I felt like a prisoner on death row while I walked beside Zara as she led me to the studio. When I reached it, I heard the sound of many voices mumbling and I looked and saw the audience all sitting facing the front of the studio. There were a few hundred ‘people’ there at least, some who looked human—or a variation of human—and others who looked utterly alien and not human at all. But they all had a look of anticipation on their faces, as if they couldn’t wait for the show to continue and the next guest to arrive.

The studio itself was nothing out of the ordinary. It was like every other TV studio I’d seen back on Earth, only the cameras and other equipment looked a bit more high-tech. The focus of the studio was on two large, red chairs. Each chair had a table beside it, with what looked like a jug of water and a single glass. In the right wing of the studio was a large screen, about the size of a small cinema screen. It was currently running clips from what I assumed was the Trials of the Damned, mostly showing various players dying in grizzly, blood-soaked ways. There was no sound, which somehow made the death and violence even more disturbing.

“Where’s the host?” I whispered to Zara.

But before she could even answer, a hush fell over the audience, and the atmosphere in the studio shifted dramatically. The air seemed to grow colder, and a sense of dread and fear permeated the room. I heard a heavy, rhythmic thudding sound, like massive footsteps approaching. Then, from the shadows of the left wing, a monstrous figure emerged.

The demon was a towering beast, standing at least nine feet tall. His skin was as dark as obsidian, and it seemed to absorb the light around him, creating an eerie, shadowy aura. His most striking feature was the single, large eye in the center of his head, which glowed like a malevolent sun, casting a baleful gaze across the audience. His head was adorned with a crown of horns, each one a twisted and gnarled spike. His mouth was a wide, lipless gash filled with rows of sharp, jagged teeth that seemed to drip with saliva.

He had four muscular arms, each ending in hands with elongated fingers tipped with razor-sharp talons. His upper body was bare, revealing a muscular torso crisscrossed with scars. His lower body was clad in what appeared to be tattered, black leather pants, but the most disturbing aspect was the massive, serpentine appendage that protruded from his groin. It seemed to move with a life of its own, writhing and twisting like a snake ready to strike.

Behind him, a pair of leathery, bat-like wings unfurled, their span easily reaching across the stage. They flapped lazily, stirring up a cold wind that carried with it the scent of sulfur and decay. The demon's presence was overwhelming, a palpable force that seemed to crush the air from my lungs.

Fucking pornstar Sauron over here, I thought uneasily.

As the demon stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted into a frenzy of cheers, screams, and chants. Some of the more alien-looking creatures made sounds that were utterly inhuman, adding to the cacophony. The demon raised two of his arms, acknowledging the crowd, and the cheers grew even louder.

“I’m guessing that’s Azazel Flameborne,” I said to Zara, swallowing hard at the demon’s appearance.

“That’s him,” Zara said. “He’s every bit as scary as he looks. Even that brute Savage cowed to him eventually.”

In what felt like a mere second later, the audience fell into a hush and Azazel started speaking into the camera in a voice that was smoother than I expected.

“Now it is time to welcome our next guest on to the show,” he said, sitting comfortably in his chair. “This player has captured the attention of us all with his daring exploits, his unexpected survival, and, dare I say, his rebellious streak that has left many of our viewers on the edge of their seats. Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed entities from across the cosmos, allow me to introduce Kade Dalton—our very own gladiator in this grand cosmic circus!"

The audience erupted once more, the roar of cheers and inhuman screeches filling the air as I stood frozen for a moment, unsure of how to react. My stomach twisted, the sensation of being watched by so many eager, bloodthirsty eyes making me nauseous. Zara nudged me gently forward, her face showing a brief hint of sympathy before returning to her professional neutrality.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way across the studio floor as the audience erupted into cheers and clapping. I forced a smile and did a stupid little wave as I walked toward the empty chair waiting for me.

Azazel stood up to greet me, his mouth twisted into a grin as he outstretched one of his four arms. Doing my best to appear relaxed, I gripped the show host’s hand and shook it, his grip nearly crushing my fingers as I tried not to pay any attention to the appendage between his legs, which appeared to be raising itself up like a cobra to check me out.

“Kade Dalton,” Azazel greeted me. “Welcome to the show. Please, have a seat.”

As the audience quieted down, I took my seat next to Azazel, who stared at me with his blazing eye for a moment, that twisted grin still on his face.

“So, Kade,” he began, when the studio had fallen silent. “Are you surprised to find yourself here tonight? By the look on your face, you seem to be.” He chuckled slightly, and the audience responded by doing the same.

"Eh, well, Azazel—” I paused to nervously clear my throat, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "I guess you could say I’m a little surprised. You know, I kinda thought the only way I’d ever end up on a talk show was as a warning to others. ‘Don’t be like this guy.’”

The audience burst into laughter, the tension in the room easing a bit as I flashed an awkward grin.

Azazel leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Well, Kade, you’ve certainly given us a lot to talk about—but I think you’ve surpassed ‘warning’ and moved into ‘entertainment.’”

The audience laughed again, and I allowed myself to relax just a little more. “As I said to my guide, Grik’noth, when I first came here—I’ll strive to be the Tom Cruise of Infernum. Whether I’ve achieved that or not, I don’t know. It’s certainly a ‘mission impossible’, if you get my meaning.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

My laughter was met with silence from Azazel and the audience. Sweat ran down my face, mingling with the dried blood there, which I heard dripping on to the chair.

Then Azazel started howling with laughter, which started the audience of as well.

“The Tom Cruise of Infernum, folks!” he said. “We all love Tom Cruise, don’t we?”

“Yes!” the audience cried in unison.

“Actually, Kade, it might interest you to know that the man himself is currently on ice in the Pit of Pending Perdition,” Azazel informed me. “I believe Infernova has big plans for his coming out.”

“Well, Azazel, I’m sure he’ll be ‘top gun’ when he does get out.”

The audience roared with laughter again, and I smiled smugly and relaxed a little more into my seat, even taking a sip of water.

“You know how much we love Earth’s culture here in this great galaxy of ours, Kade,” Azazel said. “Especially the 1980’s culture. We thank the Overseers everyday for creating beings that were able to birth such a deep and profoundly meaningful culture.”

“Hmm, why is that, anyway?” I suddenly asked. “Why the big obsession?”

The audience fell silent again, but this time I felt their ire directed at me, and I knew I’d spoken out of turn.

Azazel’s grin widened, his single eye narrowing slightly as the tension in the room shifted. The lightheartedness of moments before was gone, replaced by an uncomfortable stillness that settled over the studio like a heavy blanket. The audience was silent now, staring at me as if I’d crossed an invisible line.

Azazel tapped his fingers on the armrest, his claws making a soft clicking sound that reverberated through the silence. “Why, Kade,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with something darker, “that’s an interesting question. One that most contestants never think to ask.”

I swallowed hard, regretting my impulsive curiosity. The smile I’d forced onto my face felt brittle, but I couldn’t let my unease show. “Yeah, just curious,” I mumbled, my voice sounding smaller than I’d intended.

Azazel’s grin remained fixed, but the intensity in his gaze grew sharper. “You see, Kade,” he began, “there’s something… special about Earth’s culture. It’s unpredictable, messy, chaotic—just like your people. And chaos, well, chaos is endlessly entertaining.” He leaned in slightly, his massive figure casting a shadow over me. “But more than that, it feeds something deep in the Overseers. Your nostalgia, your pop culture, your constant need to look back and relive the ‘good times’—it’s pure, unfiltered sustenance for them.”

The audience remained silent, their collective gaze fixed on me, as if waiting for my reaction. I felt like a bug under a microscope, being studied and dissected.

Azazel’s voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial. “You should feel honored, Kade. The Overseers see potential in humans. They adore the way you cling to your little relics of the past, the way you worship at the altar of your pop icons, your movies, your music. It makes you... pliable.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, feeling the weight of his words. “Pliable?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “You mean, like... easy to manipulate?”

Azazel’s grin widened further, his jagged teeth glistening under the studio lights. “You could say that,” he replied. “Humans are driven by nostalgia, by memories of a simpler time. It makes you yearn for something familiar, even in a place as foreign as Infernum. It keeps you distracted.”

“But… isn’t all this… just a distraction as well?” I said in a quiet voice, my stomach tensing as I said it. “I mean, it seems to me like y’all are using the exact same methods to distract the good people of this galaxy. You’re even repurposing our culture—Earth’s culture—to do it.”

Shocked murmurs went through the crowd as Azazel leaned in close to me. “It seems you fancy yourself as a bit of rebel, Kade, is that right?”

Azazel’s sentient cock had risen up and appeared to be staring at me as well, its slit like a judging eye. “I just tell it like I see it,” I said carefully, fearing Azazel was about to kill me on live TV.

That single eye seemed to bore into me for an eternity before Azazel finally laughed and looked at the audience. “We have ourselves a rebel, folks!” he declared. “But that’s why we like him, is it not?”

The audience cheered and I sank deeper into my seat, praying the interview would be over soon.

“Alright, Kade,” Azazel said, turning to face the screen to the side of him. “Let’s look at some of your highlights from the Trials, shall we?”

Up on the screen, I saw myself fighting against the Glitch Goblins when I went full Hulk-Up on them. It was the first time I’d really saw myself since being brought to Infernum, and I cringed at the sight, especially at the neon yellow jockstrap. The sound from the footage was loud, and all I heard was me shouting corny 80s wrestling catchphrases as I decimated the Glitch Goblins. Then the footage changed to the mall, and once again I saw myself in Hulk-Up mode, barking catchphrases as I tore into the Mallrats.

The audience seemed to love this, some of them even shouting the catchphrases as I said them on screen.

“Kademania, folks!” Azazel said, then turned to me. “Let’s hear you say it, Kade.”

Chrissakes…

Clearing my throat, I looked out at the audience, then barked out: “Whatcha gonna do when Kadeamania runs wild on you?!”

I even stood up at that point and raised my arms up like a real wrestler, which sent the audience wild, some of them standing up and clapping and wooing.

“There’s that Kademania!” Azazel declared.

Fuck me, this is crazy. Get me out of here…

Sitting back down, I sipped on the water as I suddenly saw footage of Annalise and Snuggles up on the screen, which made me choke on the water.

Azazel looked at me, a sly smile on his twisted mouth. “Now, Kade, let’s talk about your friends, shall we?”

I took the glass from my lips and carefully sat it back on the table, clearing my throat. “What about them?” I said, shifting in my seat.

“Well, you seem quite loyal to them, don’t you. You risked your life to save Annalise from Herbie Floss, didn’t you?”

At the mention of Floss’ name, the audience booed.

“What was I supposed to do?” I said. “I had to save her.”

“Yes, and now you’re doing the same thing again to save Annalise and Snuggles this time.” Azazel looked at the audience, then back to me. “But we all know that if you do that, you’ll miss the Second Trial and forfeit yourself from the game, Kade. Why would you do such a thing?” He looked at the audience again. “No one wants to see Kade forfeited, do they?”

“Nooo!” the audience shouted.

“You still have time, Kade,” Azazel said. “Now that you know what a star you’ve become, doesn’t it make sense to reach the Second Trial instead of trying to save people who aren’t really your friends?”

“Who says they aren’t really my friends?” I shot back, a little more harshly than I intended, but I was tiring of the whole interview now, and I just wanted to go back to Infernum to save the two people this demon fuck was calling otherwise. “Do you even know what a friend is, Azazel?”

The demon’s eye flared with rage for a second, and I thought he was gong to rip me apart right there and then.

But he smiled instead, though there was no warmth in it whatsoever.

“Alright, Kade,” he said evenly. “We have a little surprise for you.”

“Surprise?” I said blankly.

Another chair was brought out by two studio gaffers and placed next to mine.

What the hell is this? I thought I was the last guest.

Azazel addressed the audience. “We’ve all met the hero of this story,” he said, seeming to relish my discomfort as he glanced wickedly down at me. “Now let’s meet… the villain!”

Villain? What the fuck?

“Herbie Floss, come on out here!”

You. Fucking. Bastards.