In the beginning, there was light.

There was also screaming. A lot of screaming.

As the creature slowly stalked forward into the room, Jordan screeched. A golden crown of twisted braided hair sat between twin obsidian horns spiraling along the sides of the creature’s head, but its eyes— its eyes were molten cores smoldering within blazing coal. Black with red pupils boring into him, making him incoherent as they ignited a primal part of his brain in absolute terror. Fear babbled in Jordan’s mind as they both shrieked, holding each other.

Looking within those eyes was like looking upon unspeakable truth, an instinctual knowledge gained from conception itself. This was not a person; this was not human. Those awful, baleful black eyes were a portal to an endless hell that called out for his damnation and he responded with wailing dread as his soul cried out under the gaze of an eternity of perdition.

If being scared of such a creature wasn’t bad enough, Jordan’s shrill screaming was coming out just like that of a girl’s. In response, Disgust started screaming at him, demanding self-reprisal and penitence, apparently defending the notion of feminism. But that would have to come later, if later would come at all. He should be damn well happy he wasn’t wetting himself—such was the mortal terror eliciting horror within him.

In the light of the room, cast by the horrid creature, Jordan struggled violently to escape his fluffy prison. Legs flailed as the cover stubbornly affixed to him, and his hands clawed at the blankets to get them off. All he managed to do was to disturb more of the large mound of pillows next to him, causing a small avalanche that threatened to entomb him.

To hell with it! A roar of something in his mind. A dark shape, crushed to the mental floor moments earlier, rose in a challenge.

Jordan grabbed at the pillow-slide and began to hurl the offensive bedroom accents at the approaching monster. It clearly didn’t expect its weakened prey to struggle with such loud desperation, and the horned creature ducked and wove around Jordan’s errant throwing. His aim was terrible, and the creature, once it shook off its startlement at Jordan’s reactions, easily avoided the floof-filled projectiles with unearthly grace. It resumed its slow approach with arms raised, outstretched towards him.

Something truly primal in Jordan snapped, causing the animal in his brain to recoil in shock at Jordan’s instinctual actions, and all semblance of composure went out the window. This should have been the time when Jordan rallied his senses, grabbed at the bravery inside his heart and fought with determination and honor.

Instead, he screamed like a girl, cried and went absolutely apeshit flailing on the bed as Fear took over, dominating all other processes in his mind.

The covers exploded in a volcanic eruption, pillows falling about like chunks of rock and lava. The shrill sounding noises from Jordan reached thunderous octaves that shouldn’t have been physically possible for a man his size and age, but he was too busy incoherently calling out for someone or something to save him. Yet if anything, his cries spurred the horned monster in front of him to push towards him even faster. Was it concerned its prey would die of shock?

It didn’t matter though. This couldn’t be happening! Was he really going to die here losing his shit like a damn coward? This was unacceptable! Disgust tried to tear Fear away from the helm, but as they fought for control, something primal took over. Once more at the forefront, everything fell apart instantly.

His wailing cries turned into a spastic series of sobs, before a lone, mournful cry came from him. If the previous high pitched noises didn’t seem physically possible, then this noise put them to shame. His brain was shutting down and he was moaning out like a dying beast caught in a trap. The animal in his brain was hissing incoherently, almost in outrage as Sorrow unexpectedly took over. They were almost as shocked as the animal, and with nothing much else to do, they sadly declared that this was the end, and announced an unconditional surrender.

But… shouldn’t he be fighting? Shouldn’t he struggle? He’d promised—

What was the point though? The creature was right there, next to him now. He feebly threw one last pillow, but it didn’t even make it past the bed. His hands were too weak to even grip the next pillow and he wasn’t able to lift his legs anymore as he’d hopelessly tangled himself in the bed’s sheets. Give up.

Even if he wanted to fight, he had exhausted what limited strength he had, his body was still far from recovered from the effects of the malady afflicting him. Give up. His head fell back limply and he could only wait for the creature to get close enough to meet its eyes once more. Those eyes. Those damning eyes. He sobbed, clenched up like a rabbit waiting in the jaws of the tiger for the inevitable crunch. You deserve to die.

The creature moved with a seductive grace, curiosity and concern painting a wary expression on its monstrous features as it paused by the bed. Jordan laid still, breathing rapidly, helpless before his killer. Why was it stalling now that it was so close? Maybe it thought he was feigning? If only that was the case, but all Jordan could do was lose himself to his inwardly directed Rage. Literally, the dark shape flew inward, resting traitorously now beside the darkness of Sorrow as Jordan watched uncomprehending.

Why had he lost control and acted like a damn child? Screaming like a girl. Now he’d die like one. Weak and sobbing, whimpering like a kid waiting for mommy and daddy to rush in and tell him it would be alright. Disgust stared at him judgingly.

A part of him knew he deserved this. It had been so easy to believe he could have lived and died like a real man when there was strength enough to do something in his life. So easy to judge others and criticize their trials and choices. He really did deserve this, didn’t he? Sorrow thought so.

In his mind bits and pieces of a familiar poem came to him.

Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

He’d read that poem at his father’s funeral before walking out, one last spiteful measure against the man he loved most in the world because he was disappointed in him. He’d cursed his father for giving up, taking the easy way out. Said he should have fought harder, tried harder, as though Jordan was an ideal example. Give up. Jordan had promised to struggle when his time came, announced like he was—

It was so easy to judge when Jordan didn’t accept any responsibility, or acknowledge all the ways he’d contributed to his family’s misery. He didn’t want to believe he was at fault even though he knew he was. He knew. He could have done so much more. For his father, and before that for his…

For your Brother. The small voice. He didn’t want to listen, but it was at the helm. It wasn’t time though. Wasn’t that… right?

He was going to die a coward now. Faced with the truth of his own hypocrisy. That he had done nothing his entire life and blamed everyone else for his failures. Because in reality, there did come a point where you wouldn’t have strength left. Where you couldn’t go on. No plucky determination, no indomitable will, nothing you could say or think or do would change it. You just couldn’t go any further.

That was the time when you needed to reach out. And when others had been crying for help reaching for Jordan, he’d walked away. He deserved to die like this. Because now he understood.

He was alone. You did that to yourself.

He was consumed by remorse and guilt. If there had been any strength left in him, hiding for some desperate last attempt that even he wasn’t aware of, it was well and truly gone now. He couldn’t face this anymore; he couldn’t handle this awful truth. He hadn’t been there for anyone, he was a bastard, and he deserved to die at the hands of this monster. He wished that he’d realized this sooner. Back when it would have made a difference. But it was too late now.

So, he closed his eyes, and waited for the end. He gave up.

Soft noises came from the creature. A perverse part of Jordan wanted to cry out for his mother. But he didn’t. He knew she wouldn’t come. She was stuck in a bed somewhere too. And he’d never see her again, wasted any chance he could have.

Jordan’s heartbeat slowed to a gentle beat as his breathing stretched out deeply. The tears which had burst forth along his screams, had gone from a hurricane to a soothing downpour. Even his shuddering whimpering finally grew still because he knew it was time to go. He would die full of guilt and regrets as he’d finally found what running away his entire life got him.

The end of the race with no one there waiting for him.

It gave him a sense of peace he knew he didn’t deserve. An acceptance of penance fueled by his rampant self-loathing. But time passed and the creature… didn’t kill him.

Jordan didn’t see but sensed from the shadows dancing across his closed eyes that the creature had lowered its hands at the show of his submission as it stood over him. It must be studying him now, but why?

Was it worried its prey had died of fright? Angry that its game was over so soon? Why was it hesitating? Was it seriously that afraid he was faking it? It didn’t matter. Let it study and scrutinize him. It didn’t matter what it did because Jordan couldn’t bother to be curious about it now. He was already dead and gone. As he should be.

Like leaving a dream, his mind was shutting down in preparation to abandon ship. One last mournful song was playing out in his mind, a quartet of strings sounding out as the Titanic sank. His memories and regrets were held aloft by a massive door as they looked down at him within the freezing waters, begging him not to go as they released him into the icy depths. But he was so hot right now, and so very tired.

A hand gingerly poked at him. Or, more aptly nudged him.

He ignored it. But the hand, now accompanied by a second, continued to gently push at him. There were no claws, nor teeth, nor dying agony. Just an oddly concerned caress from the creature upon his face accompanied by worried cooing noises.

Obstinately, annoyed as he was that this thing saw fit to want to play with him before the end, Jordan kept his eyes closed. He focused on breathing steadily as the arms of the entity traced his form. He wasn’t sure what they were searching for, but he wasn’t going to question some cruel animal playing with its meal. It almost felt like they were fixing the damn sheets while they were here. Well that’s unexpected, Awe noted, and Jordan bemusedly agreed.

Still, Jordan allowed himself to drift back into the darkness he’d fought so hard to escape earlier. He was at peace now, the sadness dancing in his soul flickered out as he fell back into the void and the silence began to consume him once more.

As the darkness took him, something like a dream followed. Did he deserve to sleep? Perchance to dream? That sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off our mortal coil, surely they must give us pause? The Muffins in his mind gently sung bastardized Shakespeare at his return. Or was that Joy?

He breathed deep as scents of air both waking and slumbering inspired a world of twisting, darkened visions. Up on a mountain high overlooking a stretching sky, endless vales and rolling hills covered in early fogs, morning mists mourning what was missed. Faint chills clinging in that open air he could hear a burbling brook with waters fair. Or was it babbling? Yawning on and singing songs, so familiar it gave him pause.

Opening his dreaming eyes, he drank in the water refreshing him to the marrow of his bones, to the last murmuring echo of his soul. He couldn’t hear the beast of maws as it danced in tongues not known to any save the mad. In the place between it all a crisp breeze floated onward carrying Jordan with it past where the Vigil had fallen quiet, seeking rest where it could, colors splashed like blood on floors of bladed wings. He knew this mountain grove, this hidden meadow within the jagged teeth shaped peaks. He turned and saw his father and brother, setting camp and laughing over bitter memories and his heart broke for all that was no more despite the strength hidden within.

In the end, they had both traveled the same path, and now it called to him.

He longed to join them, but the monster beyond his dreams had not yet finished its bloody duty and had left him breathing. But soon he’d be free and would join them both, even if he didn’t deserve it, even if it came from tooth and claw rather than iron and caliber. As the wind gently caressed him, soothing him, and assuring him that salvation necessitated no proof of worthiness in spite of his hollow beliefs, it tickled his nose playfully. A sweet, energizing smell, slightly sugary, slighting cloying even, enveloped him. It was so wonderful, so familiar. Games with friends, expansions, and raids. Camping with his family and being lightly teased for always insisting on bringing his favorite drink.

He missed his family so much it hurt. But that silly drink, even though he practically had it every day, reminded him of better times. The times he cherished most in his heart. He dreamed of reaching for it, cracking open the can with a resonating snap as his father tried and failed to create smores for his brother. They all laughed around the campfire as the sizzling sounds of carbonation rushing to meet the new day. His brother told stupid jokes and dad wondered at his favorite team’s chances this year. Meaningless words he’d trade his soul to hear again. Please just take it and let me have them. Please. He breathed deep and licked his lips, wanting nothing more in the world than to just drink it. To taste it. To… smell it? He—

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

He paused, and opened his eyes. His real, actual eyes.

He could smell it in the air. He turned and saw the ‘creature’ standing over him meet his gaze. They smiled sweetly. They smelled like—

Mountain Dew…?

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Jordan stared at the monster incredulously. He had… he had just had one the deepest emotional moments of his entire life, accepting death and guilt, Sorrow, and pain. He had probably come closer than he ever had or ever would to facing the demons of his soul.

The only way the last few moments could be more profound would have been if the Archangel Michael had come down from on high to prove his beliefs wrong and to personally escort him to the great beyond. As if Jesus himself had called him on his phone to remind him he was loved and to be saved, even if he was a godless heathen of an atheist.

Instead the entire moment had been ruined when he realized the ‘creature’ before him smelled like his favorite carbonated beverage. He stared at them, betrayal, and fury on his face as he silently accused the yellow #5 clad being of unspeakable sadism.

They looked a little worried at his glare, or more accurately—

She looked worried about his glare.

Standing before him, demure as could be, was a woman. Her blond hair tied back with two ram-like horns covering the sides of her head. She was clothed in a black dress that stopped just before her knees with a white apron adorning her rather prodigious front.

There were bows and frills all over her outfit, and tying the neck piece together was a particularly large bow with a red gem inset in it. A mockery of bow ties everywhere! Cried Disgust. The maid’s eyes still made him uncomfortable, but her beauty seemed determined to calm him. A juxtaposition of loving temptation into lust-inducing madness.

Worse yet, she was dressed like a would-be anime French maid, and Jordan, now certain he saw the truth of things, had but one idea why she would wear fake horns and even faker looking contacts. It was clear she had intended to scare him as part of some massive, stupid prank because it was abundantly evident now that the woman next to him was, in fact, a cosplayer. Fear fainted in light of the revelations.

And it had worked. He’d never have guessed the truth if the idiots hadn’t spilt Mountain Dew on the cosplayer’s stupid costume. He couldn’t see the stain, but he’d recognize that smell anywhere. He’d have thought she was a demon maid and probably fainted or died of a heart attack otherwise! Thankfully his heart felt quite strong in his chest at the moment, perhaps motivated by righteous indignation to beat with a strength he’d never felt from it prior. If only he knew, ha! Awe laughed over some inside joke.

What a stupid, worthless prank! No doubt pulled off by some asshole that hired an Instagram model dressed like a weeaboo for the punchline. What even was the punchline? To make him out to be an idiot? He was furious to know he’d been made a fool of in such a manner—and that was before the girl started talking.

Jordan’s eyes popped open in shock and outrage, and it was only the lack of strength in his arms that kept him from smacking her on her stupid coifed head. She was talking in a foreign language, not even one close to English! Its odd tones were punctuated by the occasional guttural noise or two. Jordan had seen enough wuxia movies, and unfortunately anime as well, to suspect it was an Eastern language.

Jordan speculated about it. Japanese…? Maybe Chinese? Koreanese?

‘Koreanese?’ Really? What a moron. Disgust scoffed.

Why isn’t she speaking English? Why!? What’s the damn point to the prank?? Jordan thought.

As he stared at the woman speaking her weird, and in his mind bastardized, version of an ‘oriental’ language, he was convinced that whatever their grand joke was, they really hadn’t accounted for him catching on so quickly. Was she supposed to ‘konnichiwa’ him into being a drooling simp because of how she looked? What was the point? He shook his head in contempt—while he had no idea what they were aiming for, he knew it didn’t much matter since he’d cottoned on.

He was on camera, being recorded right now, after having literally screamed like a little girl and cried as she approached. Whatever damage could have been done to his image, clearly had been. He was nothing more than a broken, beardless husk of a human. Why couldn’t they see that and just move on?

Yet despite his continued glaring at the cosplayer, she continued to speak and gesture at Jordan energetically, smiling up a storm like it was the happiest damn day of her life. He was pretty sure she was trying to ask him something, but what? Was she wanting him to stammer and blush at her? Apologize and beg her for something? Call her senpai and ask for bathwater?

She was gorgeous, beyond most definitions of the word, and beyond anything he’d ever seen in real life. But she was so damn beautiful it was unnatural, uncanny really. Still, it was nothing that photoshop and plastic surgery couldn’t achieve, he was sure of it. Women like her were a dime a dozen online, and the fact that she was clearly pretending to care about him, like he was important to her was just a knife in his roaring heart. Did she really have to mock him after everything she and whoever else orchestrated this prank had done?

The damn tears still hadn’t even stopped as Jordan’s face burned with indignation and shame. Her voice was grating terribly on his headache, every dancing tone was like static from a radio station being tuned by a manic chimpanzee. Every once in a while, it hit on something, but that just sounded like a shriek of gibberish. Jordan paid it no mind—it was probably yet another side effect of the drugs.

The drugs. Jordan sighed dejectedly as the thought crossed his mind again. The woman leaned down towards him again ‘worried’ about his lack of response. Her arms ‘accidently’ pressed against her clearly artificial chest suggestively—nothing defied gravity that strongly and was natural. Oh mamma! Awe was impressed at least. They were… big after all.

The cosplayer was a good actress—Jordan would give her that. If he weren’t so sure on what was going on, he’d really have thought she cared. But he knew enough about the true nature of women, and no beautiful buxom babe would ever care about him. Letting himself be convinced otherwise would only cause him to play right into her manipulative, heartless hands.

Instead, he gathered what little strength had returned to him in his brief break and met her eyes. Her creepy, contact-covered weeaboo eyes.

And then he hit her.

With a pillow.

On—Her—Stupid—Face!

She must have finally gotten the message at that, as the cosplayer fell back in shock grasping the pillow. Her smile faltered, but after a moment it returned in force. She was incorrigible. If Jordan didn’t know any better, he’d swear she was smiling even more now than before. It’s obvious when you think about it idiot! Can he even hear me? Or are we just limited to basic influence? Disgust shouted out uselessly.

Shhh! It’s better if he doesn’t know and we shouldn’t risk it anyway. Save your strength, that thing is coming back soon, said Love.

He cursed the maid internally, wishing nothing more than an endless wellspring of torment and torture on her stupid pretty face. Or maybe that was the growling wyvern? No, it was Jordan. He hated this stupid cosplayer so deeply, it seared through his body. The maid began to scurry out of the room, letting out a soft giggling as she did so. She was radiating smug happiness.

He didn’t understand how anyone could be so happy having done such horrible things to another person. Was his pain really that grand of a thing for the pranksters? Were they getting high off of their own Schadenfreude?

No, this was a waste of time. Jordan tried to shake himself out of his line of thinking—it wasn’t helpful. On multiple levels. Least of which was the fact that Jordan didn’t even know what Schadenfreude meant, he just knew the cosplayer was clearly having a whale of a time at the sight of his misery. She must be so proud to have drugged and humiliated him.

Oh my Lord, really!? This fucking moron! Why are we defending this guy again?

That’s not your place to decide Disgust. Come on, let’s help Vigilance get back up. She’s almost recovered.

Wait Love, did he say Drugs? Are we Drugged again!?

God damnit Fear! Calm down before you—

And that was the part that mattered. Drugging him? Seriously? And then shaving him? Double Seriously? Then putting him in some sort of pretty, pretty princess wannabe bed?

Seriously!? Jordan thought.

Kill them all.

Oh great, that bitch is back up. Can’t you just go back to sleep Rage?

Can you? Awe retorted at Disgust.

S-shut up, idiot.

Whatever they’d wanted to achieve had clearly succeeded. He had cried, like a damn child throwing a tantrum at Walmart. Even now the tears continued to fall on his smooth cheeks. Though they remained disturbingly cooler than his flesh as the unhealthy warmth continued unabated. Each tear felt like it was moments away from sizzling as they fell down his face, burning an inverse trail as they went despite their coolness. Each one a chasmic mark of how he had failed as a man.

He just wished he could make all of them hurt too. The worst part was that he couldn’t even fight whoever had setup this stupid prank. Without a doubt, they’d have him sign paperwork—assuming he hadn’t been tricked into signing it already—to ‘justify’ the drugging. They’d say it was just an act, or maybe what they’d used had been legal and it wouldn’t matter anyway. The rest would have been completely ‘consensual,’ because if he wanted to fight it?

Jordan was no expert on the judicial system, he just knew that if it came to a lawsuit he’d lose by default. He couldn’t afford a lawyer, and even if he were guaranteed victory how would he survive long enough to collect on it? Lawsuits could last months if not years! He was barely surviving day to day.

Ehrh, s-sorry guys. I’m almost back up though. Is everyone okay?

It’s alright Vigilance. We’re fine, thank you—so very much dear. Do you need help standing? Lean on me, okay?

Thanks, Love. What did I miss though?

Not much, Vigil. The new guy is just freakin’ out thinking he’s going to get sued or something.

Wait, what? Sued? Are you serious, Awe?

I know, right!?

Awe, this is terrible! Legal ramifications for injustice can’t be allowed! What can I do to help?

…

Is… is she serious?

And what if he had missed work and been fired? The best he could hope for then was that the pranksters would pay him for his part in their video. So if they did offer, he’d have to accept it with all due humility. He’d have to swallow what amounted to ‘pride’ in his life outside of manhood and say “Ha ha, great prank bros, you really got me. That maid part too? Super great! So pretty I couldn’t stop drooling. Hashtag rich goddess tricks ugly guy with no beard! Ha ha!” He really was pathetic, wasn’t he?

The only good thing you had going for you was that beard! Ha!

Disgust? Is this all your doing? You need to stop influencing him!

Fuck you, Vigilance!

His beard. That was probably how the cosplayer got him now that Jordan thought about it. He’d never believe a woman of that caliber was interested in him, but he did occasionally get compliments on his beard. Normally from men, oddly enough, but still it was nice to have had something worthwhile like that to take pride in. You have other good qualities too, Love tried to interject, but like always he didn’t hear its voice.

So—the cosplayer had probably lured Jordan into a coffee shop or somewhere on some stupid pretense about his beard. The whole joke was probably about how a man really looked without his prime feature. Shaved and humiliated, see what a ‘real’ man looks like—down with the patriarchy!

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid fuck fuck!! Jordan screamed in his mind.

I wish we could help him.

I know, Love, but we’re supposed to stay out of the waking mind.

Tell that to Disgust, Fear, and Rage then Vigilance! They keep needling him—why can’t we help more too? Joy, Awe, and I can—

You know why. The quiet voice ended the debate.

Jordan lifted his wobbly arms and drove the palms of his hands into his eyes. He just wanted the tears to stop and the headache to go away already. There wasn’t enough pain in his soul to justify how he felt about his situation.

After a couple minutes, he’d managed to mostly calm down. He removed his hands and blinked slowly. The bed he was on must have been a canopy bed, as a large wooden ‘roof’ loomed above him. It looked like it had a tremendous amount of detail to it, but it was largely imperceptible—like someone had carved a thousand sweeping circles and lines across the whole underside, but the cuts were shallow and lacked any special coloring. It made them easy to miss. Why would anyone bother putting that much detail into something so easily overlooked? Jordan thought.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see the posts of the bed, each with heavy, thick drapes tied to them. It was clear whoever owned this house was as rich as could be. Jordan just hoped the joke didn’t involve being left alone in here until the owner ‘accidentally’ found him.

With some struggling, Jordan managed to move some of the covers back, and then slowly propped himself up onto his elbows to get a better view of the room he was in, though his vision was blurry from… liquids. His earlier ruminations about the cavernous nature of the area had been spot-on. If anything, they may have undersold it even.

It was massive, easily to Jordan’s chagrin, two or three times the size of his entire apartment. While his living space was never going to be impressive, to have it so casually dwarfed by a single ornate room left him flabbergasted. And the decorations! It was like sitting in an art museum. While the lower walls themselves were a deep, rich wood so darkly brown they were almost black, lighter shades adorned the upper halves and were engraved with gold and silver filigrees everywhere. It seemed wasteful considering nature-themed art covered the majority of the upper walls.

Gigantic paintings, several up to five or more feet across gave the room an astounding sense of natural beauty and open space. It was an odd defiance to the dark motif the rest of the room’s structure seemed to possess. Then again, perhaps one small snippet was too much to judge the entire foundational architecture off of.

The places between the paintings tended to have golden sconces with glowing yellow crystals. A very odd lighting choice in Jordan’s mind, but he supposed the owner just liked fancy LED lighting. The bed itself was situated snugly in one of the four corners of the room, with the main entrance just in front of it in the middle of the wall. Just beyond where the nightstand sat on his left was a table covered in beakers and unmarked cases. Odd smells came from there, clashing with the lighter floral scent in the room. Perhaps it was the reason there was an odd sterile undertone to the room?

Beyond that was a grand fireplace, currently empty and unused, made of some dark polished stone. The far wall had five giant windows, each with thick dark drapes that Jordan’s long stint with night shift jobs reminded him of black out curtains. He figured it was either that or simply dark outside.

The rest of the room just seemed to be a series of chairs, tables, or shelves of various sizes and shapes, and at the moment, of unknown use. One area looked like it could have been an impromptu living room, and on almost every available surface were vases filled with—

Flowers. Jordan shuddered as he wondered about whatever brat probably called this room theirs. He bet they’d be real damn pleased to find a big ol’ hairy stranger in their bed. What was the point of being put in here anyway? Jordan still couldn’t wrap his head around that part of the prank, but he sighed and worked to dismiss the thought.

Why should he care after all? It’s not like figuring out the thought process of heartless asshats of the internet was going to help him. He shook his head energetically to rid himself of the thoughts, he’d need to—

Something slapped his face.

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