers more than the elderly? The entire time your grandmother was here, she never suffered. Not even once. Despite her pain, she greeted every day with a smile, talking about her wonderful family and the life she had. I’ve never met a human so strong.”

“She never suffered?” Nila lowered her dagger, only to pull it up once more. “You still killed her.”

“No, I didn’t. She died peacefully in her sleep. Everything you read about her death is true. When I first opened this place, I fully intended to torture the people here. I was naïve and greedy, like most of my kind. I dreamt about overindulging in their suffering until I actually met my residents. The pain they carried into my care home made me feel like a reaper. Hardly any wore a smile. Most of them were just waiting for death. While that suffering was nice, for a bit, it grew bland. I found that the really delicious meals came from those who still felt joy. To truly suffer in life, you have to know happiness. Or else you become numb to your pain.”

“So, these people are just a food source to you? Something you toy with to keep yourself fed?”

“That’s how it was initially, yes. Every good deed I did for them was because I wanted to marinate their suffering. Then, when whatever ailment or loneliness that plagued them took hold within their bodies, the meal would be even sweeter. In a way, I was building them up, for nature to strike them down. Though I would be lying if I said I haven’t become fond of the good parts of my arrangement.”

What the demon was telling her was horrible, but she couldn’t deny that there were some positives to what he was doing. They were getting the care they needed, even if it came from someone who was feeding off their eventual misery. They got moments of joy and comfort, something that other carers wouldn’t be this devoted to. The conflict within her swirled, unsure of what she should do.

“I’ve told you the truth. You can choose how this goes, hunter.”

Nila stared at her blade, then at the demon. She thought about her decision before sliding the blade into her pocket. “I’ll trust my grandmother’s judgement for now. She said you were fine for a demon, so I’ll accept that for now.” She stepped closer to Dillian, who had already begun transforming back into his human form. “If you ever harm a person here, I will hunt you down.” She threatened.

“Noted. Nila, would you ever consider working here? I could use the extra hands, and you could also keep a closer eye on me.”

“You know my name?”

“Your grandmother mentioned you. I just didn’t realize it was you until your grandmother came up in our conversation. Since we’ve never met in person before.”

“I already have a job. I hunt demons, like she did.”

“Fine. I won’t step in the way of you carrying on her legacy. But if you ever want a career change, consider working with me. I wasn’t lying when I said you had my respect. It would be a waste for you to die hunting my kind.”

“Maybe I’ll volunteer sometime. To keep an eye on you.”

“Bread, onions, ham, and cheese.” Nicholas repeated to himself, walking down the lazy side streets of his hometown. He always enjoyed his little walks to the store, feeling they were the perfect cardio fix for someone in their later years.

Nicholas considered himself a lucky man. He had a loving wife, kids who still dropped over to visit him, and a lovely home by Wildinga Park. Everything a man could hope for. Yet, Nicholas could never truly know how lucky he actually was, having a knack for survival that few possessed.

He ducked through an alley, spotting what he assumed was a homeless woman in a long white coat, hunched over in a corner, teeth chittering as she gnawed on a piece of raw meat that had been tossed out by the local kebab shop. When she heard his footsteps, she paused, her long left ear twitching.

Nicholas had never been the type to judge a person, and he didn’t want to disrespect someone down on their luck by avoiding them. So, he continued on his path toward her. As he went to pass her, she turned. The woman had two long, pointed front teeth, deep black eyes, and tiny, scraggly hairs all over her face and body.

“HEEESH.” The creature raised its clawed hands, lunging forward at Nicholas. The man let out a tiny “Oh, deary me.” Stepping backwards, bumping straight into a bin, falling over it.

The lunging creature flew over him, hitting the alley wall before turning, rubbing its tiny hands over its face, shaking off the pain from the impact. “Heesh.” It repeated, this time in a hushed tone. It wiggled its body, waiting to pounce again, only for a woman in dark sunglasses to step into the alley, firing a dart straight into its neck.

“Got ya.” She smirked, watching the creature stagger backwards, clutching at the dart in its neck, trying to remove it. Before it could pull it free, the creature fell forward, landing next to Nicholas.

“I thought we agreed that whoever shot the thing would use a rat pun. Like cheesed to meet ya. Or something like that?” The second agent stepped forward, lowering his sunglasses. His blue eyes scanned the area, spotting Nicholas.

“You agreed to it. I said I wouldn’t do something that stupid. It’s still a person. Just someone with rat DNA.” She followed her partner’s gaze, sighing. “Oh, a civilian. Do you want to do it, or should I do it?”

“Let me, let me.” The second agent cheered. The first merely shrugged, grabbing the creature and dragging it across the dirty alley floor. She arrived at the end of the alley and knocked twice on the back door of the waiting black van. Its doors quickly opened, and she tossed the creature inside, waiting for her partner to return.

“Oh, um. I don’t know what’s going on?” Nicholas said, struggling to get up from his fallen position. The man’s old limbs needed a second to warm up from the shock.

“Just government stuff.” The agent pulled Nicholas to his feet, giving him a smile. “Sorry about that. Sometimes our test subjects escape. We’re trying to find out if you can enhance humans for specific jobs. You see in war a person with- Oh, why am I bothering telling you this? You won’t remember it, anyway.”

“What?” Nicholas felt a pinch as a small needle pierced the back of his neck. The chemicals inside, redirecting the signals to his brain, turning today’s memories into a confusing dream. When the needle was pulled free, Nicholas stumbled, using another bin for support. “What happened?”

“You fell. Be more careful next time.” He lowered his sunglasses again, giving the man a wink before heading to join his partner.

“Oooh? I fell? That doesn’t seem right?” He tried to remember what had happened that day, only for everything to become a jumbled mess. A rat? Ah, that had to be it. A rat had startled him, and he fell. That made sense. It was bizarre. In his haze of memories, that rat had seemed bigger, but that was impossible. A human-sized rat couldn’t exist. “Onions, ham, and cheese.” He repeated to himself, heading towards the shop.

Passing through the alley, he found himself face to face with a man in glittery face-paint, with a heart tattooed on his forehead. He gave his blue eyelashes a wiggle before pointing his finger at Nicholas. “Bah. VIBE CHEEEEEECK.”

The magic-girl related villain, Vibe It, sent out his vibe beam, covering Nicholas in a dazzling blue aura. “Huh?” Nicholas suddenly felt really self-conscious about his clothing. Was his fishing hat crooked? Did people like the way he wore his turtleneck? Did it make him look old when he wore a turtleneck? Anxiety ran through his body while he awkwardly covered himself, acting as if he were fully exposed.

“TEE HA HEE. VIBE CHEEEECK FAILED.” Vibe It grinned, his long purple tongue sliding out of his lips, licking his own chin. “Let’s give you a makeover. Turn you into one of my pretty puppets, like the others.”

Nicholas gasped, seeing the puppets he had created. A bunch of people, getting given his horrifying features, before they got turned into tiny wooden versions of him. These people locked into a state of mind-control, unable to do anything but shuffle along waiting for their master to pull their strings. He wanted to struggle, but lacked the strength to do so. He was pathetic. A fashion disaster. Vibe It would fix him. Vibe It knew vibes and fashion. Vibe It wore blue and red spandex suits. Those were so hooooot this month. Those thoughts clouded Nicholas’s mind, and soon the old man was smiling, accepting his fate.

“Stop,” Pepper Sugar shouted.

“Right,” Sweet Water said.

“There,” Nice Mint finished.

The three magic girls blocked the beam, standing in their preferred colors. Pepper wore red, Sweet Water wore blue, and Nice Mint wore green. The three all crossed their arms, looking more like rebellious teenagers than magic girls.

“Oh, if it isn’t the Sour Bunch,” Vibe It mocked.

“The Sweet Bunch. Get it right.” Pepper sighed, readying herself for a fight. She adjusted her spiked pepper gloves, ready to deliver some spicy hits.

“What do you know about Vibes? You’re a has-been. Tell me, how’s that fashion label you started going?” Nice Mint said, not being nice to the villain at all. The words came out in a cool hiss, sending a harsh chill over the villain.

“Fashion takes time! You idiots wouldn’t get that. I know the vibes this month. I know them all. I will be the king of fashion. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” The puppets all danced, throwing their hands up.

“Goooood. Now, why don’t you show them how in-fashion I am, my minions.”

“Hold it. Why don’t you prove it yourself? Hit me with the vibe beam. Let’s see who has the bigger vibe.” Sweet Water smirked.

“You can’t be serious. A blast from my vibe beam would turn you into a puppet. You would be handing yourself over to me. My vibes are immaculate. You can’t-“

“Sounds like someone’s scared.” Sweet Water teased, swaying on her tippy-toes.

“OOF. FINE. Let’s see who has the stronger vibe. VIIIIBEEEE CHEEECK.” The beam left Nicholas, wrapping around Sweet Water, who remained perfectly still, giving the villain a devilish grin. “See. I’m perfect. Wait.. Those shoes. Those classy blue touches adding to the water motif. The little waves on the socks, showing your calm yet turbulent personality. You shift wildly, like the ocean, both tranquil and dangerous. The blue touches of lipstick, perfectly applied, with a dash of Mixi 5 eyeliner. The…. The vibes… NOOOO. NOOO. VIIIIBE CHEEEECK PAASSSSSED.”

Vibe It exploded, his body bursting into tiny fireworks, sending blue, red, and green blasts out of his body until he was motionless on the floor, body charred after being defeated by his own move.

“Told you I’m a vibe.” Sweet Water said, patting her teammates on the back.

“Alright. Clean up time. I’ll go erase their memories. Nice Mint, can you turn the puppets back into people?”

“Yeah, too easy.” Nice Mint went over to the puppets, blowing a frosty minty gust of wind from her mouth, one that flew into their bodies, cleansing them of the corruption that Vibe It had delivered. As they returned to normal, Pepper walked over to Nicholas.

“I can’t thank you girls enough. I don’t know who that man was. He started sprouting nonsense, and before I knew it, I was-“

“It’s fine. We’re here to help. Sorry about this.” She scratched her palm, producing pepper from her skin. She blew the pepper into Nicholas’s eyes, watching him drop to his knees in pain. The blinding pepper fogged his memories further, while Pepper went and did the same to the puppets that had turned back into humans.

By the time the pepper had cleared from his vision, the girls were already gone, leaving Nicholas rubbing his red-eyes confused. “Did I get dirt in my eyes? Ow…” He glanced at his clothes, tugging down his turtleneck. “Maybe I need new clothes. Wait, what did I need again? Ham and cheese? Right.”

Finally, he arrived at the front of the shop, finding a hero fighting a large robotic figure that reminded Nicholas of one of his childhood toys. It had a thick metallic head, with a row of five red eyes, each buzzing with bright life. The robot’s mouth was a thin strip of wiring that didn’t move when it spoke, staying perfectly still. “Hero. Give up. Dr. Martias created me to be perfect. You cannot defeat me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. Heroes always win.” Strike-up grinned, the hero having been battered by the robots’ attacks, with his perfect yellow suit now covered in holes that showed the bruises on his skin. The yellow fist-shaped mask he wore was half ripped off his face, revealing the gritted teeth of the determined hero, and their thin blonde hair.

Nicholas was in awe. He had heard rumors about heroes existing, but had never seen one in person before. The robot chuckled, with Dr. Martias getting it ready for its killer blow. The giant foot of the robot rising, ready to stomp Strike-up and the surrounding civilians into the dirt, only for the hero to charge his strike.

Strike-up’s fist flashed red, and in a quick jump, he threw his fist upward, blowing the foot of the robot clean off, sending it flying into the sky, falling into the shop’s parking lot. “Impossible. The metal was reinforced. That power output shouldn’t be possible. You are damaged. How? How?” the robot’s metal voice repeated.

“Heroes get stronger when they’re on the ropes. You can’t predict how far a person will go when they want to save the lives of the people around them.” His fist charged up again, and this time when Strike-up jumped, he appeared before the robot’s face.

“No… No. No.” The robot tried to move its hands up to block the attack, but it was too slow, taking a direct hit to the jaw, knocking its head clean off. The robot collapsed while the crowd watching cheered. Nicholas joined in the cheering, clapping his hands together, only to suddenly feel sleepy.

Mind Wipe flew down from the sky, putting everyone except the hero into a daze. “You couldn’t have taken this somewhere more private?” She asked, resting a hand on the hip of her purple suit.

“Sorry, it was an ambush. Didn’t mean to drag you out here. What about the ones who recorded it? Can you wipe their footage?” he asked.

“No, HQ will handle that. They have a backdoor to all the phones in this country. They’ll be able to snag the footage and remove it. It’s amazing what technology can do. HQ can even snag the footage from phones that don’t have any internet. Don’t ask me how. Brains are my specialty, not technology.”

“Right. I’ll go move the robot parts somewhere private then. I’ll be quick.”

“You do that.”

Two minutes passed, and the robot’s parts were removed from the street, allowing Mind Wipe to release her powers, leaving everyone dazed — with some still holding their phones, recording nothing but pavement or streets. Nicholas rubbed his head, grumbling. “Ugh. What happened? Oh, right? Shopping. I need some cheese.”

He went and brought the cheese, while also grabbing a little robot figure he saw in the store, feeling nostalgic about robots for some strange reason. When he returned home, his loving wife, Matilda, pulled him into an embrace. “You shouldn’t take so long, dear. I thought something had happened to you.”

“Sorry. I guess I’m not as fast of a walker as I used to be,” he chuckled. “I got the groceries.” He gave his wife a long hug before setting the groceries down on the kitchen counter. Matilda went through the bag, giving him a confused look.

“Where’s the onions, ham, and bread?” She said, holding the robot toy, pressing the small red button on its chest that made it make a little beep boop noise.

“The what? Oh, sorry. I must have forgotten it.” He gave a small laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “Wow, I really had a forgetful trip, didn’t I?”

“Yes. You. Did.” Matilda smiled, saying it like a robot. She even wiggled the toy to add to the effect. “It’s fine. We can head out and grab the rest of the groceries together. I’m just glad you’re safe. There’s a lot of strange people out there.”

“AAAAHchooo!” A distracted second was all it took for Cynthia to lower her guard. The powerful spell that hovered overhead, clouding her powers from the other mages, evaporated, exposing her true potential.

Horns blared in the distance, followed by the sounds of grunts and horseshoes as the guards readied their steeds. They had been waiting for this day. The day when their hero would make their appearance known. Cynthia wiped the remnants of her sneeze onto her sleeve before casting the spell again, allowing that invisible cloud to once again loom over her.

The galloping horses in the distance slowed, with the sound fading to smaller thuds in the dirt. The grand-mage that had been guiding them had now lost her scent. She knew that while that would temporarily confuse them, it wouldn’t hide her last known location. If she didn’t move, they would close off the area and trap her.

She glanced left, having a few back alleys she could flee through. They were ideal, having tight winding paths, making it almost impossible for their horses to follow. If she went through there, she would have a good five minutes of breathing space. Yet, it was also the most obvious pathway. The grand mage would no doubt use magic to cut off the exits, and even she couldn’t avoid detection if that happened. Once the mage had sealed the exits, any magic she used would be traceable, and she would be found.

So, that left the path to her right. Cutting through her original destination, the market. It posed its own risks, especially since she was a person of intense interest. She tugged down the hood of her robe and hoped no one would spot her until she had submerged herself fully within the crowd.

Pushing past the commoners, she inched her way deeper into the crowd, taking the odd shoulder bump or rough shove from people trying to rush to find wares. She took every bump with a smile, knowing there really wasn’t any hostility behind them. It was all part of the allure of such a place. Everyone here was trying to get their supplies, and a wasted second could result in their favorite vendor selling out.

Speaking of favorite vendors, she made a straight dash towards the tiny wooden stall covered in flea-infested purple rags and dust. Behind that stall, which had nothing on its counter, was an older gentleman. He had a thick red and white coat, and a monocle on his left eye. When he saw the robed figure rushing over, he smiled, lips pushing up his thin white moustache.

He slipped a hand into his coat, pulling out three magic books he had found on his travels this week, laying them out for her. In a human kingdom, magic was a luxury, so he had come to know his cliental rather well. “These are my three newest finds, my lady. I’m sorry if they aren’t as impressive as some of my previous ones.”

“Nonsense. I’ll take anything I can get my hands on.” She brushed her fingers against the cover of the first book, feeling its bumpy top. “What’s this one about?”

“It’s a book on warts, my dear. It contains spells that specialize in the removal and giving of warts.” He awkwardly rubbed beneath his monocle, knowing it lacked a certain flair that his previous stash held. “Again, sorry these aren’t as impressive as the last batch.”

“I love it. Warts and all!” She smiled, hoping she got the saying right. Benjamin was right. The books weren’t anything special. The other two books only having spells about cutting back nails, and one about cleaning the inside of a person’s ears. Yet, she still wanted them. “I’ll take them.”

“Ha. You’re probably the one keeping me in business. No one else buys these types of-“ Benjamin’s smile dropped, giving a respectful nod to the person behind Cynthia. Before Cynthia could turn, a gloved hand landed on her shoulder, clutching it beneath her robes.

“Cynthia…”

“Sir Reginald.”

“Don’t Sir Reginald me.” The grand mage scowled when Cynthia turned to face him. He had been on the hunt for this powerful hero, only to run into the king’s daughter of all people. “How many times have I told you to stay within the castle grounds? If you want books, you can get them through me.”

“But.”

“NO BUTS.” Reginald stared at the books she was buying, turning his pointed nose up at them. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Selling books like those to an aspiring mage. Is that how you make your money, selling weak spells to novice mages who don’t know any better? I should have your stall investigated by the council.”

“A spell’s weaknesses and strengths are subjective, are they not?” Benjamin stated, defending his wares. “I may not be a mage, but even I believe spells like these could have their uses.”

“Yes, they’ll turn her into a great handmaid.” Reginald grumbled, pulling Cynthia closer. “Do you tell these lies to everyone who comes to your stall? She’s trying to become a great mage. Have some decency and don’t sell her your crap.”

“Sir Reginald… I know they’re mostly useless. But, you don’t have anything like them in your library.” Cynthia didn’t want to cause problems for Benjamin, so she played up the helpless princess role. “I… just thought easier spells like these would… would..” She rubbed her eyes, forcing some fake tears to swell in them. “I.. thought maybe even someone like me could learn them.”

The frosty glare of Reginald folded immediately. He had always tried to play the harsh teacher, despite not having the heart for it. Whenever he saw his student admit her weaknesses, it broke him, wanting to keep trying to light that fire within her. “Someone like you? Please, princess. Don’t say something so demeaning. Magic takes time, and you’re still young. It took me twenty years to learn my first basic spell.” He lied. “You’re beating me by at least three years.”

“I’m hopeless. I can’t even light a candle properly. I… just… want to be like you…”

Reginald’s heart shattered. The grand mage dropped his head, mentally cursing himself for being so cruel. He grabbed some coins from his pocket, not even counting the amount. “Is this enough?” He asked, handing them to the seller.

“I’ll need to find some change! That’s far too much.” Benjamin wondered where he was even meant to find the change for two whole gold coins. He sold spells like those for 50 copper a piece, and he wasn’t exactly the wealthiest of sellers.

“Keep the change. Consider it an apology for my rudeness.” He dropped to a knee, giving her a small smile. “I’m sorry, Cynthia. Today’s been… eventful.” He didn’t know whether to tell her what happened or not. Not wanting to get her hopes up. Though hope was what she needed right now. “We believe the next great hero is currently within the kingdom’s walls. We don’t know where, but we felt a swell of their magic. I promise you, I’ll find them.”

“What if they don’t want to be found?” Cynthia asked, wiping her eyes.

“That isn’t for them to decide. A war is coming, and you’ll be the target in that war. I’ll kill that hero and reanimate their body if I have to. Anything to keep you safe.” The grim scenario he set had both Benjamin and Cynthia wincing. “Apologies. I was only kidding. You can’t take the war talk out of a battle-mage, no matter how many titles you give them. Now, shall we return to the castle? Before someone notices you.”

“Um, sure. Sir, thank you for finding those books for me.” Cynthia bowed.

The man had already finished wrapping up the books, handing them to her in a clean woolen blanket. “Finding wares is what a merchant does. I always do my best for my clients. Thank you for your kindness, Grand Mage.”

“Think nothing of it. Please forget that the princess was here too. It would be best if people didn’t know she left the castle grounds.” Reginald then led her back to the castle, with the two passing rushing guards, who were all currently spread out through the town, interrogating anyone that looked like they could throw a fireball or two.

“Do you think they’ll find this hero?”

“I hope so. Now, let’s get you home. We can do some magic practice again this evening. We need to keep working on your skills.”

Brett skimmed through his statistics, only occasionally stopping on specific ones that caught his interest. “Number of times I’ve choked on cereal. Eight. Number of times I’ve said, it is what it is. Two million. Knew I used that phrase too much. Oh, well. It is what it is.” Brett said, giving a sly smirk to the angel behind the counter as that number went up.

The angel sighed. “Yes, yes. It is, or whatever you just said. Sir, I have to process a lot of dead people today. Can you please finish reading through your papers and sign your name at the bottom of the last page? I would like to process your application already.” The angel, for all its pure beauty, was disinterested in their work, playing hell-sweeper on their computer, clearing all the sinners out of the lava pits in the game.

“Right.” Brett sheepishly flicked to the last page, about to sign it, only to find something was wrong with his document. “People saved. Eight billion? That can’t be right.”

The angel hissed through its pure white teeth, mis-clicking a square in the lava-pit losing his latest run on the game. “Let me look at it.” The angel snatched the papers before switching programs on their computer, checking the numbers. Brett stared at their blonde curls while they worked before the angel rolled its eyes, correcting the number. “Here.”

Brett took the paper back, assuming the angel would have been happy that he pointed out the obvious mistake. Before he could get to the last page, the angel spoke again.

“No one likes a showoff in heaven, sir. We usually prefer to round the number down, but fine, here is the actual number.”

8 billion and twenty-four lives saved. Brett read over it once, then twice. “That can’t be right..”

“I’ve checked the numbers, sir. That’s the correct number. Now if you’ll please sign the document, we can get you into heaven.” The angel tried to push a golden pen into Brett’s hand, but he refused to take it.

“I couldn’t have saved that many people. I choked on cereal eight times in my life. That isn’t a statistic usually on the savior of the world’s profile.”

“Savior of the world? Someone’s got an ego. Just sign the paper and make this another angel’s problem, please, sir. There’s no super heaven or anything. You don’t get bonus points for being a super good person, so please don’t think too hard about this and get on with your afterlife.”

“How could I save that many people? I have to know.” The line of souls behind Brett angrily bobbed back and forth, not having a human body to complain with. Only the person at the front of the line was given a body, mainly to keep people in the line from complaining about the waiting times. A bunch of angry bouncing souls was better than a hundred chattering voices.

The angel sighed, realizing he wouldn’t leave until he got his answer. “Hila. Can you bring out the TV and the tape of-“ The angel squinted his eyes, reading over the name on his computer. “The tape of Brett Willox.”

After a minute, Hila wheeled out the old, square TV. The TV sat on a tray, being a piece of technology that Brett hadn’t seen since he was a ten-year-old in school. The smaller angel gave Brett a polite smile before handing the tape over to the administrative angel, who put it into the TV.

The angel pressed his finger against the TV’s buttons, fast-forwarding through most of Brett’s life.

“You don’t have a digital TV?”

“It takes time for us to adapt to new technology. This is new by our standards.” The angel said, craning his neck so he could see the screen. The two watched Brett’s life flash before their eyes, with birthdays passing by in seconds until they landed on the fateful moment.

“Hey, is this seat taken?” Brett smiled, holding a box of pizza in the footage.

“It’s a park bench. Anyone can sit there. Please don’t tell me you're going to try flirting with me.” The woman sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“Oh, no. I just needed a place to sit for a minute. It’s my niece’s birthday, and I was planning on getting her and the family a pizza to celebrate. I thought it would be a simple trip. I would just walk to the pizza shop and walk back. Only problem is, I’ve forgotten how to get to my sister’s place from here. So, now I’ve got this big family pizza that’s getting cold. I’ll probably have to buy a new one. Do you want a slice?”

She glanced at him, surprised to see someone so painfully human. In her years of political backstabbing, she had forgotten how human people could be. She nodded, and he opened the box for her.

The two quietly ate the pizza together, both looking forward at the people walking through the park. “I used to come here a lot as a kid. I moved away to a different town, but my sister stayed here. So, it’s nostalgic for me to come back. See that tree? That’s where I broke my leg once. I thought if I climbed it, I would impress my crush. All I did was scare her when she saw a bone poking out of my skin.”

“Heh.”

“Is what it is, I suppose. You live around here?”

“Used to. I’m travelling now for work. Spend most of my days bouncing between things.”

“Ah. That can be lonely.”

“Yeah. It can be.” She took another slice, slowly chewing it. “You forget what people are like. Normal people.”

“You don’t meet a lot of normal people while travelling?” Brett asked, taking another slice for himself.

“Not really. Honestly, I think I’m starting to hate people. Or, maybe I just keep telling myself that I hate them.” She sighed, rethinking all those plans she had for if she ever got into power. All that ambition to rule felt misplaced.

“I can’t hate people. Too many good ones. Its like pizza. There’s bad pizza, but it’s pretty rare.” Brett smiled, and she smiled back.

“Yeah, guess I should start looking at the good. That pizza is really delicious.”

“Used to be my favorite when I lived here.” Brett felt his phone vibrate, making him bounce up from the bench. He didn’t even need to read the message to know what it was about. “Crap, the party. I better go buy another pizza. Here, you can finish the rest.”

“Wait, I’ll give you some money. I’ve been digging into it.” She went to search for her wallet, and Brett stopped her.

“It is what it is. Just pay it forward with a kind act or two. See ya.” Brett left the pizza box on the bench, dashing over to the shop to order another one. Hoping this time he would find his way back to his sisters. She watched him, smiling at the simplicity of it all. She wasn’t looking at those powerful people trying to inflate their egos through power and war — now she was looking at the regular people, just living their lives. The people she no longer wanted to rule or control.

“I don’t get it. Did the pizza save 8 billion people?”

“How could the-“ The angel pinched their nose. “She became the president. Didn’t you recognize her when you voted for her?”

“I thought she looked familiar.”

“Yeah, well, that simple act of kindness changed her perspective. She had plans to start wars, to try and dominate the world. Those wars would have killed most of the people on Earth. That’s how you saved them.”

“Oh, cool.”

“Cool? That’s all you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m just glad everything worked out.” Brett went and signed his name on the document, handing it to the angel. “Sorry for holding up the line.”

“It is what it is.” The angel said, before gasping.

“It’s addicting to say, isn’t it? Thank you for everything. If we ever meet again, I’ll treat you to some pizza. So, where do I go?”

“Towards the elevator.” The angel pointed at the golden elevator doors, and Brett nodded, giving the angel a wave as he stepped inside. The elevator had two buttons. One going up, and one going down. The button going up flashed to life when he entered, as the elevator ascended towards heaven.

“Psssssst,” Annie whispered, pressing her small face between the bars. When Arthur didn’t respond, she moved closer, letting out a tiny whine as the cold metal connected with her skin. “PSSSSST.” She tried again, hearing no response. “Arthur. ARTHUR.” She called out, and finally Arthur had to speak, or else the guards would come running to check on the source of the sound.

“Yes, yes. I heard you the first time.” The healer grumbled, shifting his aching back off the wall. The collar around his neck didn’t allow him to move far from his position, only getting a few steps closer to Annie before he choked, having to retreat towards the wall again. “What is it?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“If it’s another cookie, I don’t want it. I’m trying to watch my figure.” Arthur said, his gallows humor the only thing keeping him sane in this dark pit of a cell.

Everything they did within the dungeon was to keep him compliant and weak. They gave him only enough nourishment to live, while keeping him on the brink of starvation. Even the act of moving took a gallant effort, with the healer often preferring to stay still to conserve what little energy he had to spare. Yet, he couldn’t ignore her, not when she had snuck past her father’s guards. He couldn’t let her get into trouble.

“It’s better than a cookie.” She held out her closed palm, pushing it through the cell’s bars. The arm quivered, covered in tiny black spots and bits of damaged skin. “Please.”

Arthur grimaced, forcing himself forward. The collar dug into his neck, leaving cuts on his frail skin. Still, he pushed on, even when those cuts burnt and he could no longer breathe. While the distance from the wall to the bars was small, the effort it took was like climbing the steepest wall of the castle. When he reached the bars, he clasped her hand, waiting until he felt the item hit his palm before pulling back.

The two gasped, each needing a second after their efforts. “You’re going to make your condition worse.” Arthur scolded. He had no idea how a child so sick could keep getting past the guards. She should have fallen before she got to the second set of stairs, yet she persisted, somehow getting to him.

“Look,” she coughed, pointing at his hand.

Arthur uncurled his hand, seeing the iron key she had given him. “Annie, no,” he said, even as his hand moved the key towards his collar. It took every bit of his self-control to resist pushing it into the hole. “You have to take it back. Please. Before I do something, I’ll regret.”

“You’re dying. I don’t want you to die,” Annie sniffled. “Please, Arthur. Everyone’s busy with Dad’s next meeting. You can leave. No one will notice if you sneak out through the dungeon’s back entrance.”

The words felt like honey to Arthur’s ears. A chance to escape this hell. To be a free man again. The key warmed his palm, as if it were the key to heaven itself. Again, he raised his hand towards the collar, only to spot the exhausted face of the child he wanted to save. The princess smiling through her pain, urging him to leave. If he left now….

The keys’ warmth now felt like a burning coal within his hand, as Arthur tossed it across the cell towards her. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t curse Annie to die, not when she had been the only one who tried to help him in his life.

“ARTHUR!” she screamed, attracting the guard’s attention. Curses and the smell of sweat and iron filled the dungeon as the captain rounded the corner.

“YOUNG MISS.” He snapped, only for his tone to grow softer when he remembered who he was speaking to. “Miss Annie. Your father told you not to come down here, didn’t he?” The captain was a hardened man. A man who had seen the horrors a healer could produce. In wars, a good healer was almost like a necromancer. They would move throughout the back lines, reviving those close to death. Those soldiers joining the battle again, leading to your forces getting overwhelmed. He scoffed at the sight of Arthur. “You put her up to this, didn’t you?”

“No, he didn’t. Please. Don’t hurt my friend,” Annie gagged, coughing blood into her fingers. “Please…”

“YOU NEED TO LET ME GET TO HER.” Arthur dashed forward, only to get thrown back by his collar. Everything stung. His legs, neck, chest, lungs, and still he pushed forward. “She… she’s going to die if you don’t.”

The captain glanced at Annie, then at Arthur. He cursed, screaming at the other guards further away in the dungeon. “SOMEONE TELL THE KING HIS DAUGHTERS IN DANGER.” He then searched his pockets for the key. “Where the bloody hell is it?”

“Ga..” Arthur rubbed his sore neck, trying to kick at the spot in the dirt where the key sat. “Ground…”

“Ground?” The captain glanced at the key in the dirt, then at Arthur. “You were trying to escape.” He pushed his hatred aside, reaching into the cell to get the key. He first unlocked the door, then the collar, dragging the healer to Annie’s side. “Heal her. Or you’ll be cut into so many pieces that no healer alive will be able to put you back together.”

Arthur knelt by Annie’s side, raising her head to rest near his elbow. He moved his left hand onto her forehead, sending his powers through her. It took thirty minutes until her breathing had stabilized, and when it was over, Arthur fell back.

The captain gave Annie to one of his men before raising an iron boot near Arthur’s chest, ready to bring it down.

“STOP.” The king’s direct command halted the captain, who straightened up immediately. The king’s usual scowl was gone, replaced by a puzzled stare. The elegant robe he wore was already off, resting over his daughter’s body. There was no attempt to look regal or correct now. In this moment, he was no longer a king, but a father.

“But sir. This one tried to escape.” The captain said.

“Was he still in his cell when you released him?” The king asked.

“Well, yes, sir. But the key was inside his cell.”

“Near his body?”

“No, in the corner.”

“Then he obviously didn’t try to escape. I would hope a captain would be able to figure that out on his own. You aren’t blinded by your hatred, are you, Captain?”

“Sir, healers are dangerous. You’ve seen what they can do.”

“Personally, all I’ve ever seen this healer do is help my daughter.” The king sighed. Every bit of cruelty he had shown the healer now felt like a mark on his pride as a ruler. He hadn’t been thinking as a king, but as a desperate father. One who assumed that if they didn’t cage and beat down this healer, he would never help them.

“Sir, he’s deceiving her.”

“I think we’ve been the ones getting deceived. We all believed that healers were wicked people because of what happened during the wars. If we had healer back then, would we have not done the same?”

“It was unnatural, sir. You saw it.” The captain grimaced. He had seen his friends get cut down by men he had slain only minutes ago. While the healers gleefully watched the chaos, ducking behind their men.

“We would have done the same if we had the resources. It was war. We’ve tortured an innocent man. Worse, we’ve tortured a man who has been serving the princess. I should have my head for this.” He knelt by Arthur, who no longer seemed aware of what was going on. The healing had taken whatever meager energy he had left in his food-deprived state.

“Don’t say that. You were protecting your daughter.”

“By becoming a monster? She told me what he was like. How kind he had been to her, and what did I do? Cut his food in half because I believed it was all a trick. That kindness couldn’t exist in this dungeon. Get this man taken to a room. A proper room. You will treat him as if he were a noble.”

“You’re making a mistake, sir.” The captain gritted his teeth, collecting the healer off the floor, tossing him over his shoulder. “What’s he going to do when he wakes up?”

“That is his choice to make.”

“ARTHUR. ARRRRRRRRRTHURRRR.” The voice stabbed at his ear, causing the healer to stir. He rolled over, only to freeze. He had rolled over. How was that possible? He squished the bedding beneath him before opening his eyes, finding Annie staring at him. The princess, teary-eyed, sat at his side. “I thought you had died.”

“Princess?”

“Arthur. I owe you an apology.” The king bowed. “I’m sorry for how I have treated you. Know that everything I did was for my daughter’s sake. Even if that doesn’t excuse my behavior. Whatever you need will be yours. I just ask that you consider continuing her treatment.”

Arthur scooted himself up the bed, looking at the man he had despised. He wanted to hurl insults and demand his freedom. But he couldn’t do that. Not with Annie needing him. “I ask to be freed from my confinement. Once Annie is healed.”

The king couldn’t believe what he had heard, remaining on his knees while his body wobbled. “Truly? You will stay? I.. owe you my life. I agree. Anything you need will be provided to you. Please, save my daughter.”

“So, what’s your name, tough guy?” The blonde asked, as she lazed against her locker, giving Nathan a fake look of indifference, acting as if she didn’t care about the answer to her question. Everyone knew Annabelle. She was a superpowered human with the ability to relay messages to every human within a 100-meter radius. This ability had turned her into a self-proclaimed gossip queen, who could spread her news throughout the academy within a few tours of the facility.

Nathan knew what this was. It was her way of scoping out a potential source of gossip. The gossip hive wouldn’t form around her if the queen bee didn’t keep buzzing. The indifferent look was an attempt to lower his guard. Her way of silently saying. ‘I don’t even care what you have to say, so please belt out whatever I could use for my next gossip cycle.’

He indulged her curiosity. Seeing no reason not to. A name was just a name, after all. She wouldn’t get much out of that, and since he already knew what her plan was, he could cut this short the moment she peered deeper into his life. “Nathan Fordlock.”

The bored expression faded, replaced with a flinging of long lashes, as her eyes shot open. She opened her mouth to speak and faltered, leaving her mouth hanging open while she attempted to form a thought. “Aaaa…..” She brought a manicured finger to her chin, pushing her mouth shut. When she had gathered her composure again, she spoke. “From THE Fordlock family?”

“Is there another Fordlock family?” Nathan honestly responded, unsure what she meant by that. He hadn’t met any other Fordlocks, and couldn’t think of any notable ones that came to mind. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No… Um, it’s nice to meet you.” Her attitude immediately shifted before she turned and headed in the opposite direction. The heels she wore clicked against the floor, leaving Nathan standing there confused, listening to the sound. The rest of his day wasn’t any better. Even his teacher seemed unnerved by his appearance in her class.

“I’m Margeret. I’ll be teaching your academics.” She said, in her best professional tone. While his name had scared Annabelle off, Margeret’s tone felt more sympathetic. Like that of a seasoned war veteran who was staring at a shell-shocked private. “If you need anything, let me know. We don’t want you to end up in a difficult situation.”

“A difficult situation? I’ve only got super strength. My most difficult situation would be getting trapped underneath a car. Don’t worry. I already know the procedure for that. My grandfather taught me it.”

“Oh. Is that all he’s taught you? Nothing else?” She asked, not daring to overstep in this conversation.

“Yeah. Is there something else I should know about?”

She stared at her papers, causing the thin, square-glasses on her nose to almost fall off her face. They inched down the bridge of her nose, only to get pushed up before they could completely drop. “Anyway, introduce yourself to the class. I’m sure everyone is waiting to meet you.” She bounced to her desk before she could say too much, leaving Nathan to introduce himself.

After his introduction, the rest of his day got weirder. Some students avoided him, while others would ask him strange questions about himself. One student, Billy Whistler, stopped Nathan, nudging his side. “What’s it like?”

“What’s what like?”

“You know.” He said, dancing around the topic. He had been given the same warning as the others. Not to mention Nathan’s abilities until someone had sat him down and told him about them. But that didn’t stop him from prying. He assumed Nathan was aware of his powers and was playing dumb, which was why he was starting this strange line of questioning.

“I really don’t.” Nathan fiddled with the right strap of his bag, staring at the short hero with a buzz cut. “Is there something wrong with my powers? I told the teacher it’s just super strength. It’s not even that impressive. Can’t your whistling create different effects? I heard your dad once changed the weather for a whole day with his powers.”

“Guess you don’t know. Alright, talk to me when you do.” He said, cheerfully leaving Nathan standing alone. It was such a swift exit that Nathan didn’t even have the chance to probe further. When he got home that afternoon, he went to find his grandfather, tossing his bag down before heading into the backyard.

“How was your day?” Martin Fordlock asked while he watered his plants. Meanwhile, Nathan’s grandmother relaxed in a lawn chair, flicking through a gardening magazine.

“Marty, you should plant something like this.” Sarah sat up, holding the magazine towards her husband, only to lower it when she saw the look on her grandson’s face. The former villain turned hero- turned grandmother, had seen that face before and knew a serious conversation was approaching. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“Do you know about my abilities, Grandma?” Nathan didn’t even answer the greeting, turning to his grandmother, who slowly removed her sunglasses.

“Yes, dear. I.. should leave you two alone. I’m not a Fordlock.”

“What are you talking about? I put a ring on your finger, didn’t I?” Martin said, trying to lighten things up before the two entered a deep conversation.

“Marty. You know it doesn’t work like that. Abilities are inherited from one of the two parents. Both Nathan and Jenny got your ability.”

The mention of Jenny made the old man’s hand wobble, causing an uneven stream to leave the hose. He turned off the water before wiping his eyes. “Jenny…” He gave his wife a nod and took his grandson’s hand, sitting him down on the lawn chair while Sarah went inside, leaving them to discuss his family’s ability.

“Super strength isn’t your power. It’s just a side-effect of the power I have. My power is the ability to rapidly heal any damaged part of my body. If I lost a finger, I could regrow it with enough time.”

“So, I have super regeneration?” Nathan asked.

“Not quite. Powers can mutate through each generation. This can lead to some powers getting stronger, while others become a danger to the person using them. Your mother…” He had to stop himself, wiping a few tears away. “She could come back from death.”

“WHAT? That’s impossible. You can’t…” Nathan couldn’t believe it. A person couldn’t come back to life. It didn’t make any sense, especially since his mother was dead. He had been to her funeral. He had seen her body. She was dead.

“You can. That’s what happens when a power mutates. She took my healing ability and tripled it, to the point where she could survive any attack. It was amazing. We thought she was immortal, but it had its limits. Every time she died, a little piece of herself didn’t return when she came back. If only I had noticed it sooner.”

Nathan remained quiet, thinking about what his grandfather was telling him. He had seen his mother die at their family's Christmas party. She had dropped dead before his eyes. That’s all he ever remembered. The longer he thought about it, the less the memory made sense. She was walking over to hug him, then she collapsed. But why would she be trying to hug him with her fingers clenched so tightly? Why did his father also end up dead? He believed his grandfather when he had said whatever killed his mother had affected both parents, but it just didn’t make sense. Now he wondered if he had always known that it didn’t make sense and just avoided the topic because it was difficult. “That party. What really happened?”

Martin sighed. “She had dedicated her life to being a hero, and during her many years of fighting, she had taken dozens of fatal blows. We never gave her many deaths a second thought. Since she bounced back every time. By the time we noticed the changes, it was too late. She was getting aggressive. Going into fits of rage at the smallest of things. That day, she snapped completely. She killed your father. He was trying to calm her down after she had dropped a plate, and she killed him with one of the pieces. Then, she went after you.”

Finding out the truth behind his mother’s last moments had Nathan hyperventilating. What he believed was a caring act in her final moments was the opposite. Martin hugged his grandson, holding him tightly until his breathing settled. “How did she die? Did you stop her?”

“I… couldn’t. I couldn’t move. She was my daughter. I froze. Your grandmother did it. She saved you. I’m sorry, I really am. If your grandmother hadn’t stepped in, I would never have been able to live with myself. Please don’t blame her.”

“She didn’t have a choice. Did she?”

“No. She didn’t. I’m sure it’s been eating her up inside all these years.”

“Why didn’t Mom come back then? You said she always bounced back, didn’t you?”

“Abilities deteriorate with time and uses. If someone overuses their power, it becomes less effective. Most heroes only have careers of twenty or so years. Some normal superpowered humans can go their lives with their powers functioning normally if they properly conserve them. She reached her limit.”

“Will that happen to me?”

Martin rubbed his grandson’s back. “I’m hoping the academy can help you. I’ve told them you aren’t allowed to handle any fieldwork. Only theory. While you’re there, they can run some tests on you. Hopefully, with enough time, they’ll figure out a way to keep your mind intact.”

Nathan couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they didn’t figure out a way to keep his mind intact. Would he go crazy? Would they lock him in a box until he died? No answer felt comforting or satisfying. Wanting to put death out of his mind, he stood up. “I’m going to see Grandma.”

“Alright,” Martin released his grandson, wanting to tell him to take it easy on his grandmother. But he knew better than to try and control whatever emotions were inside him. Nathan needed to say what was on his mind, or else his emotions would keep bubbling up within him.

Nathan slid the door open and found his grandmother smoking, something she hadn’t done since her villain days. She gave her grandson a tired smile and pushed aside the cup that she had been using as an ashtray. She didn’t need to say anything. The former villain’s puffy red eyes made it clear how she felt about this.

“Grandma.”

“Yes, dear.” She lowered her head, awaiting the torrent of abuse.

“Thank you.”

Initially, Sarah flinched, expecting something worse. When she registered what he had said, she glanced up at him. “Thank you?”

“You allowed my mom to rest. I don’t think she would have wanted to hurt me.”

“Of course she wouldn’t have. She loved you more than anything.”

“You also saved my life. Grandma, I really don’t know how to feel, but I don’t hate you.” Nathan felt like a child again, with tears spilling from his eyes before he could even notice them. Sarah dropped her cigarette into the cup, pulling her grandson into a hug.

“I love you so much. I’m so sorry about what happened.”

“You didn’t want to do it. I forgive you.” He held her for a few minutes before he heard his grandfather enter the room.

“Are you two alright?”

“Yes. We’re fine. Are you ok, sweetie?” Sarah asked, wiping away some of her grandson’s tears.

“A… and that’s why I believe the supplies I’m o-o-offering you are at a reasonable rate.” Relian, the negotiator from Lindholck, stuttered. The old, handsome man shivered on the spot, unable to pull his gaze away from the monster of a guard who was staring daggers at him. He had heard rumors about the unshakable Grand Knight—how the man’s skill with a blade rivaled that of a god. And while rumors were often to be ignored, the look on the Grand Knight’s face had him wondering if they were true.

Queen Slivan arched a neat eyebrow, following the man’s gaze. She knew fear when she saw it and was surprised to find it wasn’t directed at her. “Markal? Is there any reason you’re pulling that face? I think you’re going to cause this poor man to drop dead if you keep it up.” She exclaimed, hiding her amusement.

Markal’s body tensed as he met the Queen's blue eyes. He couldn’t tell her about the kitten he had hidden beneath his chest plate. Not in front of the negotiator. A Grand Knight had a reputation to uphold, and any deviation from that fearsome reputation could get his head sliced off. So, he did his best to relax those stressed muscles on his scar-covered face, even as the kitten dug its claws into his hip.

“My queen, I’m sorry.” He gave a slight bow, which caused the kitten to let out a small meow. “Meow.” He mimicked.

“Did you meow at me?” The Queen curled her purple lip, already wondering what punishment she would give the man for his poor display. Even a Grand knight wasn’t above fearsome punishments, and if he had any sense, he would do his best to lighten the damage he had already caused.

Markal coughed. “Sorry. Dry throat. I meooo-must advise you against this deal. He’s offering you bad terms. He’s disgracing our glorious kingdom. That is why I’m pulling such a face. You dare disrespect my Queen, you Lindholck bastard?”

The man rested his right palm over his heart, taking shallow breaths. The sight of the Grand Knight fuming almost brought him to an early grave. He didn’t dare look at the man, fearing if he did, the beast of a knight would draw closer. Instead, he pleaded his case with the Queen.

“We’re offering you a good deal. This is a fair price for the supplies we’re giving you.”

“A good deal? I prefer a great deal. Don’t you, my knight?” She said. Despite not knowing what was going through her knight’s dumb head, she played along, sensing an opportunity to further her kingdom’s wealth.

“ARGHGHH,” Markal roared as the kitten nibbled on his belly button. The knight’s first instinct when encountering pain was to reach for his weapon—an instinct that had saved his life on multiple occasions, especially while walking through the slums of their kingdom. The knight’s large hand clutched the handle of his sword, almost drawing it on reflex until his Queen’s words cut through the pain.

“Uh uh uh. There’s no need for that,” she said, giving the negotiator a cruel smile. “Yet.” She unfurled her body from the couch, losing her relaxed posture. The red dress she wore spilled down her legs, like blood falling from a vampiric monster of myth. She reached out, touching his bearded cheek, while staring into his soul. The simple gesture was enough to cause the man to stumble over his own old legs, landing on his left knee, twisting it awkwardly.

“Q-queen. Please.” He raised his arms, looking up at her with a miserable expression. The way his eyes twitched told the queen he was close to tears, and she loved the powerful feeling that brought.

CLINK CLINK CLINK.

The kitten bounced around inside the knight’s armor, bumping against the stiff metal. Each time it flipped itself around, it created another metallic clink that mimicked the heavy footsteps of the Grand Knight. Relian couldn’t look away from the queen, only assuming the knight was drawing closer.

“We can give you three extra months’ worth of flour and wheat. Please. Spare us.” He flinched, only to find the queen’s hand resting before him.

Relian went to grab it, only for the queen to pull it away. “I wanted you to kiss it. Not grab it. Get yourself off the floor.” She turned to her knight, giving him a long stare before returning to her throne. “See. I knew we could reach a better deal. Now, I expect that first shipment to be here in a month. If not, I’ll send my dear knight here to come looking for it.”

“Heh…heh….HAHAHAHA!” Markal laughed, his leathery face pointed at the ceiling while the kitten licked his body. He didn’t even try to stop his laughter, knowing he was most likely already dead given how badly he had acted during this meeting.

“Y….yes… Next month. No later than that.” The old man limped out of the room, his knee already showing faint bruising. When Relian was out of the Queen’s sight, she twisted her body like a serpent preparing to leap from the throne and strike.

“What are you hiding, and why shouldn’t I kill both you and it?” She asked with a tone that made the room feel like it was about to frost over.

Markal sighed, loosening the straps around his chest plate. “I’m sorry, I found the little guy outside, and when you said you urgently needed me for this meeting, I didn’t have time to put him somewhere. So, I hid him within my armor.” When he had the chest plate loosely hanging from his body, he slipped his hand into the hole near his neck, pulling out the black kitten.

“Hm? You’re telling me this is my master negotiator?”

“Please don’t kill it…”

“Kill it? Have you ever known me to kill without reason? I only harm those who harm me. This creature has done me no harm.” She stood, gently grabbing the kitten, trying to pull it away from the knight who refused to release it. “Let go of it.”

“You promise you won’t hurt it.”

“I’ll hurt you if you don’t release it.” The knight eventually released the kitten, allowing the queen to hold it. “Hmm. It’s quite good.” She said, only for the kitten to swipe its paw at her face, harmlessly smacking it.

“MY QUEEN, SHOW IT MERCY.” The knight shouted, throwing himself to the floor, pressing his face to her feet. “It didn’t mean to harm you.” The loosely hanging chest plate finally fell off, revealing the marks the kitten had left on his body. Each bloody mark only made the Queen like the creature more.

“No need to beg. I like this one. They’ll become my pet.” She said, setting the kitten gently on the ground. “While I would usually punish you for what you did today, I’m feeling generous since everything worked out. You’ll only have to do an extra four hours of training today.”

The knight froze, staring at her with wide eyes. “Didn’t you say you would be generous, my queen?”

“I could make it five?”

“Praise the generous queen.” He said, quickly getting to his feet before the Queen could change her mind. He picked up his chest plate, putting it back on as he walked towards the training field. The queen smiled, giving the kitten a soft pat.

The suited man sat down, pressing his palms firmly against his neatly ironed black pants. “I understand we’re asking a lot of you. We’re asking you to make the ultimate sacrifice, giving up your freedom for the lives of others. You’ll be a hero. I promise you that. We’ll all remember your sacrifice. Shall I leave you alone with your parents so you can say your goodbyes?” Keith asked.

“Take the slacker. It’s about time he got a girlfriend and stopped playing those silly Nintendo games.” Martha hissed, trying to nudge her twenty-five-year-old son off the couch.

“Mom. For the last time, they aren’t Nintendo games. They are a mix of old-school retro games running off an emulator. Yes, some of these retro games are Nintendo games, but some aren’t. Get it right.” Brandon said, struggling to grab a salted chip off his singlet.

“Brandon, what did I say about eating on the couch?” His dad, Nick, went to grab the chip, only to stop when Brandon clicked his teeth together, trying to bite his finger.

“This isn’t on the couch; it’s on my body. My body isn’t the couch, Dad!” Brandon tilted his head to the side, rolling his tongue out and scooping up the chip. When he had the chip sitting on the tip of his tongue, he rolled it back into his mouth, chomping on it. An act that was both disgusting and oddly impressive.

“She wants that?” Keith whispered to his colleague. “Is that attractive?”

“Not at all.” Angela said, wondering what the alien saw in this person. “Maybe aliens work on reverse psychology rules? Where something disgusting is attractive?”

“Disgusting? Madam, I’ve got seven hearts across all routes in Love! DANGER! Heart-throbbing dance.” When the room gave him a confused stare, he explained. “It’s the hardest romance game in the world. I’m the only person to win the heart of the ice dance queen Varinia. They even added my name to the credits because of my achievement.”

“Varinia isn’t real, son,” Nick said.

“YOU'RE NOT REAL.” He snapped before looking at the secret agents. “So, what type of alien are we dealing with? Something Asari like? I’ll even take a Quarian. I went with Tali on one of my play throughs. Everyone says she’s the best girl, but Liara feels the more canon pick.”

“What?” Keith and Angela said in unison.

“Oh, so we’re going Alien Aliens? Like the ones from the Aliens movies? Ok. I can still work with that. I’ve played some strange monster romance games; I can handle it.”

“What’s he on about?” Keith asked Angela, who shrugged.

“No idea…”

“You don’t even know your aliens? Star Wars? Space Dandy? Star Trek? Avatar? Anything? What am I working with amateurs? Don’t you have a book of fictional aliens?”

“No? We have a book of actual aliens.” Angela mumbled. “Anyway, are you going to willingly come with us, or do we have to knock you out?”

“Yeah, I’ll go. Do I have time to pack my stuff?”

“We’ve already packed it for you.” Nick said, grabbing his son’s suitcase from his bedroom, dragging it into the living room. “This has all your toys and games.”

“Yes, yes. Hurry up. Go be a hero, it’s your destiny.” Martha hugged her husband, trying to look like a grieving parent, even if she was grinning as she pressed her face into her husband’s shoulder.

“Alright. Um, bye?” He grabbed the handle of his suitcase before stopping. “One of you carry my suitcase. I’m the saviour of Earth. I don’t need to carry my own things.” With that, he confidently walked past the two agents, who both scrunched their noses up, wincing.

“I hope they packed some deodorant in that bag,” Keith grimaced.

The car trip went quickly, with Brandon playing on his phone the entire trip. The thought of marrying an alien princess didn’t scare him at all. If anything, it felt like the best thing a man like him could ask for. He wouldn’t have to worry about anything, getting to live a life of luxury. He could already imagine all the games he was going to play during this marriage, now that he didn’t have his parents nagging him to get a job or life.

“I feel sorry for that princess.” Angela said, pulling over into an almost empty field. Right in the field’s centre sat the UFO. Despite popular culture depicting them as a flying disc, this one had the shape of an igloo, with one long, singular light wrapped around its top, giving it a pink and white hue. The small metal hatch on the front of the igloo peeled open, and out stepped the princess.

“She’s beautiful. If she were a character in a game, she would be an ultra-rare.” Brandon pressed his face against the car’s window, scrambling to open the door. The door stubbornly clicked, remaining locked until the driver opened it.

“She is beautiful. Don’t mess this up for us. We need to stop a war.” Angela said, taking a long breath while her finger hovered over the unlock button. She felt as if she had her finger lingering over a kill-switch, wondering if this was the equivalent of her sending a human-shaped nuke towards the alien princess. With no other choice, she pressed the button, and Brandon tumbled out of the car with his suitcase.

He dashed toward her. Well, dashed as best he could. He hadn’t exercised in eight years, so his jog was about as good as a normal person’s steady walk. “PRINCESS.” He called out, and the alien only politely smiled.

“Prince,” she said sweetly. The translating ring on her finger swiftly gave out the translated message before Brandon could even hear her alien voice, allowing her to sound more human. She was slim, tall, and earless. The alien, having two tiny holes on both sides of her head, using them to hear. For eyes, she had two, but they were bigger than tennis balls, taking up a good portion of her purple oval face.

The thin line of a mouth she had never moved when she spoke, making it hard for Brandon to work out where her words were even coming from. When Brandon got close to her, he was sweating, and she was lucky she didn’t have a nose.

“You want me?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Buxinasa de gemxans.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, it’s a saying our people use. It means inner beauty.” She said, telling only a partial truth.

In reality, it meant something closer to this. “Beyond ugly grime, gems can be found” That being the closest human translation to the alien phrase.

Brandon’s heart skipped a beat. “Inner beauty? You… think I’m beautiful on the inside?”

“With time.” Was all she responded with, leading her future husband into the ship. Once inside the ship, Brandon was led to a seat beside his future wife, getting ready for the trip to her home planet of Naiin.

While no one on Earth could understand the princess’s decision. On the planet Naiin, her fellow Naiinil’s were incredibly jealous. In their culture, marrying someone like Brandon was a chance to show your prestige and potential for leadership.

See, Naiinil’s were obsessed with bringing out the best in their partners. This obsession led some of their kind to find the most ugly or foul people around, wanting to transform them into brilliant partners. If a Naiinil could successfully transform a person into the perfect partner, they would be praised and often heavily favoured for jobs or even other public roles.

That’s why Gubria chose Brandon. After researching countless people and species, she found Brandon to be the perfect balance between uncharming and a person with the potential for change. He could be moulded into the perfect partner. When she explained her plan to her father, he was delighted to help her, sending his threat out to Earth.

I gulped down a mug filled with poisoned water before shuffling through my coat, trying to find the right ingredients or chemicals to mix into a cure. Everyone here depended on me to come up with a miracle cure, and I didn’t want to disappoint them in their final moments. “I’ve heard people work better under pressure. A lot of- COUGH- scientific breakthroughs happen when a person’s backed into a corner.”

I laughed, wiping the black blood from my lip, wondering which of my organs had already started giving out. Dragging my finger across my tongue, I gave the bloody spot by my lip another wipe, cleaning it before turning to the room of future corpses, trying to motivate them into holding on a little longer.

“I’ll cure us all. I promise.”

The room remained silent, families and friends all huddled together, trying to enjoy their last moments together. Moments I was interrupting with my theatrics. That bastard, how could he do this to them? We were guild-mates. Why would he poison us?

“Why… the… hell.. would… you… drink… that?” Grex’s gruff voice forced those words out. The towering leader of the Shielded Sword guild pushed his way over to me from his chair. Even in his weakened state, the sound of his powerful hand smacking against my shoulder sent a jolt through the room.

“Can’t cure anyone if I don’t understand the symptoms. Common doctor tactic. I think?” I commented, getting out an empty bottle, some Batrian leaves, and a hint of cured Marivian toad skin.

“You’re not a doctor.”

“No, I’m not. Which is why I’m going to charge you all a lot more for my miracle cure once it’s finished. A freelance fee.” I gagged, feeling the black blood clump in my throat. I forced the clump up, spitting it onto my hand. “That’s not good.”

“You.. think?” The heavy man staggered, leaning against my shoulder, while I hurriedly put a potion together. I mixed the two ingredients before taking out a vial of pure water from my pocket, pouring it in. “Attempt one.”

I poured the liquid down my throat, gagging at the taste. The chunky pieces of skin struggling to get past the blockages already forming in my throat. When the liquid made its way down my throat, I found a temporary flash of relief, until a sharp pain throbbed behind my right eye, the vision in it darkening until everything on that side became a small blur of darkness and out-of-focus blobs.

“Temporary relief. Assuming the culprit of the blindness is the Marivian skin. Usually, the other component dilutes the toxins in the skin, but Batrian leaves must not have enough of a counter for the amount of skin I used. Shame, those two should have been enough to outweigh the poison. I need another-”

THUMP.

The weight leaning on me lost its footing, and we both fell. I desperately pushed my hands out, catching myself with my remaining strength. I couldn’t let my ingredients get contaminated or broken by the impact of the ground. I needed to hold his weight, even if he was too heavy for my weakened body to handle.

It felt like I was under him for an hour, even if it were only a few seconds. The weight crushing me until Bria threw the guild leader’s body off my back. The proud warrior huffed, giving me a desperate smile. “You’ll save them, won’t you?”

“I…” I wanted to tell her the truth. That I didn’t think I could save them. That I wasn’t good enough, but I couldn’t say that to her, not when I saw how blood-shot and tired her eyes were. She didn’t have long, and I didn’t want her to die with regrets. “I will save them.”

“Good,” it was a simple last word, one that showed the magnificent person she had been. Not some grandiose speech, or heartfelt sob. Just a simple sense of relief that others would be safe. She fell, and I let her. I didn’t risk trying to slow her fall, not when every second counted.

Now I had two corpses at my feet, and the weight of more lives hanging over my shoulders. “Batrian leaves and…. Sedana seeds. Seeds.” My body wobbled, fingers almost missing the seeds beneath my coat. “Se…seeds absorb. With leaves. Both absorb. Could absorb poison or blood.”

I willed myself to life again, mixing the two components, before downing the liquid again. This time, the dizziness faded, but so did the color from my skin. I dropped beside the two corpses, having to stare at the silently dignified smile of Bria while I broke my promise to her.

“Too…strong… absorbing…too…much..blood….removed…dizziness… if…”

“H-heal.” Soft, nurturing hands rested against my back, as a weak rush of warm energy flooded my body, breaking apart the seeds. My blood pumped again, accelerated by the warmth until I had color again.

“Angela. Stop. You’ll die. Batrian leaves, two Sedana seeds and an inch of Marivian skin. That’s the cure. I…” She landed on me, her blonde hair covering her face in angelic reverence for the beautiful life she had lived. I choked back a sob, gripping the back of her dress, holding her tight.

I wanted to break down, to throw myself into death with the rest of my friends. But I had to save the thing they cherished most first. I crawled over to the others and started working from the floor. When the first potion was done, I gave it to the sickest person I could see with my impaired vision. I never liked making someone else test the first brew of a new potion, but I was out of options. I didn’t have time to keep running the tests on myself. This was my last shot. If it failed, we were done.

I didn’t wait to see their results. Instead, I continuously created more potions until I handed one out to everyone in the room. When everyone had been catered for, I looked at the potion between my fingers, barely able to hold it. The longer I stared at it, the less I felt I deserved it. My experimental brews had only ever caused the guild trouble in the past. Had I focused more on conventional methods, maybe we would have survived this?

The choice was taken away from me, with the guild’s archer, Ronan, pushing the bottle to my lips. He massaged my throat until the liquid was down before sitting by my side. “You did good. Saved a lot of us.”

I didn’t answer, unable to pull my gaze away from the ones who had fallen. Three of our guild’s finest dead, as well as countless others whom I had barely known. That didn’t feel like a good job.

“We’ll get Nilal back for this. I’ll put an arrow in him for every person we lost here today.” The bravado strong in his tone, until it weakened when he had to ask himself the question. “Why would he do this?”

Taking a deep breath, I got some air back into my lungs before speaking. “He wanted to test its effects. I always chose to experiment on myself. He preferred using others. I never imagined he would do something like this, though. It goes against the heart of inventing.”

“Maybe he got sick of using us as test-subjects?” Ronan ran a hand through his messy brown hair before getting back to his feet. “Guilds in shambles now. Not sure what happens next. We either elect a new leader or dissolve and go our separate ways.”

“I’m leaving the guild.” I said, joining him in standing. My legs creaked when I got up, and the fatigue was still strong, but I forced myself to my feet.

“Already? We haven’t even decided what we’re doing”

“I won’t rest until he’s dead. I’m going to stuff every potion I have down his throat so he knows what it’s like to be the test-subject for once.”

Ronan looked at me, examining my features before nodding. He reached behind his left shoulder and drew an arrow from his bag, handing it to me. “I’ll leave my revenge in your hands then. When you find him, stab him with this. Give me some revenge as well.”

“Right.” I found an empty pocket in my coat, slipping the arrow inside. “You’re staying then?”

“Think I’ll throw my hat in the ring and try to become the next leader. The guild meant a lot of things to a lot of people. It was a home for all of us. I would hate to see it fall apart.”

“Good luck.”

“Are you going to stay for the funeral?”

“I…” I looked back at the corpses, who were already being moved to a backroom of the guild, away from their mourning guild-mates. My eyes stung, and the thought of staying felt like it would break my resolve for revenge. “I’ll mourn them when I return.”

“Make sure you return then.”

“Oh, God. There he is again, Martin. Look at him, standing there in just a bathrobe, without even a shred of dignity. It’s the same robe as the last four days. We really are trapped.” Jessica hugged her husband, the former Olympic shotput champion, horrified by the mundane scene she was witnessing.

“It’s ok. There’s always a way to break these curses. Maybe we need to break up our routine? What if today we drive and walk backwards, would that reverse the loop?” Martin said, patting his wife’s toned bicep. The former TV star/wrestler still held that perfect TV aesthetic, even when no cameras were rolling. They say some people live their gimmicks, and he was the perfect example of that. Even in the freezing cold weather, he wore shorts, a T-shirt with his own face on it, and a pair of disco sunglasses.

Andy tightened his robe, giving himself a quick glance over, making sure nothing was showing. When he confirmed his robe was modest, he approached the two. The couple gave him a bug-eyed stare, as if he were a bathrobe-wearing alien that was about to ask them if he could phone home.

“Bit rude to say I don’t have a shred of dignity, innit?”

“It’s talking…” Jessica whispered.

“It? I’ve got a name…”

“Ah, it’s like a riddle. I know, it’s like my gimmick match against Deadly Force. I had to shout his real name to stop his super-slam, allowing me to climb the ladder and steal the championship gold. If we guess his name, we’ll break the curse.”

“The what?” Andy blinked, now feeling like he was the one who’d encountered two aliens that lacked any knowledge about basic human behaviour.

“Oh, ohhh. That makes a lot of sense. It’s a puzzle. What could his name be? James?”

“It’s Andy.”

“No, that’s stupid.” Jessica shook her head, trying to come up with a new name for this neighbor they had seen every day for the last four days.

“What about Andy?” Martin suggested.

“That’s my name….”

“Oh, you’re so clever, dear. We broke the curse. Now we’ll wake up in our beds, and everything will return to normal.” The two shut their eyes, while Andy awkwardly stood before them, scratching his rear.

“Listen, you bellends, there isn’t a curse. Are you off your heads or something?” Andy finally snapped. The harsh words caused their eyes to pop open again, looking directly at him.

“We didn’t wake up. What is this hell?” Martin shrieked.

“What if he’s right? Maybe there isn’t a curse?” Jessica said, finally adding some logic to the situation.

“Of course, the curse exists. How else could you explain this boring town? Every day, it’s been the same routine. The same people working the same jobs. The same conversations, and even the same movie at the cinema.” Martin pulled Jessica back into his convoluted tale about time loops, making her believe in it again.

“It’s a small town, mate. We don’t have that many people around, so everyone has their routines. It can’t be that weird, can it?”

“I’m freaking out, babe. Really freaking out,” Martin hugged his wife as the two slowly backed away from Andy.

Andy remained stuck in his spot, giving them a confused stare. He stepped forward to calm them down, and they instinctively bounced back, flinching. “What?”

“Don’t come any closer.” Jessica picked up a newspaper off her lawn, resting the folded paper on her shoulder, getting ready to throw it. Andy threw his hands up as if she were holding a gun, not wanting to take a direct hit from that loaded arm.

He had seen enough of her shotput videos on YouTube to know that if she tossed that his way, it had a chance of either giving him a concussion or knocking his head clean off his shoulders. “Wait. Hold on a second, don’t throw that at me.”

“Why not? What if this is how we break the loop? What if we have to kill him?” Jessica said, her shotput arm trembling.

“WAIT.”

“That could be it. We have to cause some destruction to end this loop. It’s a test. Boring towns don’t exist. Everywhere I’ve been has been swarming with activity.” Martin and Jessica both started approaching as Andy backed away.

“Same, everywhere I went I was a star. Every day was an adventure. This is boring.”

“Didn’t you two say you moved here for a quiet life?” Andy tried to defuse the situation, but the fuse had already been lit minutes ago.

“This is too quiet. Quiet like this doesn’t exist. Nice try, loop master, but we’re going to end this now,” Martin threatened.

Andy raised his arms, trying to pathetically stop the attack. He saw his two attackers inches away from him, both ready to pounce, only for them to stop, wearing a strangely amused expression.

“That’s…. different.” Jessica said, glancing down at Andy.

“Yes…. It is. That hasn’t happened before,” Martin agreed.

“Did we break the loop? Was that all we had to do?”

“I think we did. WE BROKE THE LOOP.”

The couple hugged, while Andy stood on his lawn, feeling a strange chill running through his body. He wondered if it was the chill of nearly being killed by two crazed celebrities or something else entirely.

“Um? Congratulations on breaking it. Now, no other loops will happen no matter how boring things are. So, don’t do any of this stuff again, alright?” Andy said, hoping to prevent this from happening again in the future.

“Duh, time loops can only happen once. We aren’t stupid.” Martin scowled as the couple returned to their home.

Andy remained on his lawn, bewildered by the morning he had. He opened his mailbox, only to gasp when he felt another shiver. When did it get so cold? He searched for the source of the chill, only to squeal, pulling his robes closed again. Was that what they had been looking at? Is that what they considered amusing?

“You remind me a lot of someone I once knew. Well, at least physically. You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Alice twisted the tip of her dagger, wedging it further beneath his helmet, slipping it through the thin gap by his neck.

The husk-knight roared, its foul breath almost fiercer than its sword. Alice held her ground, pushing her forearm against its chest-plate, keeping it pinned against the royal red carpet of the throne-room.

“You didn’t deserve to end up like this. You were a great hero. Perhaps the only great hero I’ll ever see in my lifetime. Goodbye, Samuel.”

With a forceful shove forward, her dagger pierced the flesh beneath the helmet. The once sporadic movements of the knight now slowed as green acidic blood oozed from beneath the helmet, dissolving whatever it touched. When Alice pulled her dagger free, she found the tip already melted, leaving an irregular blade in its place.

“You should be dead.” The king spluttered, shuffling across the room. His worn, old legs trying to carry him to the heavy doors of the throne-room.

Alice followed behind him, not needing to rush her steps, easily catching up to him. “Appears I’m not the only one who likes to cheat death. I’m in good company.” She grabbed the neck of his robe, pulling him toward her. One arm wrapped around the king’s stomach, while her other held the melted dagger tip to his throat.

“Release me.” The words came out strong, giving her an order she promptly ignored.

“You should have tried to escape while I was busy with your knight. That would have been the smart thing to do.” She let go of the king, and the man made a slow dash for the door again.

She didn’t stop him this time, only watching as his frail, wrinkled fingers hit the wood, unable to force it open. The door rattled and groaned with the contact, but refused to budge. “What did you do?”

“I locked it. I’m sure if you bang hard enough, the guards will notice and break down the door. Though, is that how you want to spend your last moments? Banging on a door, screaming guards! Guards!”

“What do you want?” He turned to his attacker, staring at the former queen. A wicked woman who reigned over her kingdom with an iron fist. Torturing those who dared to speak up about her cruelty. At least, that’s what King Worbel would have you believe. Now, her kingdom no longer existed. Instead, it was absorbed into the great Arthuia Kingdom, which was led by the very same King Worbel.

“I thought that would be obvious.” Alice said, sliding the dagger into her pocket. She no longer wore purple and black robes, nor did she wear any house symbols. She dressed like a common traveler, all leather pants and easy to clean brown tops.

“Your kingdom? Is that it? You want me to hand back what you’re owed?”

“I believe it’s far too late for that. Word of the wicked queen has spread throughout the land, tricking not only noble heroes but also some of my own people. If I came back, someone would come for my head. No, I’m returning a stranger’s kindness.”

The king grimaced, turning to the door, pounding his old fists against the wood. “GUARDS! GUARDS!” he cried, realizing there was no longer a chance for negotiation.

Alice sighed and walked behind the old man, grabbing him again by his robes, dragging him towards the fallen husk knight, whose blood still bubbled with scorching fury. She pushed the king onto his knees, listening to the sounds of guards throwing themselves against the door outside.

“If you accepted a dignified death, I would have made it quick. Now, I think I’ll allow this knight to get their revenge.”

“Revenge?” The king’s legs shook, struggling to get to his feet. “You can have my kingdom. You can have my people. S-spare my life. This was all a mistake. The people never believed my lies.”

“There was one person who didn’t believe your lies. A great hero. A man who cried when he heard my story. A man I admired. He offered to help me clear my name once he heard the truth, but the war was already over by that point. I refused to throw more lives away to further a conflict that was done. You would have won anyway. Which is why I only asked him to protect my kingdom in my place.”

“He never killed you…. He told me he buried you in an unmarked grave. Somewhere you would be forgotten.”

“I expected him to take my head back to you. Which is why I was surprised when he spared my life. I would have stayed ‘dead’ if the protector of my kingdom hadn’t mysteriously fallen. Funny, he fell around the same time you got your latest knight. Did he have a change of heart about you?”

The king’s gaze narrowed on the door, watching the wood creak, budging enough that he could now see the iron weapons of his guards through the gap. “He heard about my plans to invade the eastern kingdoms. Said he didn’t want to be involved in another pointless war. So, I made him comply.”

The king’s confidence grew with each passing second, seeing his guards so close to rescuing him. Before he could watch them burst through the door, he saw another sight. The sight of a large knight’s body being shoved on top of him, trapping him underneath.

“Enjoy.” That was all Alice said, giving the body a hard kick to the back of the head, causing more blood to spill out. The corpse leaked its acidic blood onto the king, burning his body that was trapped underneath.

When the guards entered, the horrific sight of their dying king froze them. None moved initially, too terrified to think, allowing Alice to slip through a nearby window. Once outside, the guards rushed to save their king, only to find a half-melted head that was beyond saving.

“You’re brilliant,” Clint said, watching the demon emerge from the body of his patient. The demon’s glowing yellow eyes were confused, not expecting that reaction from the human who had sold their soul to him.

“You asked me to perform a role, and I did that. That was the agreement we had, was it not?” They pulled themselves free from the body and returned to Clint’s side, staring at the unconscious human. “Do you think she’ll survive the disease?”

“I would almost guarantee it. An early diagnosis has an 80% survival rate. We’ve caught it before it would even show up in normal tests.”

“What do you mean?”

“At this stage of the disease, no doctor would have even noticed she’s sick. It’s all internal right now, slowly building within her. We don’t have the tools to see something that miniscule. Maybe if we ran every test possible on her, we might have noticed something, but no doctor would have signed off on that unless she was showing some symptoms first. This random check-up may have saved her life, and you were responsible for that.”

Nuxoia tensed. “Demons don’t save lives. We take them. I did what was asked of me.”

“Nonsense. You were exceptional. You understood where the disease was located and were even able to tell me exactly what her internals looked like. If I were a betting man, I would even wager that you were a doctor in your previous life. Maybe even a surgeon.”

“I could have been a serial killer who knows a lot about dead bodies?”

“Ah…” Clint awkwardly rubbed his cheek. “That would make sense, I suppose. Still, thank you for helping me. I couldn’t do it without it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Couldn’t do it without you.” Clint smiled, his eyes opening to find a beautiful blue sky above him. “Do you remember the day we first worked together?”

“I do. I thought you were going to piss yourself when I told you I could have been a serial killer.” Nuxoia laughed, covering his eyes, finding this new light blinding.

“Where are we?”

“I believe we’re dead.”

“Dead? I thought I would vanish once I died. I don’t have a soul, do I?” Clint watched the floating clouds pass over his head as he tried to piece together what had happened.

“You have a soul. It’s just in my possession. Well, it was in my possession.” The demon twisted on the grass, unable to meet the bright sun above, finding it painful to look at. He rolled onto his stomach, finding some relief when he faced the ground.

“Was?”

“I let your soul go. A doctor who gave his soul to help others... that’s not worthy of eternal torture.”

“Aren’t you going to be punished for it?” Clint panicked, turning to his demonic friend, only to find a human beside him. The human had slick black hair and wore the tattered black suit he had been buried in, with a knife hole in its back and streaks of dirt along its sleeves.

“I’m already being punished now. Those bright lights are trying to claw my eyes out.” He groaned at his punishment, only to pause. “Wait, why are you in hell?”

“We aren’t in hell. Seems you’ve been forgiven.” Clint smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder. The former demon stirred, blinking at the bright lights.

“Forgiven?” Then it hit him. All those former memories rushed back like a vault had opened in his mind. How he had started as a doctor with good intentions, working in a small clinic. Though after five years of running his clinic, he was struggling to get customers, so he promoted himself as a no-questions asked clinic. A place where anyone could get treatment, without him reporting them.

Soon, he was bringing in the cash. He had mobsters, assassins, and gangsters all rushing to him for whatever they needed. Pills, surgeries, you name it. He didn’t care that he was allowing these people to live healthy lives. As long as he got paid, he was happy.

So, he couldn’t complain when his practice ended up costing him his life. A mob boss putting a knife through his back because he got greedy. He was only supposed to help members of one mob family, but the ever greedy doctor wanted it all. He thought he could take cash from each family and keep it hidden, not realizing how often those families talked….

“Forgiven… I forgot what it was like to be a doctor. I forgot how rewarding it was to help someone. To genuinely help someone.” Tim sobbed, covering his eyes as the weight of his sins collapsed over him. “It… felt good… even as a demon, working with you felt good. I never understood why…”

“I always assumed you had to have been a doctor in your past life. You always seemed too knowledgeable for an average demon. Even if you were the only demon I’ve ever met.” He gave his friend a warm hug, keeping him close. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

Tim returned the hug, sobbing against his friend’s shoulder. “I don’t belong here. People died because of me.”

“And people lived because of you too. Maybe it was all a test? To see if there was any goodness left in you. You could have taken my soul. It was your right, and yet you freed me.”

“Because I enjoyed our time together. I enjoyed getting to feel human again. You treated me like a colleague, not a beast who was waiting to steal your soul.”

“I treated you like a friend because you were a friend. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you either. I couldn’t have become myself again without you. Thank you.” Tim released the hug and looked up at the sky, amazed by its beauty.

“I believe we need to reintroduce ourselves. I’m Clint.” He offered his hand to Tim.

“I’m Tim… It feels weird saying that name again.” They shook hands and got off the ground.

“Now, we should go catch up with everyone. I have a lot of family to meet, and I’m sure you have a lot of things you need to explain to your family.”