The fourth side was wide open to the aisle but the chains manacled to his left wrist and right ankle were not long enough to let him meander quite that far. He had not been provided so much as a chamber pot, but since he didn’t need to eat actual food in this world he hadn’t had to poop for weeks. Robin supposed he could just pee on the shelves and some nameless beige customer would eventually buy a urine-tinged recliner. If they ever gave him water. Come to think of it, he was kinda thirsty.
At least the orange devil had been nice enough to wrap a clean cloth around his torso to bandage the bleeding wounds from Kel’Gymath’s claws. Once again, just like in the aftermath of the Feral
“Hello? Who’s there?” A tentative female voice came from over the back “wall” of his “cell”.
“Uh, it’s me.”
“Who’s ‘Me’? Is that actually your name?” she asked with a hint of a chuckle.
“No, uh… sorry. I’m not really thinking straight right now,” he apologized. No, my name is Robin. What’s yours?”
There was a brief silence. After hearing the devils had another MysticUndead
“I’m the MidTown Witch. I own the MidTown Pet Kitchen,” she finally replied as if fearing a negative reaction to that revelation. He could hear a rattle of chains as she moved.
His back was really hurting and that pesky left knee needed a rest so Robin plopped onto his stomach cradling his face in crossed arms. “So you can call me ‘Me’ and I can call you ‘MidTown Witch’. I guess that’s no weirder than some of the devil and Feral
Another chuckle came from her side of the furniture rack. “Sorry. Habit. Volunteering a name to certain folk can give them limited power over a person, especially if killed by their hand. You’re not Undead
“No, not yet. Hopefully not ever.”
“Good. My actual name is Valentina, though most people call me Val.”
“Well, Val, nice to meetcha. Wish we were in a coffee shop or something.” Robin sighed, he missed coffee, though he didn’t miss the caffeine deprivation headaches he’d get when things were too busy to get an afternoon fix. “Are human? I am. I guess we’re called MysticsPlayerswha-waa-waa, so he knew she wasn’t a beige NPC like Betty.
“Fair question, Robin,” she said. “I am, indeed, quite human and fully alive. I know the city’s Undead
“Yeah, I saw a whole apartment building get turned into zombies. I’ve been out in the burbs for most of my time here. All this city shit is new. Actually, I’m really still quite new to this world and this dumb game.”
“Oh.”
He couldn’t quite decipher her tone there. Pity? Commiseration? Was she sorry for him? “Yeah, I think I’ve really fucked up my life. And that’s saying something. Back on Earth I really hadn’t amounted to much either.”
“Oh, I see. I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Still no read on her meaning. “What kind of MysticMallSantaClaus
“I’m a KitchenWitch
“Huh. So, like, you control pots and pans and stuff? Do you have an animated Walking Wok as your familiar or something, like in ?”
Val let out a genuine-sounding laugh. “That’s pretty funny. No. I specialize in potions and foods and medicines. Mostly for regular household pets and Ferals
Robin whistled. “So you’re a wereDoctor? Like when a wereCrab gets a case of the crabs they come to you to clear it up?”
She laughed again. “Were you a comedian back in the real world?”
“No, worse. An actor.”
Yet one more laugh, though this one felt a tad forced. “I love performers. Some of my closest friends are… were, theater nerds. Though they mostly did it as a hobby, not a vocation.”
“They sound smart,” Robin admitted. “I shouldn’t have been doing it for a living either. Actually, it was a living, though nowhere near as dangerous as living in this place. I’ve got, like, a ton of questions. Do you mind if I ask them?”
“Sure, go ahead. We’ve got nothing better to do until the next torture session.”
Robin’s stomach clenched, but he put imagery of beatings and rapings out of his mind as best he could and concentrated on getting to know Val, like in a first date sort of way. “What got you locked up with these bastards? How long have you been here? Do you belong to a faction? Are you the one who made the UndeadFirehouse Ferals
Her chains rattled and he could hear the rustle of bed fabric from her side. Maybe she was settling in for good conversation. “I’m not entirely sure why the InfernalsCoterieMysticsfeyFolkFerals
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
She paused and Robin let the silence hold until she was ready to say more.
Val sighed. “Anyway, I the one who made the UndeadDissolvent
Robin groaned. “Um, remind me in a minute to tell you about them. They are definitely out of the acid.”
“Uh, okay. As to how to get home, I haven’t the first or last fucking clue. I wish I did. I’m from Wisconsin and I miss it a ton. At this point, I’ve pretty much given up hope of ever leaving. I don’t think it’s possible. I lived through the regime change, but to be honest, I barely remember anything about the previous game time. I had an apprentice who became obsessed with the idea of going home, but she’s… Where are you from? I feel like I’m blathering moronically.”
“Nah, you’re fine. It’s cool. I babble too when I’m nervous. Or scared,” Robin replied. “I’m from New Mexico. I miss it too. I miss my friends. My family. My ridiculous little cousin who sent me here.”
“What do you mean ‘sent you here’? I just woke up here one day after falling asleep on the couch watching for the 100th time. Don’t laugh, but I’ve had the thought there might be some sort of curse on movies and if you watch them too many times you get portal'd away.”
It was Robin’s turn to chuckle. “Hah! If that were true, I’d be living as an aging houseboy in the Miami home of two nightclub owners.”
“! I love that movie.” Val sounded authentically delighted. “At least I’m imprisoned with a fellow queer. I guess we can take some consolation in that. You gay, right?”
“Like a three-dollar bill,” Robin pronounced with clichéd limp wrist even though she couldn’t see him.
They spent quite a while, probably hours, just chatting about mundane things from home. Val had run a Wiccan apothecary in small town Wisconsin. Her love of animals had tempted her at becoming a veterinarian but she had’t been able to afford the schooling. She was weirdly satisfied at getting to live out a perverse version of that dream in this game world. It also turned out Monika had been the apprentice she mentioned. Given their similar skill sets, it wasn’t surprising. Val, however, was unwilling to talk much about the alchemist no matter how much Robin prodded.
He told her about his team’s assault and subsequent eradication of the Firehouse Ferals
“What was that sound?” Val asked.
Robin wasn’t sure he had heard what he thought he heard, but the warehouse was quiet so it must have been his SantaSack
“Do you have a cell phone?” Val queried. “It sounds like a cell phone is buzzing or giving off radio static.”
Robin shot to his feet. “Shhh, wait for it to go off again.”
The sounds were coming from the second tier shelf on one side of his enclosure. “I think they must have tossed my SantaSack
Yep, his bag must be just on the other side and slightly above him. “You don’t happen to have a levitation spell, do you Val?”
“No. Sorry. Besides, they’ve been draining so much FearAttribute
Robin gulped. “I’m down to a little under half of my own cards. Do they not let us rest enough to recover them?”
“Just enough to keep us from dying or going insane. They’ll probably be coming for me in an hour or so.”
“Unless they come for me,” Robin muttered, letting dread flavor his voice. “I am the fresher snack.”
Val was kind enough not to say anything which actually did the opposite of allaying his fears about retaining bodily integrity. He was starting to feel panicky. If that was the arcane walkie-talkie calling, he might be able to talk to Dana again, but he had no physical way to reach the sack to get the item out.
“Please, Val, is there you can do? If I can just open my bag we might be able to call for help. From back home, I mean.”
“What do you mean ‘back home’?” Val sounded like she thought he was talking crazy. Maybe he was, but this was the first time the damn little radio thing had activated since Raflili first attacked them at Betty’s house.
Robin nearly screeched, “I mean back on Earth. I know it sounds insane, but a walkie-talkie appeared in my SantaSack
It wouldn’t keep ringing forever. “Please. Help.” He couldn’t CharmHoarfrost
“There’s nothing I can do,” Val reiterated, “But if I bring out someone else, then… maybe.”
Robin was confused. “What do you mean? Is there someone else over there with you?”
Val took a second to respond. “Sort of. Her name’s Tina. Hold on a sec—”
He heard her chains and bedspread rustle and maybe there was some hissed whispering as well.
Shit! They were surely running out of time. He knew nothing functioned until it was pulled out of the sack but it was worth a try. “Dana! Can you hear me?” He heard more muttering from Val’s cell, then there was an odd cracking sound, like firewood being split.
Thin, leafy green vines sprouted from the cheap wooden pallet underneath the boxed china hutch. The tendrils grew to wrap up and around the support beams of the metal shelves, little blue flowers bloomed quickly then fell off to flutter to the cement floor.
The vines made their way around the corner to the second tier shelf, encircled the the limp blue bag, and lifted it into the air. The animated vines cocked back and tossed the SantaSack
He snapped it open, reached in and pulled out the funky little walkie-talkie. As soon as it was past the bag's threshold, Dana's voice crackled out of the speaker without Robin even having to press the button. “Robin, I have to go now, but if you’re there just know that I’ve got the hangnail. I think it’s undeadly infected. Please help me get rid of it.”
Robin smashed the button so hard his thumb hurt. “Dana! I’m here. You’re not making sense. Say that again.”
There was no response, just silence. Not even static. Robin plopped to the floor not caring that the claw scratches on his back reopened.
“Oi! Tina!” A familiar, squeaky voice came from further away on Val’s side of the racks. “It’s time for yer therapy again.”
Fuck, that orange devil bitch was back. Robin felt guilty for being glad he was not next on the torture docket, but he was genuinely afraid for Val. She had somehow helped him, probably using up the last of her Attributes
Robin numbly clicked the walkie-talkie’s communication button three more times. The device remained dumbly mute.
“Hey, Robin,” Val called out, a slight Cuban accent. “If Val doesn’t come back and you somehow get home, look up my friends in Wisconsin and tell them I love ‘em.”
“Come along now, Tina dearie,” the orange devil pronounced like she was comforting a shivering kitten. “Don’t get all maudlin just yet. You’ve got plenty of breath in ya. Mister Mystic
“Fuck off, Onnid, you cheap, puta madre,” Val snapped in a tone altogether harsher than any she had displayed before. “Let’s just get this mierda over with, yeah?”
“Fair enough, sweetie. Save your breath for the fun stuff, why doncha.” Chains rattled and he could hear the orange devil retreat down the warehouse aisle followed by Val’s shuffling gait.
Shaking with relief at being spared torment, he tossed the walkie-talkie back onto the bed and sulked over to join it. It wasn’t until a few minutes later after replaying his cousin’s autistically cryptic message and Val’s last plea to him did he wonder, “Who the fuck is Tina?”