[Ishmael]
“Another martini, sir?”
“Sure,” I replied gruffly.
A six-armed cougar that looked like she stole Alfred Pennyworth’s suit immediately got to work preparing a new round of drinks for the demons that sat nearest to her. She procured some chilled glasses from a small black box in front of her. Her upper arms were donated to making my drinks while the other two fastidiously moved to prepare two other beverages.
A bottle of gin fell from the sky and into her waiting hands. Seamlessly, the gin was stirred with ice into a small tumbler and went into the cold glass. A skewer of three pimento-stuffed olives dropped from his inventory and perfectly into the glass with a small clinking sound. She gently placed the glass into my waiting fingers. The chill sent a sharp feeling into my fingertips that quickly numbed.
“Here you go, sir,” the cat butler said with a shallow bow while their middle set of arms were furiously shaking a tumbler with another patron’s drink. “Please, do not hesitate to tell me if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
I lifted the glass and emptied the contents into my mouth. My nostrils flared and wisps of steam puffed out of my nose. The skewer passed through my teeth, robbed of their olives. With one chew, the vinegar-encased fruits popped and slithered down my gullet.
I despised olives or pickles while I was alive, but my transformation seemed to adjust my flavor preferences slightly. That, or eating disgusting beasts and blood for who knows how long had gone a long way to removing any sort of picky eating habits from my system altogether. A cruel parent would never have another complaint from their children so long as they fed them worse meals each time they heard whining.
A gentle breeze kissed my scales as I reclined back on my sofa directly out of the Roman Empire. Palm fronds piloted by a lemur-headed woman kept a constant cool temperature washing over me.
I looked out of the windows of the train car at the landscape quickly passing by. Beautiful villas you’d see celebrities live in sat atop verdant hills coated in multicolored wildflowers. Snow-capped mountains sat majestically in the distance. Ducks floated on the serene waters of a lake. Their heads bobbed underwater to pull wriggling fish to the surface. It appeared as though it were painted from the mind of a content artist.
I hated it.
Powerful demons surrounded me. A rooster-headed demon with a body coated in glistening scales swallowed pounds of seared steak from a golden platter. A hideous creature with sharp, yellowed teeth and leathery-black wings shared a hookah filled with a mana-infused gas with a tiny metallic demon. A multi-horned demoness with spider’s eyes ate grapes from the vine; held by the dainty hands of some messy-haired blonde ghoul attendant who knew she was the next to be devoured.
It was all far too cordial, all running counter to the expectations and emotions that were provided at the platform. These were the same demons that were ready to gouge out each other’s eyes at the smallest provocation, were they not? Were a few small luxuries from the world left behind enough to placate them?
I rose from my cushioned lectus and surveyed the car. Nobody spared me even the smallest amount of interest. They were awash in their own little world of pleasure and excess. The gluttons and the sloths and the lustful and the proud.
No, those were no longer the correct terms, they were all caught in the clutches of the siren song of very certain Follies. I could see their work everywhere I looked.
image [https://i.imgur.com/OROhSSl.jpeg]
Message
This is not our doing. Anything that one does is the result of the own weakness. A whisper in the ear is not the act made manifest. From our perspective, you are the boring one that is incapable of indulgence.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied dismissively, waving the pointed message away. Did they really have nothing better to do than watch me all the time?
“Sir, are you alright?” The six-armed cat inquired. A look of muted worry crossed her face as it looked at the other members of the staff. They all seemed to share a silent nod of agreement; some sort of protocol when one of us inevitably acts out.
“Who’s the strongest one in here?” I demanded of the car’s occupants. “Or am I to assume that it’s me?”
Every entity within the car turned to acknowledge my question. While the demoness seemed wholly disinterested and the metal dwarf looked almost frightened, the rest took satisfying offense to my statement. A golden-eyed demon in shimmering armor nearly fell out of their seat to be the first one to stand up. A puff of hookah smoke left the winged horror as they extended their wingspan to shroud a portion of the car in darkness. A crow demon rose from the shadows; clear liquid dripping from a pair of silver daggers.
“It is I,” a handful of demons said in unison, speaking over each other as to the reasons for their supremacy.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“I am the chosen disciple of the Demon in Red, blessed with all the powers that they possess” the gluttonous scaled-rooster boasted. They pushed their plate to the side and belched a plume of fire.
“I conquered every faction of the Wailing Valley,” the armored demon of gold eyes boasted. “I plundered every Dungeon of its treasure. There was a celebration when I left that region that should still be raging on.”
“There was not a being that I crossed that did not quiver in fear whenever my shadow passed overhead,” the hideous horror jumped in. “I am greatly interested to see if you can withstand it.”
I took a step towards my rivals only to find my body frozen in place. I tried to yank my arms to free myself, but to little avail. My eyes darted amongst the rest of the demons in the car to see which one had trapped me so, but it appeared that the other demons that I had worked into aggression were similarly restrained while the rest did not move at all.
“What is this?” The crow spat as it tried and failed to slip their bonds and descend back into the shadows.
The scaled rooster’s body shimmered with potent mana that was stifled by the invisible threads that held them in place. The horror attempted to flap their wings, but they were tangled up and folded behind its back in awkward angles.
“Look at these nogoodniks, folks,” The voice of a Great Depression era radio host boomed throughout the car. “Like mongrels left alone in a butcher shop. They have everything they could ever need but still raise their hackles when one gets too close. See how they all jump to take a bite out of each other when one of them barks? Watch them struggle in the nets of the dogcatcher!”
A man that looked as though he were made of polished wax waltzed into the car through a rip in the ether. Gel-filled black hair dried into perfect waves across its head. It wore a black suit with a red tie with a white flower boutonnière fastened to its lapel.
“How are all you beautiful people doing tonight?” The mannequin asked us. “I hope that everything is to your liking and you are ready for the special night tonight.”
The midday sunlight outside immediately transitioned to darkness. Artificial moon and starlight along with lamps lighting up the windows of buildings prevented it from turning fully black.
“A bit loud and full of hot air, but I don’t mind. I’m used to being surrounded by bloviating weaklings that hide behind words. Though, it could easily be more to my liking if this one has a twin,” the spider-eyed demoness said, hungry eyes planted firmly on the shivering demon feeding her.
“How adorable, she thinks she’s the belle of the ball; better than the rest of them,” the mannequin taunted with a laugh. “What a bunch of ackamarakus. Observe how a few trinkets whisper into their inflated egos, getting them rosy in the cheeks over their own greatness.”
“Who are you to speak to us this way?” The golden-eyed demon demanded. “Release us!”
“Well, you can simply call me Bob,” Bob the mannequin answered jovially. “I was voted by popular demand to represent ChipTV’s coverage of the Zero Car. Thank you, as always, beautiful viewers for choosing me. As for the status of your release, that is up to our wonderful staff who had determined that you were misbehaving. Asgina, do you think that our guests will be able to behave?”
“They will have little option,” the six-armed panther replied. “Either they comply with our instructions, or they will be removed.”
Asgina tugged slightly on the binds. I felt my neck tighten and air struggle to travel down my throat. The other attendants also flashed their weapons and glowed softly with the beginnings of a spell. The spider-eyed demoness saw the expression upon the ghoul’s face and realized that her prey was not as helpless as they initially appeared.
“You heard it, everyone. None of this horsing around,” Bob admonished the car in the same way that a teacher would address a room for rowdy schoolchildren. “Why do you all look so surprised that your servants have a little power in their pockets? You didn’t truly believe that these demons were lesser than you, did you? Well, maybe if we all were the same level, but that’s not the case. Compared to us as we are, you are but dirt. But, that’s okay! We are here to celebrate you!”
Then, the bindings loosened and we were able to stand freely. Like a shotgun blast from a guard, the prison brawl ended before it started. I showed my hands compliantly to Bob who provided a subtle nod in response.
“What are you talking about?” The tiny metallic creature squeaked like a loose wheel on a shopping cart. “Why are we here?”
“Now, there’s a question,” Bob complimented with a beaming smile. “Alright, hit it!”
The couches and stools and bar slipped into the train to be replaced by podiums. A travelator on the ground pushed us behind various podiums. I leaned forwards to see my name plastered on the front of the podium with a little caricature of a black lizard scowling beside it.
Shrill trumpets blared into the car to play out a jaunty tune. Asgina and the rest of the attendants clapped to either side of us. Spotlights focused on Bob as he began to dance to the rhythm of clapping that came from all sides. He kicked out his legs and swirled about like a puppet. He made his way up to a stage that was forming in the center of the car. Applause and screams of adoration fell down upon Bob and his teeth chattered in joy.
“Hello beautiful demons!” Bob screamed at the top of his voice. “Welcome to the Zero Car! The most popular production on the Hell Express and the most anticipated broadcast in the entire third rung! Brought to you in no small part by our sponsors that we are legally not actually allowed to mention. It’s bad for PR, if you haven’t heard.”
Bob made a few finger guns and shot them into the air while making a stupid expression. Raucous laughter emanated from outside of the car like they had burlap sacks over their heads.
“I’m your host, Bob, and joining me are seven wonderful contestants. These are our VIPs of VIPs and, as you’ve already seen, they are quite feisty.”
‘Oohs’ and ‘ahs’ broke out from the invisible audience as if by Bob’s bidding. The emotions around me were confused, nervous, or pissed. I sat firmly in the third camp.
“Ooh, look at these glares, folks,” Bob said to hearty laughter. “Remember when all of you were this uncivilized on your own journeys on the Hell Express.”
Wordless voices of dissatisfaction seeped through the walls at Bob’s pointed jabs at their embarrassing pasts. However, the host’s smile did not waver for even a moment.
“Now, don’t stop laughing now folks. We’re taking a look at our old yearbooks and having a little laugh at our own expense. No need to be so sardonic over the entire thing folks.”
A few laughs poked through the silence.
“I know, I know. You’re not here just for me. Let’s kick things off. How about we ask our contestants a question?”
Unseen eyes turned to watch us intensely. This must be how the animals in the zoo feel. Creatures that they don’t understand watching them for no discernable reason. ‘Dance for me’ I could hear them say inside my head. ‘Show me something entertaining.’
My skin itched from the sensation. I wanted to grip the bars and scream outside of my cage, but that’s exactly what they wanted.
“Contestants, what do you think it is that qualified you for this room?”