by Shad N Freud
“I’ve been contracted to test you, to make sure you’re worthy of this Class Alpha McGuffin. Are we clear? Or shall I dig out some crayons so that I can draw you a picture?”
Jin stepped forward, between Cenere and the Elder God, and smiled. “You know, all things being equal, I’d have loved to see that. But, what with the fact that we’re, you know, on a time table? All this bickering is getting us nowhere. So, we need to get the gun from inside the maze, right?”
“Correct. Anything you pick up along the way? Yours to keep, so long as you make it out alive. Now then, there are differently colored rooms, each has its own…rules. White rooms will heal you, blue rooms restore your spells, gold rooms are full of riches, red rooms contain mighty foes, and black rooms spell your doom. Should you find a gold statuette of my likeness, you can return one of the fallen to the room you are in. I think that about covers the mandatory tutorial for this trial…honestly, I hate having to do the whole ‘rules and regulations’ part. Now then, if you’re ready, I’ll open the door. Good luck.”
∞∞∞
-the present-
“I really hate this place,” Zeke groused as he stared at his leathery skin. He’d been turned back into a normal lizard for the purposes of this task, and knew he’d be back to his “normal” self after the trials, but…he’d gotten used to the extra strength and power he’d gained by being killed and rebuilt by tiny molecular robots. It had not, oddly enough, inhibited his ability to generate Ki, and as he had been getting used to his new limbs, he discovered that his arms contained hidden weapons. Three-inch diamond-coated blades could sprout from his fingertips and his body was capable of converting some of his Ki into non-biological energy, allowing him to activate his arms’ secondary weapons systems. The nanites could spend several seconds converting his arms into a pair of scaled down SPEDS, each roughly a tenth of the normal weapon’s capability and lacking the massive thermo-blast. It ended up causing the plasma bolt to function more like a grenade than a low yield tactical nuke.
He did miss having his father’s sword, though. At least the sword was now part of him; it allowed him to keep the blade close to his heart. Literally.
He looked over at his little friend. Aside from his sense of smell, Jin had been stripped of his draconic power. Such had put the little guy in a foul mood and made him twitchy, throwing fireballs at minor threats. Every time they ran across a blue room, he cast numerous buff spells on the party, as well as healing everyone back to full health. Cenere likewise noticed that his own source of power was restored, which was a bit of a head scratcher as his connection to Hell had been cut off the instant he walked into the temple.
Camilla was still in a foul mood due to starting her monthlies, as well as having her babies taken away, so she rolled her eyes as Longinus started down the right-handed path and into the red room. Red rooms, despite being filled with monsters, also tended to have more ammunition. He wasn’t worried about dying, being immortal and all, and his spear was the only magical weapon they currently had. It had come to be damned useful in the trial, as the spear had a nasty habit of being lethal to Evil beings.
Longinus kicked the door open with a bored look on his face and jabbed his spear forward, causing a screech and a thud as the gorgon within was felled with a single thrust through the heart. Yes, the spear was damned lethal to evil creatures. But then, so was Longinus. His skill with a spear was, well, legendary. He had pin-point accuracy with the damn thing, and if there was a chink in an enemy’s armor, he always seemed to find it instinctively. Lethally. This gorgon? Not even worth talking about.
Inside was a wall of weapons of various kinds, better armor than the group outside the room was currently wearing, and enough ammunition to take over a small third world country. The door to the next room, a black room, came apart almost instantly under the heel of Longinus’ combat boots. He then threw his spear, burying the tip in the wall behind him, and stepped into the Black room, with both fingers up for the cameras in the various hidden locations in this damned “temple.”
Apparently, the Trial was being broadcast across the multiverse, as were all Ghallorican Trials. It had the best ratings of any ShawCorp’s Subsidiary Vidnet Channel, and the reruns that got the best ratings were the ones for planes that failed. When the group found this out, they had immediately let their displeasure be known, as it was one thing to railroad someone into saving their world, to be forced to defend the common person from death by way of a demon. Power leads to responsibility, so while it was a raw deal, it was one they could swallow. It came with the territory. But, to have to do so as entertainment for others? That was going too far.
At least it was until Ghallorican threatened to leave and take the gun with him. At that point, he sweetened the pot: he would grant a minor wish for each member of the party when they survived, and they’d be granted an hourly wage, at a rate of twenty-five grams gold to undertake the maze as well as a bonus for every red and black room they cleared. All of which would be doubled should they find the gold room without dying. So, they reluctantly agreed to dance like monkeys to his organ grinder. This was the third deathtrap Lonnie walked into, entering willingly since he discovered a nifty fact about the black rooms: the prize for survival was a revival statuette, an instant resurrection for any of the dead members of the team.
This deathtrap in particular room was a lethal gas that had already flooded the room. Longinus began choking almost immediately and staggered over to the glass case that held a respawn token like the three others that clinked against his leg, wrapping his fingers around it, and staggered back out of the room, the door to which reformed as soon as he stepped back out. He collapsed to the floor and immediately went into convulsions, foaming at the mouth as the military grade nerve toxins caused him to soil himself before his heart stopped, his throat sealed up, and his lungs filled with fluid. Thirty seconds later, all brain function ceased, and his soul fled his body. It tried to fly away before being drawn up short by the golden chain that shackled him to the damn spear binding him to the plane.
He sighed, floating in place as the spear glowed momentarily, and the damage caused by the lethal toxins was slowly undone. He then felt a sharp tug on his ankle and his soul slammed back into his body. Longinus sat up, gasping for air as his allies perused the new weapons selections.
“Ah! Good to see ye back among th' living, Lonnie.” Camilla smiled, offering him a hand up. He rolled his eyes as he let her help him to his feet. He then grabbed his spear and ripped it out of the wall.
Meanwhile, Cenere was gently stroking the paired wrist holsters that conjured a selection of knife types, allowing him to choose material, style, and even the damned color. These knives would then last a full thirty seconds after striking their target and the wrist cuffs would pop them into his hands as quickly as he could throw them. He’d also found a custom weapon that he caressed reverently; a segmented snake blade with an extending enchantment, a vibrating edge, and the ability to channel Hellfire like his whip. It could extend or retract as he desired, and he was thoroughly in love with the damned thing.
Camilla found his devotion to this blade a little disturbing but wouldn’t say anything about it. She’d be a hypocrite if she did. In addition to Thumper, she now had Fwoosh as she called her quad-barreled, shoulder-mounted plasma bolter, and her newest acquisition, Thwack, a two-handed war hammer with an adamantine head that crackled with electricity. It had an embossed relief of a ram on either side of the hammer that seemed to graze on an exquisitely engraved field of grass on either side. When swung, the ram on the engraving would run forward, and slam into the striking edge of the hammer. The head of the hammer would then add the force of two adamantine rams clashing horns at thirty miles an hour to a twenty-four square inch surface covered in half inch spikes. She’d been first in the room after he’d dispatched the Hydra and called dibs on the smashy hammer.
Camilla had also noticed a rather fine linked mithril shirt that was glamoured to change
its appearance to become regular clothing. It had been snatched up by Sachi, however, and she couldn’t bring herself to try and take it from her friend, as she’d only grabbed more ammo for her guns at the last several red rooms, leaving whatever goodies might also be there. She turned when Cenere handed her a small derringer, the gun loaded with a single disruptor minie ball. She quirked up an eyebrow at the small pistol, as well as the contraption designed to make the small gun spring forth from her sleeve. She shrugged and put on the ridiculous little gun with the straps that held the mechanism, testing it a few times to get the feel for it. She then nodded at Cenere, “Might come in handy. Thanks.”
Jin crossed his arms in a huff. “Why is there never anything cool for the little guy?” He turned on his heel, throwing a pain-killer spell on Longinus as he left the room. Longinus’ frayed nerves settled from the slight twitch the nerve gas had caused. Granted, it was entirely psychosomatic, but it still hurt. He nodded in appreciation at the gnome as he slung his spear across his shoulders.
Zeke had likewise struck out on things he wanted to grab from the room, as there weren’t any weapons he wanted to carry around now that his fists could normally bend steel on accident and he could discharge a plasma ball capable of blowing up a car with a few seconds preparation. For now, he’d just settle for beating the shit out of whatever got in his way.
∞∞∞
In the Vatican, in a hospital room with padded walls, a half-orc with disheveled hair sat staring at the floor of his room. Every surface in the room was cushioned and he was drooling as he stared at the floor. He was dosed up on enough Thorazine to tranquilize an elephant and his lower jaw hung open, his tongue resting between his tusks, swaddled tightly in a straight-jacket with a caged-helmet around his face so that he wouldn’t bite his doctors when the Thorazine wore off.
This was a necessary precaution, as the man’s eyes, despite the drugs they were using to keep him docile, were each an ocean of fire and were he capable of spewing that fire forth from his eyes, he would burn the world to cinders. A knock at the door caused him to turn his eyes towards his visitor. A noticeably pregnant tiefling wearing a black armband of rough, coarse cloth that itched constantly slipped into the room and strode gracefully to him, pulling out a stethoscope and plugging it into her ears. She then took his vitals before she carefully sat down on the floor across from him.
“I am so sorry, Carl. If I wasn’t pregnant, I would have been there, with her, and you know I would have died before I’d have let that happen.” Cardinal Belladonna di Autunno placed her hand on Carl’s shoulder, flinching back slightly at the burning orbs of hate in her dear friend’s face.
He’d been oscillating between maddened grief and lucidly planning revenge on a certain Demon Prince since the Pope told him the unfortunate news and had put Graahl through a wall in his rage. He’d then wept copiously, spending a large part of his time in the Vatican’s poshest Bedlam either medicated into catatonia or ranting and raving, bashing and smashing. After the third orderly was put into the ICU, Carl had been trussed up as he was now. Nothing in the room had a hard edge or a sharp corner, nor did the toilet have water to drown himself with. His two-day stubble was starting to itch, and as he was tied up, couldn’t scratch at it.
“We’ll get the bitch who did this, and make sure she can’t-,”
“No.”
Bella blinked when Carl interrupted her. Considering the amount of the anti-psychotic drugs in his system, he shouldn’t have been lucid, much less capable of speech. She watched as Carl struggled against his bonds and finally ripped an arm free. He then ripped the cage off of his face, and tugged at the suppression toe ring. When he noted it was cursed, so as not to be easily removeable, he did the sensible thing and bit his toe off. Once the toe was free, the ring came right off, and he grunted as he put it back against the stump, infusing the wound with Hellfire, the green flames restoring his toe.
He shuddered as he stared at the ring on the floor as he go to his feet, glaring at Bella as she hastily crawled into the corner, trying to get away from the hideously powerful, angry half-orc in front of her. He glowered down at her for a moment before his face sagged, and he offered her a hand up. “I need a cigarette, luv. Won’t let me smoke in here, and I really need one.”
The fire in his eyes guttered, drawing down to a pilot light, as tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he leaned back against the wall.
Bella motioned to the guard on the other side of the door, who shook his head incredulously. She then held up her hand and glared at the man as she reminded him that she was not only a Cardinal, but a Grand Inquisitor to boot. She knew that Carl could easily open the door if he wanted to and leave the hospital. The amount of damage caused in the process depended on how many people tried to get in his way. When they grabbed him three weeks prior, it had been because he’d come quietly, as he didn’t want his people doing something stupid, like trying to save him from custody.
The guard looked nervous as he shook his head. Yes, she was a Cardinal, and a Grand Inquisitor to boot, but his orders were coming straight from the Pope. Carl Beaumont was to remain in his cell until such time as he was determined not to be a danger to himself or others. Only the fact that Bella was a licensed Psychiatrist had allowed her to enter the room, and even then, it was rather dubious to allow a pregnant woman into the same room as a mentally broken man on suicide watch.
Carl walked over to the door and put his fist through the three-inch steel plate, his flaming fist flickering ominously as the orderly quickly backpedaled away from the door and hit the call button for security. Carl’s fist returned to a non-burning state when he reached for the door handle and tried to open the door before Graahl strode over, pulled Carl’s hand back gently, and stuffed it back into the room. He then shook his head at Carl through the glass, opening the door, and handing Carl his pack of cigarettes as he stepped out.
The fire in Carl’s eye was guttering as he slipped a cigarette into his mouth and lit it with his thumb. The rich smell of anise filled the corridor as the security teams, armed for a demon incursion, filled both sides of the hall. Carl looked up and a ghost of a smile graced his features as he looked at the assembled teams.
“All this for little old me? Graahl, I didn’t know you cared.”
The honey badger grunted in amusement as he placed a hand on Carl’s shoulder, then leaned in and shocked Carl by whispering in his ear. “I know your pain, friend. I watched my entire tribe get slaughtered by Portuguese soldiers as they tried to exterminate my people. I...I'd heard that my family as well as the rest of my tribe were gunned down by slavers before I snapped and…it gets fuzzy, but I remember a tall man with a funny hat burning me with Hellfire and bringing me out of my rage. That was three hundred years ago, Carl. And it hasn’t gotten any easier.
“You’ll get through this. You’ll survive. And you’ll destroy the bitch that did this to you. But, for now, get back into the room and let Bella mother you a bit. Oh, and remember that if you tell Seppe I can talk, I’ll break both of your legs.”
Carl actually laughed at that and let the honey badger guide him back to the room. The security team pushed forward, intent on putting Carl back into his straight jacket, only for Graahl to growl at them and shake his head. They stopped dead in their tracks as he snarled at anyone with a gun or a baton that tried to get into the room. He pulled out his chalk board and wrote “STAND DOWN” on it, showing it to the massed security force.
If Carl had been in a mood to leave, only he would be able to stop the frightening man-thing, and that was only because of sheer tenacity, his increased age, and deeper capacity for treachery. Even then, he didn’t relish the idea of fighting one of his better friends, especially since Carl was his second favorite drinking buddy.
The doctors protested, of course, but Bella instituted an order to allow Carl to smoke in his room. He would be allowed to smoke and receive visitors, as Bella no longer believed him to be a danger to himself or innocent bystan
ders. He would be given a few more days to grieve, then would be pressed back into service. Bella hated it, as Tristanna had been a good friend and rival for the big guy’s affections. She’d lost out to the elf, and had been resentful about it at the time, but realized when Sophie was born just how right the two of them were together. She’d reached out then and visited when she could and was known as Sophie’s favorite ‘aunt.’
As soon as she was clear of the hospital, Bella fled to her hotel room and cried. She couldn’t bear having to see Carl so distraught, so broken, so…desolate. And that poor broken man would have to go save the world, put his own pain aside long enough to prevent the fucking apocalypse, the entire damned reason his wife and daughter were dead. Bella glared at her swollen belly and wished she hadn’t agreed to act as a surrogate for one of her parishioners. If she weren’t pregnant, she’d have died to protect her best friend’s wife and daughter. She glared at the baby bump that kept her from drinking away her guilt.
∞∞∞
“Gold room ahead. Dibs on staves, rods or wands.” Jin muttered as he shuffled his feet. They’d been in this damned maze for almost a month and had amassed a huge haul of treasure, which was great and all, but everyone’s nerves were on edge. Lonnie had started handing off the statuettes to the others, as his belt was full of them, and Camilla looked twitchier by the hour. Ghallorican, the right prick, had failed to provide sanitary napkins for the women in the party, who were now on their monthlies.
Zeke was starting to look at Lonnie like a walking side of beef as they had no rations to speak of and were making do by eating the edible enemies they ran across. It did little to sate the walking gator’s hunger, however, and his stomach rumbled ominously. Such was the curse of having an obligate carnivore in the group and Jin could sympathize as he’d had a craving for seafood ever since his awakening and could utterly destroy some sushi right about now. Sachi, normally silent and stoic, was oscillating between begging Camilla to end the horrifically painful menstruation she was suffering from, and viciously slaughtering foes that chose the wrong moment to exist.