As we stepped onto the moving stairs, the mallrats grew more frenzied, their shouts echoing off the high ceilings. "Gag me with a spoon, you're both gonna die up here!" "Like, oh my god, you're so dead!" "Totally tubular funeral, dudes!"

Fucking ridiculous beings, I thought, gritting my teeth, spouting their unintelligible nonsense…

The escalator carried us up to the next floor, where a horde of mallrats awaited, their eyes wild and teeth bared. They charged as soon as we stepped off, a wave of neon clothing and plastic flesh.

The fight was a blur of violence. I swung my nunchaku in wide arcs, the neon handles cutting through the air and leaving trails of light. The Radical Spin skill sent mallrats flying, their bodies crashing into storefronts and kiosks. Ben roared and slashed, his claws tearing through plastic skin and neon clothes, leaving piles of twisted, unmoving bodies in his wake.

At one point, a mallrat with a boombox for a head tried to blast us with a sonic boom, but I dodged just in time, using Electric Slide to leave damaging afterimages that fried his circuits. Ben pounced on another mallrat, this one with a mannequin's body and a cash register for a face, tearing it apart with a brutal efficiency.

But there were so many of the fuckers, and it wasn’t long before I’d taken a lot of damage, my Health Bar dropping below 50%. More pissed off than anything, I activated the Bulk Hogan Holder and went into full Hulk Up mode.

A surge of power coursed through my veins, and I felt my muscles swell, my strength increasing exponentially. My voice deepened, becoming more gravelly and authoritative, as if the spirit of every '80s wrestler had possessed me.

"Brother, it's time to run wild!" I roared, my eyes blazing with newfound intensity. I grabbed the nearest mallrat, a punk with a neon-blue mohawk, and lifted him high above my head. "You're about to feel the power of Kademania, dude!" With a mighty heave, I tossed him across the mall, his body crashing into a group of his friends, sending them all sprawling.

I turned to the next mallrat, a girl with a side ponytail and a shirt that read “Chose Life.” She lunged at me with a knife, but I caught her wrist mid-air, my grip like a vice. "Oh, no you don't, sister!" I growled, twisting her arm until she dropped the weapon. "It's time for a little attitude adjustment!" I slammed her into the ground, the force of the impact leaving a crater in the tile floor. “Chose that instead, bitch!”

Another mallrat, this one wearing a shirt that read "Save Ferris," tried to sneak up behind me with a makeshift spear. I spun around just in time, catching the spear in one hand and snapping it in half with a quick, powerful motion. “Here’s your day off!” I roared, delivering a pulverizing elbow strike to his face that sent him crumpling to the ground.

Ben fought beside me, his neon fur a blur of motion as he tore through the mallrats. But I was a force of nature, unstoppable in my Hulk Up mode. I grabbed a green mohawked mallrat and delivered a devastating headbutt that sent him reeling. "What'cha gonna do when Kadeamania runs wild on you, you fuckers?!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the mall.

I punched heads off shoulders, ripped off limbs, and tossed mallrats left and right like they were ragdolls. The added strength from the Bulk Hogan Holder made me feel invincible, and the wrestling catchphrases flowed from my lips like a battle hymn.

"Let me tell you something, brother!" I bellowed, grabbing a mallrat who had neon braces on his teeth and smashing him into the wall. "You're about to feel the power of the 24-inch pythons!" I flexed my arms, the neon yellow jockstrap glowing like a beacon of destruction.

The mallrats tried to overwhelm me, but I was a whirlwind of fury, my body fueled by the raw power of '80s wrestling. I countered their grapples with signature moves, suplexing one mallrat into another, and body-slamming a third into the ground with bone-crushing force.

"Oh yeah, brother!" I roared. "It's time to feel the pain!"

As the last of the mallrats fell, I stood there, panting and covered in gore, my Hulk Up mode slowly fading. My muscles returned to normal, and my voice lost its gravelly edge, but the carnage I'd left behind was magnificent. Even Ben was staring at me in awe, as if he couldn’t believe one person was capable of such rampant destruction.

“What?” I said, staring at him. “You think you’re the only one who can bring the pain? Nice job, by the way. These creepy fuckers got what they deserved. Fucking mallrats.”

Panting and covered in blood and neon-colored gore, we stepped onto the escalator leading to the top floor. The taunts and jeers had stopped, replaced by an ominous silence. The only sound was the eerie mall music, its upbeat tempo playing over the carnage we'd left behind.

On the way up the escalator, I took a Health Potion, restoring myself back to full health. My stamina levels were depleted as well, down near 10%, so I took a quick slug of whiskey from the bottle in my inventory and that soon sorted that out.

“All right, Ben old buddy,” I said, raring to go again. “Let’s take down this queen bitch so we can get the hell out of this fucking mall. And when we do, I pray to never see the inside of one again.”

As the escalator deposited us onto the third floor, an unsettling quiet enveloped us. The air hung heavy, thick with anticipation and the faint buzz of dying neon. We stepped into a vast department store, a fucked up monument to twisted consumerism.

Racks of decaying clothes stretched endlessly, mannequins posed in nightmarish tableaus. The stench of rot and something far more sinister assaulted my nostrils. I gripped my nunchaku, knuckles white, eyes darting to every shadow.

“Where is this bitch?” I whispered, as I prowled through the store with Ben just behind me.

Then a voice shattered the silence, dripping with malevolence and '80s slang. "Fresh meat in my kingdom? Totally radical. Welcome to the court of the Fashionista, bitches.”

She emerged from the gloom, a vision of horror. Her neon beehive hair writhed with dark energy, adorned with skulls and corroded jewelry. Her face was a mask of putrefaction, eyes blazing like infernal coals. Blood-stained tatters of a once-grand prom dress clung to her form, arms jangling with layers of ominous bracelets. In her grasp, giant scissors pulsed with eldritch power.

"You've like, totally wrecked my mall," she sneered. "Time to pay the piper… or get cut down to size!”

Ben's growl reverberated through my chest as I spat, "The only one getting cut is you, you fashion disaster."

Her laughter echoed through the store. "Big words, little man. Let's see you walk the walk!"

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

The scissors sliced the air, unleashing a wave of dark energy. I barely rolled clear, feeling it singe my hair as a clothing rack exploded behind me.

Then the battle erupted in earnest. The Fashionista moved with terrifying speed, her scissors a blur of lethal strikes. I weaved and dodged, my nunchaku a whirlwind of desperate defense. Ben charged into the fray, claws rending through waves of summoned mallrats.

I vaulted over a checkout counter, using it as cover from another energy blast. The store devolved into chaos—mannequins toppling, clothes racks scattering, glass shattering in a deadly rain.

Not wanting to be trapped behind the checkout counter, I ran around it just as another energy blast came my way. Instinctively, I dropped into a slide and barely managed to avoid getting decapitated by the giant scissors.

"Stand still, you gnarly pest!" the Fashionista shrieked, her attacks growing wilder now as her rage heightened.

In a moment of overconfidence, I attempted to close the distance. Too late, I saw the glint in her eyes. The scissors flashed, and white-hot agony exploded through my left hand. I screamed as three of my fingers sailed through the air, blood spraying in an arc.

"Not so tough now, are we?" she cackled, brandishing my severed digits like trophies.

I stumbled back, clutching my maimed hand, blood pouring from the stumps where my fingers used to be. The pain was excruciating, and my health and stamina bars were blinking red, dangerously low. The mallrats, sensing my weakness, swarmed in, their hands grabbing at me, restraining me despite my struggles.

Ben, seeing me in trouble, rushed to my aid, his neon fur bristling with rage. But as he charged, the Fashionista turned on him, her scissors flashing through the air. Time seemed to slow as the blades met Ben's neck, and with a sickening crunch, his head was severed from his body.

"NO!" I screamed, my voice raw with anguish as Ben's body crumpled to the ground, his neon fur fading to a dull gray. The Fashionista laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the store.

"Aww, how touching," she sneered, kicking Ben's lifeless body aside. "But it's time for you to join your little friend, don't you think?"

The mallrats, surrounding me now, began to strip me of my clothes, their hands tearing at my shirt and pants. I struggled, but my strength was waning, my body wracked with pain and exhaustion. They pinned me to the floor, holding me down as a girl mallrat, her eyes wild and lips smeared with shocking pink lipstick, straddled me.

"Get it hard for me, baby," she cooed, grinding against me. "I want to have your little mall babies."

“Yes,” the Fashionista spat, delighting in my suffering. “You’ll be our breeder now. You’ll help me replace all of the children you killed.”

The mallrat on top of me had pulled her skirt off now, revealing her hairless pussy that seemed as plastic as the rest of her, yet still dripping wet with a fluid the same color as her lipstick. As the others watched and cheered her on, she wrestled with my jockstrap, pulling it aside so she could get to the zip of my jeans. A second later, I felt her cold hand grab my cock and I couldn’t help but scream as the crazies surrounding me all laughed and jeered.

“Why aren’t you hard?” the mallrat on top of me shrieked. “Like, do I not turn you on, or what, dude?”

“You’re fucking disgusting!” I shouted.

“Then we’ll make disgusting little mall babies together!” She squeezed my cock, hard.

“Yeah, we’re gonna, like, drain you dry, kiddo,” said some other bitch.

The Fashionista, watching all of this, laughed uproariously, reveling in the sickness of her ‘children’.

Horrified beyond belief, I wrestled my uninjured hand free and grabbed a small Imp Bomb from my inventory. As the mallrat on top of me tried to stuff my flaccid cock inside her, I suddenly shoved the bomb inside her neon dripping vagina, pushing it up there as far as it would go, doubly horrified by the bitch’s squeal of twisted pleasure.

“Oh yeah, baby,” she moaned. “Get kinky with me you bad dude…”

Before the rest of the mallrats could work out what was going on, I took out the lighter and sparked it up, lighting the fuse that trailed from the crazy bitch’s pussy. “This kinky enough for you?” I snarled.

“Oh yeah, you bad boy, that’s—wait, what?”

Taking advantage of her surprise, I shoved the bitch off me and rolled away quickly. The mallrat exploded in a burst of gore and plastic that showered all those standing around. My bomb resistant denim jacket helped shield me from most of the blast, but it sent the other mallrats reeling, giving me the opening I needed. With a surge of adrenaline, I tore free from their grasp, now fueled by rage and desperation.

Despite the critical warning messages flashing on my screen about my health and stamina, I turned on the remaining mallrats, my vision red with fury. With my bare hands—or what was left of my injured left hand—I tore into them, my attacks wild and brutal. I snapped necks, gouged out eyes, and ripped limbs from sockets, leaving a trail of carnage in my wake. Their screams filled the air, a symphony of pain and terror that only served to fuel my rage.

As the last mallrat fell, I exhaustedly turned my gaze on the Fashionista. She stood there, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief, her scissors trembling in her hands. I stalked toward her, my body slick with blood and gore, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You're a monster," she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You slaughtered all of my children!”

I laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You and this place made me this way," I growled, suddenly fully aware that I was being watched by millions of viewers on TV, all probably on the edge of their seats wondering what I was going to do next.

If they wanted a show, I would give them a fucking show.

With a swift, brutal motion, I grabbed the scissors from her hands and tossed them aside. She tried to back away, but I caught her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with one hand. Her feet kicked wildly, her hands clawing at my arm, but I held her firm, a sinister smile spreading across my face.

"You wanted a fashion statement, bitch?" I snarled, my voice echoing through the store. "Let me show you the latest trend in mallrat couture."

With my free hand, I reached into my inventory and pulled out the can of spray acid I’d gotten from the Mall Cop. I shook it vigorously, the sound of the metal ball rattling inside filling the air. The Fashionista's eyes widened in terror as she realized what I was about to do.

"No, please, don't—" she begged, but her words were cut off as I pressed the nozzle and sprayed her entire face with the acid, which soon began to burn her skin and eyes, probably blinding her, going by her screams.

But I wasn't done yet. I tossed the spray can aside and grabbed a nearby mannequin, tearing off one of its plastic arms. With a savage roar, I plunged the makeshift stake into the Fashionista's chest, pinning her to the wall behind her. She screamed again, her body convulsing as black, putrid blood poured from the wound.

"And now, for the grand finale," I said, my voice filled with a manic glee. I reached into my inventory once more and pulled out the flare gun, which was already loaded with a single, incendiary round.

The Fashionista's blinded eyes widened in horror as she probably sensed something horrible was about to happen to her. "No, please, I beg you—" she pleaded, but her words were cut off as I pulled the trigger.

The flare streaked through the air, striking the Fashionista square in the chest. Her screams filled the store as her body was engulfed in flames, the fire spreading rapidly, consuming her in a blazing inferno. Her thrashing grew more frantic, her screams more desperate, until finally, with one last, agonized cry, she fell silent, her body reduced to a charred, smoldering husk.

I stood there, panting and covered in blood and gore, the flare gun still smoking in my hand as the fire began to spread throughout the store.

I turned to the camera I imagined was watching me, a wild, triumphant grin on my face as flames roared up behind me. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you finish a Fashionista," I said, my voice filled with a savage satisfaction.

Before the flames got too wild, I walked back to the Fashionista’s burning body and looted it. The only thing I got from it was—

“A fucking keytar? Seriously? What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing?”

Screw it, I would figure it out later. I tossed the musical instrument into my inventory and then walked over to Ben’s headless body, his massive head lying nearby. I stroked Ben’s severed head for a moment, the surrounding heat already beginning to singe his fur. “I’m sorry, Ben. Sorry for dragging you into this fucked up mall. You were a good friend, and I hope you get repurposed into something better.”

Knowing this place, however, I wasn’t holding my breath.

As I hit the ground floor of the mall, the flames were spreading rapidly behind me, consuming the mall and the bodies of the mallrats that were scattered all over the place.

A notification displayed on my screen as I walked toward the exit doors at the back.

Quest Complete! Rewards Gained!

But did you have to burn the place down? You know how much malls cost to build?

“Like I give a flying fuck,” I said, dismissing the notification.