The next room was five sided with a high ceiling. Through the torchlight, Calista could see red markings carved into the floor. As she led Lefty into the room, she leaned down to read the carved runes. Flipping through her skills, she activated [Knowledge: Magic] but a few seconds later a notification returned saying [skill check failed].

She turned to Lefty, “Say, what are these words carved into the floor?”

“It’s some sort of summoning circle,” he said. “Infernal most likely, but I can’t be certain. My skill at reading magic isn’t high enough to read all of this properly.”

“So what you’re saying is, this isn’t the kind of room we want to sit around and hang out in.”

“Not unless you had plans to have dinner with an elder devil or perhaps a pit fiend or two.”

“As tempting as it is, I think our evening’s booked.”

“So is mine,” Lefty agreed, “but unless you see something I don’t, I’m afraid we have one very significant problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“Where’s the door?”

It was true. She had been so focused on the floor’s markings that she hadn’t noticed the room had no other visible exit. In fact, she couldn’t even see the door they had entered, which had disappeared.

Is this place a summoning circle, or a prison, or both? She studied the room. There were no markings or buttons or anything she could see that might lead to a hidden door or portal. Beside her, Lefty had pulled out a scroll.

“I think …” He had the scroll held out as his eyes bounced between it and the walls. “If that’s a, no, hrm … there, that might be … no, not that one … if I can just … ah-ha!” He then waved a signal in the air and his eyes glowed for a second. “There! Now let me see … just as I thought.”

He pushed past her as she asked, “What’s just as you thought?”

The wizard walked up to a wall and began looking it over. “There’s magic writing all over the walls, but you can’t see it as it’s the wizard’s version of invisible ink.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Yes, and if you give me just a minute, I think I can …”

The sound of moving stone interrupted him as Calista quickly reached into her pouch and pulled out a pair of invisibility potions. Pressing one into the wizard’s hand, she drank hers and then hugged the wall. Lefty saw her disappear and took the hint. Drinking the potion, he vanished just as a hidden doorway opened up a couple meters away. Then they watched as a pair of guards, one monstrously fat and the other tall and thin, strolled into the room. It was Smith and Smithey.

Smith, the fat troll, was talking. “You know I was talking to Tally the other day and he was asking why we play these games so much and so I told him I just thought it was fun, you know?”

“I suppose he’s just mad we don’t play Reprisal with him.” Smithey, the thin and slightly taller troll replied.

“Probably,” Smith agreed.

Smithey’s voice was mocking, “I mean, that game is just a waste.”

The two trolls, who had been moving at a leisurely pace, had now made it to the edge of the carvings that marked the floor. Here, both guards stopped as the Smith leaned his bulk against his spear as he continued. “Totally. His problem is that he’s kinda okay at it and so he can’t stop playing the damn thing.”

“Is he still streaming?”

“Sure is.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Does he make a living yet?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Then probably not.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I think I probably am too.”

“Ha! You know what else I think is probable?”

“What’s that?”

“We’re a lot happier than he is.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. Those games are hella depressing.”

“You damn right they are. Every single one of those online multiplayer competitive shits are depressing. He asked me to try one with him one time and so I did just because I like the guy. He had me play ‘support,’ whatever that means. And so I did everything he told me to. Studied the guides. Played my role. Showed up on time. But every third game he would just get pissed as hell at the team because none of them were playing the right way and he would just rant and rant and so finally I had to ghost him because I just couldn’t take it anymore. But I’ll tell you what I think those gottamned games are for. I think they’re probably all a psyop by the Chinese to destroy Western Civilization by making all the men depressed so they can steal all our data.”

“But don’t they play them as much as we do?”

“No, that shit doesn’t affect Asians.”

“That’s not what the news says.”

“Bullshit. The news is bullshit. You know this.”

“That’s what she said.”

“No, that’s what she said after I said she could come over and she spent the night and then we woke up the next morning and I sent her back to your place.”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“That’s not what she said.”

“What did she say?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“No … actually … I really wouldn’t.”

There was a pause as both trolls seemed to wait for the other to crack. When neither did, Smith finally asked, “Anyway, what was I saying?”

“Before or after the racism?”

“Before.”

“Something about games and depression. I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening.”

“Oh yeah! All those games are depression traps. All of ‘em. That’s why it's a conspiracy. They’re trying to destroy us from the inside. Every single one of those motherfuckers who plays those shitty competitive games is unhappy. They’re mad or they’re depressed or they’re angry or they’re lonely or they’re addicted … well, they’re all addicted, but they’re any one of those things at any given time and it’s all because those games are a fix! They’re like drugs! It’s just match after match of some electronic thing feeding you a little false sense of accomplishment for blowing away some other guy you can’t even see so you can get just the teeniest-tinyist bit of serotonin to fire in your brain to feed your fix until you can blow the next guy away and get the next fix. It’s horrible. It’s worse than drugs, but if you were on drugs then you’d at least have to go outside every once in a while and get a little fresh air and sunlight on your way to visit your drug dealer. With those games, all you do is sit and play and fight and cry and drink energy drinks and bad food until the sun comes up and then you go to work the next morning feeling like you’ve been on a two week bender. It’s sad, really.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So, why were we here again?”

“We’re summoning a pair of succubi for the boss so he can have a menage a trois.”

“Oh, right. Do you have the scroll?”

“Sure do!”

The fat troll then produced a scroll which he uncoiled and began to read out loud in a language that sounded half infernal and half pig latin. Halfway through, the skinnier troll touched him on the shoulder and encouraged him to step back.

“Oh yeah,” the fat troll replied, “I almost forgot.”

“Yeah, it was only the one time but better safe than sorry,” the tall, skinny troll added.

The fat troll then stepped back, cleared his throat, and continued. When he finished, the torches flared with a crimson light that ignited the runes on the floor. This was followed by the sound of the fabric of reality being peeled back like an orange and then suddenly, in the center of the room, there appeared a pair of ivory skinned women with black hair and black horns, and black wings who were wearing nothing but for a bit of black tape that covered the necessary parts. As the two women stood there smoldering, they studied the two trolls with eyes like black orbs that no doubt mirrored the blackness in their souls. One of them shot a seductive smile at Smith as a forked tongue licked seductively at her lips.

“Back ye harlot!” The obese troll cried. “Your tricks will not work on us, we are but eunuchs!”

“We’re not really eunuchs,” Smithey added. “We’re just playing eunuchs in this part of the game because it pays well.”

The fat troll turned to his partner. “Pays really well, actually.”

“I know, it makes me wonder what kind of place we’re working in, you know.”

“Don’t you know it.”

One of the succubi lowered herself to all fours and hissed.

The fat troll turned back to the demonic woman. “Right, I suppose you’re anxious to meet the boss.”

The angry succubus made a sound something between a snake and a predatory feline.

“Hostile, this one,” Smithey said.

“You think?” Smith then waved toward the door. “Anyhow, this way ma’am. I’m sure he’ll let you go once you’re done.”

The two succubi growled in unison as the hidden door opened behind them. As the two guards led their infernal charges out of the room, Calista quietly slipped in behind them. There, she found herself in yet another corridor where she hugged the wall and waited, listening as the two trolls marched their succubi off into the darkness.

When their voices faded into the distance, she quietly whispered, “Lefty, are you here?”

“Yeah.”