I’m no stranger to confrontation. In fact, at this stage, I’m pretty comfortable with it. Wasn’t always that way, mind. When I was younger, I was always afraid of confrontation, especially the violent sort, and I always did my best to avoid it. But in doing so, I felt weak. My dad would work the doors at weekends, in some of the shittier bars and nightclubs around the city, to earn some extra money, as we weren’t a particularly well off family. My dad never seemed to be afraid of confrontation in the slightest. I watched him work a few times when I was old enough to get into the bars. I would sit in the corner with my friends and watch my dad stand up to guys twice his size, not a trace of fear, and then promptly dump those guys out on their ass. Or put them on their ass if they were dumb enough to have a go at him.

I wanted that same level of confidence that my dad had, so even though I’d been doing martial arts for years—jujitsu, mostly, though Japanese, not Brazilian—I got into competitive fighting as well. Kickboxing matches in the beginning, then onto MMA fights. In between, I worked the doors at weekends, often with my dad. All that helped me get over my fear of confrontation. Maybe ‘get over’ is the wrong choice of words. It helped me ‘manage’ confrontations, so even though I was still afraid, I learned through experience how to manage that fear.

All of this is to say that I shouldn’t have minded strolling inside that big top and confronting Herbie Floss, the Cotton Candy Killer. But the fact was, this guy was no ordinary Joe. He was a full blown serial killer before he landed in Infernum. Fuck knows how many people he’d killed since his stint here began. So in this case, my normally manageable fear had become unmanageable terror at the thought of confronting this sick fuck. Sure as shit, he wouldn’t be afraid of me in the slightest.

What I needed was some kind of plan that gave me the advantage over a guy like that, which in this place, wouldn’t be easy to come by. This was Floss’ home turf, after all. And fuck knows how strong he’d turn out to be when I finally challenged him.

Then there was Annalise, which made matters even more complicated. How to take down Floss without Annalise getting hurt or dying in the process? I could live with her getting hurt. That’s what the Health Potions were for. But not dying. A psycho like Floss would kill Annalise just out of spite if I showed up to spoil his little party.

Cursing my new existence for the umpteenth time, I crept up to the big top. The massive structure loomed before me, its once-vibrant red and white stripes now faded to sickly shades of rust and bone. The fabric seemed to writhe and pulse as if alive, and ghostly whispers echoed from within. The entrance gaped like a maw, tattered curtains fluttering, even though there was no breeze.

As I approached, voices drifted out from inside. A man’s voice, cheerful yet chilling, rang out clearly.

“Golly gee, little lady, you sure are a feisty one! But don’t you worry your pretty little head. We’re gonna have a swell time, you and me. It’ll be the bee’s knees!”

The voice was followed by a strange thud, like something hitting wood. Then came Annalise’s voice, defiant and angry. “Go fuck yourself, you psychotic piece of shit!”

I inched closer, my heart pounding. Carefully, I peeked inside the big top. The scene that greeted me made my blood run cold.

Annalise was strapped to a large wooden wheel, like something out of a twisted knife-throwing act. Various knives surrounded her, some embedded in the wood mere inches from her body. Floss stood a few yards away, another knife in hand.

Floss himself was a sight to behold. He wore a candy-striped shirt and bow tie, but his skin had an unnatural, sugary sheen to it. His hair looked like spun sugar, and his smile was far too wide, revealing teeth that seemed sharp as razors.

Herbert “Herbie” Floss - The Cotton Candy Killer

Level 43 (Yes, we’re terrified too.)

A walking, talking nightmare in a candy-striped shirt. Floss combines the worst aspects of a 1950s TV dad, a deranged carnival worker, and a psychopathic pastry chef. His skin has a disturbing sugary sheen, and his hair looks like it’s made of spun sugar. Do NOT touch it. We repeat, do NOT touch it.

Level 43! There’s no way I can take this fucking guy! Shit!

“Now, now, missy,” Floss chided, wagging a finger at Annalise. “That kind of language isn’t becoming of a lady. Let’s try to keep things wholesome, shall we?”

With a flick of his wrist, he sent the knife spinning through the air. It thudded into the wood between Annalise’s legs, so close to her groin I thought she’d been stabbed there. She flinched but kept her glare steady. Damn, she was stronger than I thought. A knife that close would’ve made a lesser person piss themselves.

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“You know,” Floss continued, his voice dripping with false sweetness, “I’ve been doing this for a long, long time. But it never gets old. The fear, the anticipation... it’s sweeter than any cotton candy I’ve ever tasted.” He reached for another knife, his movements graceful and practiced. “And when we’re done with our little show here, oh boy, are we gonna have a treat. I’ve got my machine all warmed up and ready to go. It’s gonna be the cat’s pajamas!”

The casual way he spoke about his horrific acts sickened me. This wasn’t just a killer—this was a monster who reveled in his cruelty, who had honed his sadism over decades in this blood circus.

I gripped the knitting needle I’d brought out, which was now at level 2 thanks to my recent stabbing antics. Despite this, the weapon still seemed completely and utterly inadequate for use against someone of Floss’ insanely high level. But I had to do fucking something, or Annalise was going to die. And the more I stalled, the less time we would have to get to the Trial, assuming we both survived that long.

Swiveling away from the tent, I closed my eyes and thought for a moment. With a stronger opponent, you don’t want to go steaming in. Better to catch them off guard somehow, then make your move. Of course, that’s still no guarantee of success, but it was better than charging headfirst into the jaws of death. Or in this case, diving headfirst into the evil candy floss.

Hurrying away from the tent, I rushed to find Snuggles. He was over by the dilapidated carousel, holding court with his motley crew of plush minions. The once-cheerful ride now stood as a grotesque parody of itself, its painted horses bearing expressions of terror, their eyes seeming to follow me as I approached.

Snuggles lounged on the back of a particularly nightmarish unicorn, its horn bent at an unnatural angle. Around him, a variety of stuffed animals were arranged in a semicircle, like some twisted teddy bear’s picnic. Among them was a one-eyed giraffe with a noose for a neck, a rabbit with razor-sharp teeth peeking out from under its floppy ears, and what looked like a bear that had been turned inside out, its stuffing on the outside and its fur lining its visible innards.

As I got closer, I could hear Snuggles regaling his troops with a story, his gravelly voice carrying on the stagnant air.

“...and that’s when I said, ‘Listen here, you overgrown dust bunny, I may be small, but I’m all killer, no filler!’” The plushies erupted in squeaky laughter, some of them literally falling apart at the seams.

Snuggles spotted me approaching and stared like something was wrong. “You don’t look like someone who’s tangoed with the Candy Floss Killer and won. You chicken out or something?” The other plushies turned to stare at me, their button eyes glinting with curiosity and barely concealed malice.

“Chicken out? You didn’t tell me that crazy bastard is Level 43!”

“Oh, didn’t I? Must’ve slipped my mind.” The other plushies laughed softly at this.

“Jesus, you need me to walk outta here, you dumb shit. If I die, you’re not going anywhere.”

“I know that, genius. But I didn’t want to scare you by telling you how powerful Floss is.”

“So you were just gonna let me walk in there and get killed?”

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Or the last!” the bunny squeaked, and they all laughed.

“I’m glad you all find this amusing,” I said.

“You think you’re the first player I’ve asked to take me away from this place?” Snuggles said. “You’d be surprised how many people wander in here. None of them ever wander out again, though.”

“Well, I’ll be wandering out with Annalise, and you’re gonna help me. You and your little gang here. That is, if you don’t want to be stuck here for the rest of your existence.”

“I’m not actually stuck,” Snuggles said. “None of us our. We can go anytime we want. It’s just safer in here for us.”

“Safer? With that insane Floss guy hanging around killing people?”

“He doesn’t bother us,” the giraffe pointed out.

“Yeah, we’re not his type,” the bear said.

“Only thing is, none of us can escape these cuddly forms,” Snuggles said. “But if we become players again, even as pets, we can level up.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m adopting all of you as pets,” I said.

“Why not? We’d be useful to you. Better than being on your own.”

I shook my head at the thought of having a whole gang of mouthy plushies trailing along behind me throughout the game. “I can’t think about this right now. I just want to save Annalise from that fuzzy-headed freak. Do any of you know where he keeps that infernal candy floss machine of his?”

“Sure,” Snuggles said. “He keeps it in the big top. Why?”

“Because I’m gonna blow it up.”

They all stared at me like I was crazy. “And how will you do that?” Snuggled asked.

“With a bomb,” I said. “And you lot are gonna help me.”

“Screw that,” the bunny squeaked. “If we do that then Floss won’t let us stay here anymore. He’ll kill us!”

“You won’t have to stay if I take you all with me,” I said, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

The plushies seemed reticent, probably too used to their circumstances to want change. But Snuggles turned to them. “Look, gang. We been here too damn long. It’s time we left this place, leave Floss to his dirty business.”

“But he’ll come after us,” a badger plushie with glowing red eyes said in a gruff voice. “You know he can move this fairground to wherever he wants.”

“True,” Snuggles said. “But I’d rather take my chances out there than spend another minute in this place with that psycho. Besides, once Kade adopts us as pets, we can level up again. We can protect ourselves.”

“I don’t know,” the bunny said. “I’m not sure I wanna go out there again.”

“That’s up to you guys,” Snuggles said. “But I’m helping Kade, and then I’m getting outta here. You decide if you’re coming with me or not.” He turned to face me, chest out. “Kade, what do you need me to do?”

“I just need you to show me exactly where that machine is,” I said. “Then I need you to distract Floss while I get into position.”

“Distract him how?”

“Whatever way you want.”

“Alright,” Snuggles said. “Let’s do this so I can finally get out of this carnival of misery.”

He hopped down off the carousel and started walking with me toward the big top. Glancing behind me, I saw the other plushies remain where they were, staring after us, as if they knew we were heading right to our death.