By now, Hiro knew that the Doom System was capable of sheer cruelty and madness. It was able to defy laws of physics, and it had no problem changing the rules as it saw fit. But this, this was too much.

“Monica?” Hiro said as he stepped into a dark arena, a single spotlight shining onto a beast in its center. At least the top half was the Monica that he lived with in the New York subway system at the start of this madness, the one who had taught him to pick locks, who had been his companion.

The bottom half was something else entirely.

Monica’s torso was grafted onto the back of a sinewy bear covered in pulsing neon blue veins bright enough to create a sickening aura. She wore medieval armor, which like Masakado’s samurai gear, was arranged in layers. In her hands were a pair of steel construction beams, the ends of which had been sharpened. She was much stronger than the Monica that Hiro once knew, the woman easily able to hold the construction beams like they were a pair of short batons.

“Hiro?” Monica asked, her voice quivering. “Is that… you? Take off your mask. Let me see your face.”

The boss description came whether Hiro wanted to read it or not.

Description: The Imp of the Perverse is a story by Edgar Allen Poe about our compulsion to act against our own self-interest which later inspired Temu’s European campaign and it’s slogan ‘I like it. It’s mine. The prices blow my mind. Shop like a billionaire with Temu.’

What Temu failed to explain is that a billionaire doesn’t shop like a simp. They don’t shop like you. A billionaire shops with power, and the more they gain, the more things turn into a Diddy freak off sans the lube.

But let’s not let this description fall to the gutter.

Think of it like this.

In a way, your sweet, sweet Monica is like a missing painting. There really is no difference between her and Gogh’s Portrait of Dr. Gachet; Renoir’s Ball of the Moulin de la Galette; Ruben’s Massacre of the Innocent; or Picasso’s Boy with a Pipe. She belongs to something else entirely now, hidden away, yet she is still your sweet, sweet Monica.

And now, Survivor, you have a choice: Marry, Fuck, Kill.

Which will it be?

“Fuck you,” Hiro said, not to Monica, but to the Doom System. “Fuck you for doing this.”

The Doom System’s actual voice spoke this time:

[Marry, Fuck, Kill? Which will it be, Survivor? Would you prefer I choose?]

“Kill.” Hiro drew his huge odachi out of thin air as red balloons fell from the ceiling.

There had to be hundreds of them, the red balloons suddenly obscuring Monica’s movements as she charged toward him. As the balloons fell and it was clear that the bear Monica was attached to was controlling her in some way. At least he assumed this was the case until she swung at him with one of her sharpened steel beams.

He dove to avoid her attack and swiped at her with his enormous blade, only to cut through balloons that popped, releasing pungent smells and a yellow mist—an aroma that could only be described as the aftermath of a terror attack on Coachella’s porta potty zone.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

Hiro started to gag beneath his mask. He brought his arm up to his mouth as he tried to track her movement through the field of red balloons. More fell, an impossible number, which gave the entire scene an almost whimsical appeal.

But it was anything but that, especially as Monica came in again and slammed both steel beams onto the ground just as Hiro’s phantom cats took off.

Now in control again, or at least as in control as he was going to be, Hiro cast Kiss or Slap.

Kiss or Slap? Kiss!

He thought about hitting Monica with Edging, but it was clear as he caught sight of her red, now demonic eyes, that pushing her over the top wasn’t going to be an option here.

He swallowed a newfound hatred for the Doom System as he used his massive odachi to cut away more of the red balloons, which deepened the foul stench in the air.

Her eyes, maybe?

Pew! Pew!

Hiro hit Monica with his Finger Guns as he slipped the odachi back into its pocket of reality and grabbed the fuzzy pink shield and his katana. Now feeling more mobile, Hiro followed the last of his demon cats through the balloons, which had completely covered Monica by this point that all he could hear now was her wailing as the cats scratched and bit at her.

That part made it hard.

Yet there was something almost metallic about it, non-human, like it had been recorded and was being played out of shitty speakers. Even with the red balloons, the foul stench, the fact Monica kept beating her steel beams against the ground—Hiro knew that it wasn’t her.

The Doom System is fucking with me yet again, he reminded himself as he finally reached her. Hiro redistributed the power from her incoming attack with {Refund}. This took a surprisingly large cut from Monica’s health bar, the attack staggering the woman.

He followed this up with several rounds of {Blade Whirlwind}, clenching his teeth as he did so, hating every minute of it. What about {Lupine Shift}? he thought. Yet he couldn’t shake this itching feeling that she would have a second form, and he didn’t want to do something like tear into Monica or her bear form and eat her, which would happen if he became a werewolf.

That would be too much.

Truth be told, all of this was too much.

Hiro got behind his fuzzy pink shield as it released tentacles forward, cutting away some of the red balloons. Monica bound toward him and he dove to avoid her, Hiro shifting his shield just in time to protect himself from the steel beam.

He returned his shield to his back and went for his vape pen, which he had loaded with a Corruption cartridge.

With a deep breath out, Hiro spewed a cloud of brass-colored smoke that engulfed Monica. He slipped away as she started to cough.

“What did you do to me?” she asked, looking down at her arms. “Hiro, how could you?”

Yet by this point, Hiro’s eyes were now on her health bar, which had started to fall, his hands busy loading the Bleed cartridge in. He hated to use two cartridges on one boss battle, but this was exactly that, a boss battle, one meant to break him, a special challenge, and he needed to finish it before Monica got the upper hand.

With this in mind, Hiro took a big puff from his vape and released a cloud of red smoke in her direction. He sent his sword away and drew his odachi out of thin air, figuring he’d try something.

The swell of power that {Blade Whirlwind} created cut through more of the balloons, releasing their foul stench. Yet it also took Monica’s health bar down below fifty percent.

Hiro was prepared for a second form. He’d dealt with enough of the Doom System’s shit now to know that something like this would happen.

Yet he wasn’t prepared for the balloons to all pop at once and for the yellow mist they released to rush into Monica’s open mouth, filling her lungs to the point that her body swelled and her armor popped off, creating projectiles.

His duct-taped armor offered some protection, but the sharp projectiles easily shredded his clothing, covering his body with lashes.

Lashes that stung.

The mist she released wasn’t only foul-smelling, it also was infectious, Hiro instantly noticing this as the wounds pulsed and turned yellow, his energy levels waning.

Now, he thought as he mentally triggered {Lupine Shift}. Now!