Will read the scoreboard as he fumed. Each leaderboard appeared to score points for a different “mode”, and every leaderboard was topped by DIOGENES by a significant lead.

“Oh, my god, is that our—” Will attempted to say, before he was interrupted by a booming yell from distressingly close by.

“Hey, nerds!” Dio said, clapping Will on the back with the force of a goring bison. “How goes the investigation?”

Will turned, and was strangely horrified to find Dio nearly modestly-dressed in a white toga and a wreath of golden laurels sitting on his mossy head. A green scarf or some other scrap of fabric had been affixed over his eyes and tied behind the back of his head, which apparently didn’t hinder his ability to get around.

“Uh, fine, what’s with the,” Will paused to gesture vaguely at nothing in particular “outfit?”

Dio laughed, the deep kind of laugh someone who wasn’t really having much fun did to sound like they were. “Oh, you know, I just wanted to try something new. Something without any baggage. You know how it is.”

“Can you like, see?” Will asked.

“Not really!” Dio said. “It’s okay, though. I’ve got plenty of backup senses.”

“There’s a missing athlete,” Glory said, trying to refocus the conversation before it went further off the rails. “We need to enter the mansion and figure out what happened, and if we can get him out.”

“That’s not supposed to happen,” Dio said. “If you lose, you’re supposed to just be kicked out.”

“So, what if they haven’t lost?” Will suggested. “What happens if you just keep going? Does the mansion ever end?”

“No,” Dio said. “The whole thing is a series of rooms that rearrange themselves and their contents when nobody's looking. Theoretically, you could go forever, but there’s no food or water. Dying of starvation also counts as losing.”

“Are you the Diogenes on all the leaderboards?” Will asked.

“...Yes.” Dio said, as if he was deeply embarrassed to admit it. “Time attack, versus mode, survival, battle royale, solo runs…”

“I get it,” Will said. “You were really good at this. Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dio said, with uncharacteristic solemnity.

“Okay,” Will said, managing to resist the urge to question further. “What now?”

“Let’s go inside. Maybe the staff knows something we don’t.”

The mansion opened up into a large, well-lit foyer with a series of rooms open to viewing, as if the walls had been simply ripped up and upholstered over. Will saw a room with a series of cots lined with the resting bodies and restless souls of people who must have been inside the maze recently, along with a pub-like dining area, a crowded lounge, and something that looked like a cross between a blacksmith and a grocery store.

The set of doors directly opposite the front entrance appeared to lead further into the mansion.

“Welcome,” said a voice, “to Picard’s Mansion. Are you staying forever, or just visiting?”

The voice came from a pile of metal scraps that rearranged themselves into a hovering suit of armor. Instead of a weapon, he held a clipboard, and had a magnetic bow tie affixed to his chestplate, along with a nametag Will couldn’t quite make out.

Dio patted the animated armor on the head as if ruffling through someone’s hair. “Are you really still using that joke, Clyde? It’s been like twenty years.”

Clyde looked as surprised as a floating collection of rusting metal could look. “Diogenes!? Is that you?”

“Just Dio, for now,” Dio said, politely but tiredly, as if he expected to have this exchange a lot.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Clyde said, bowing slightly. “The facilities have changed since you last visited… would you care for an explanation?”

“Not right now, I think we can figure it out,” said Dio, waving the animated armor away.

“Okay, let’s get something to eat,” said Dio, pointing to the pub.

“Shouldn’t we just go in?” said Will. “I don’t see why—”

“Always eat before going into the mansion,” Dio said, voice and expression determined and sharp. “Never go in on an empty stomach. Trust me on this.”

“Okay, okay,” Will said. “You’re the expert. I trust you.”

“Good,” Dio said. “I hope they still have that surf-and-turf special.”

The pub, Godrick’s, was quiet. While many people were eating, they didn’t chat or rest, and simply ate as fast as possible.

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“Table for five, please,” Dio said, poking a service bell on the front podium as gently as possible.

Another animated suit of armor rose from behind the desk, with a different style of helmet, a differently-colored tie, and a nametag that read “Godrick.”

“Right away,” said Godrick, “do I know you from somewhere?”

“Probably,” Dio said evasively. “Can I get my usual table?”

“Of course,” Godrick said. “Right this way.”

“Godrick’s always been terrible with names and faces,” Dio said. Dio’s usual table was in the far corner of the room, with a pair of stained-glass windows letting in the afternoon light. “But he never forgets an order.”

Rex signed something dismissively.

“Only once, and that was because I bribed him.” Dio said. Rex blew a raspberry in response.

“How famous are you here?” Skullcrusher asked. He was turning over a flower in his paws that he’d swiped from somewhere. He seemed uncomfortable in a way Will couldn’t describe. “And how do I get that famous?”

“Very, and be very good at fighting in the mansion,” Dio said. “Everyone thinks you’ve just got to be strong, but you’ve got to be smart, too. You’ve got to be creative.”

“Do you have to be all at once? It’s a team game, yes?” Skullcrusher asked, crushing the flower between two claws.

“You’ve gotta be able to rely on teammates, but you’ve got to be able to go it alone, too, y’know?” Dio said, voice slowly swelling with pride. “I mean, my friends were great and all, but, you know, I wasn’t just the muscle. I’m not just muscle.”

“Your food,” said Godrick, setting down a tray loaded with various dishes.

“We didn’t order yet,” said Will.

“I know,” said Godrick, who explained this constantly. “We decided what you’d need when you entered the premises.”

“What if I change my mind?” Will asked.

“You won’t,” said Godrick. “You wanted prime rib with horseradish sauce, mashed sweet potatoes, and lemon-garlic green beans.”

Will stared at the plate, considering this. “Fuck you for being right,” he said, taking it.

“I get that a lot,” Godrick said tiredly.

The rest of the food was distributed wordlessly. Unlike most of the patrons, Dio ate slowly, taking his time. His meal was indeed surf and turf, with prawns roughly the size of bananas and a steak the size of a Wii console.

“Why does everyone eat so fast?” Will asked.

“They’re impatient,” Dio said, biting right through one of the shrimp’s shells. “They just want to eat and do a run until they die so they can eat again and do another run.”

“Isn’t that what we’re going to be doing?” Will asked.

“No, we’re gonna pace ourselves,” Dio said. “You get much better results if you take breaks. Quality over quantity, y’know?”

Will nodded. Something about the pub made him feel hesitant about making small talk, so he ate slowly in silence, savoring his food. It really was incredible.

After they ate, Dio led them to the main doorway into the mansion. A third suit of armor, with the same kind of tie and name tag appeared, blocking the entrance. “State your business,” he said, holding a gauntlet in a defensive pose.

“Survival,” Dio said. “Beginner.”

“Uh, are you sure?” the armor asked. “You know you only get half points in beginner.”

“That’s fine,” said Dio. “Thank you, Rodrick.”

“Of course,” the armor said, crumbling back into a pile of metal. “Please, go on in.”

The doors swung open, and then slammed shut behind the party once they entered. The darkness was slowly illuminated by purple-blue candlelight, giving the square room an eerie, haunting vibe. Bookshelves lined one wall, and fancy furniture was arranged like a lounge, with a grand piano in one corner of the room.

There was also a large cube of slime in the middle of the room, whose resemblance to any existing copyrighted monsters is purely coincidental. It jiggled menacingly as a pair of animated suits of armor, identical to the ones outside but wielding rusty, jagged weapons, advanced.

Glory appeared to intercept a massive axe cutting Virgil in half, the metal scraping against his wing with a terrible screech.

Rex grabbed the other suit of armor’s sword and bent it in half like a paperclip, to which the armor responded by simply socking him in the jaw.

Skullcrusher pulled a glass jar of unidentifiable muck from his pack and threw it at the cube, which stuck harmlessly into it without breaking. “Rats,” he said under his breath, searching his bag for something more likely to break.

Will ignored all of this and immediately went to the bookshelf, struggling to scan the titles in the weak firelight.

“Do you really have to investigate that right now?” asked Dio as he cleaved a quivering lime-green cube of slime into two equally-sized quivering lime-green irregular polygons of slime.

“You said the rooms reset when nobody’s looking, so yes, actually,” Will said, grabbing a book from the bookshelf.

“War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy,” Will said, as if that meant anything to anyone but him here. “This is a book from earth.”

“What’s it about?”

“A lot of things, including war, and peace,” Will said, flicking the book open. The pages were blank. “Except this copy. It’s empty.”

Will put the book back where he had found it, and took another from the shelf. “Neuromancer, by William Gibson,” he said, opening it.

“The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel.The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel,” Will paused, putting the book down. “Why does this one have writing but the other doesn’t?”

“You’ve read Neuromancer,” Glory said as he was grappled by an animated suit of armor futilely trying to strangle a being with no neck. “But you haven’t read War and Peace.”

Virgil lept an impressive distance up to a high shelf, pulling a massive tome out. “Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand,” he said, cracking it open. “Have you read this one?”

“God, no way,” Will said, his tone laced with self-righteous pride. He put Neuromancer back on the shelf.

“Well it’s not empty,” Virgil said, tossing the book to Will who caught it with both hands. Sure enough, it was written in.

Will dropped the book to the floor. “Weird,” he said. “Really weird.”