Ever since she had first heard Smith and Smithey talking, she had been wondering as to their true nature and now she couldn’t help herself. What on earth were these two men doing? “So if you guys are players, why are you guys playing guards down in a dungeon?”

Smithey leaned forward on his spear. “Because we’re getting paid.”

She was confused. “You’re getting paid? By whom?”

“Severin, of course,” Smithey answered.

Smith grinned, “The owner of the dungeon. The keeper of dragons. Overlord of kobolds. The mad mage himself.”

“Why would Severin pay people to play guards in his dungeon?” She asked.

“That’s for him to know and for us to not know,” Smithey answered.

“Ours is not to question why, but only that we do and … don’t die. Preferably.” Smith happily tapped his staff. “All we do is punch the clock, ma’am.”

She leaned her head forward, which she hoped didn’t look as silly as it felt as she was still lying on the floor. “And you guys are happy just playing guards down in a dungeon.”

Smithey shrugged. “It’s a job. We watch movies between patrols. It’s a pretty good gig.”

“You guys are mercenaries,” she said.

Smith raised a meaty finger, “I prefer the term: adventure capitalist.”

“Okay …” She let her voice trail off and she looked from troll to troll. This changed things. She had been wondering about these two ever since she had first heard them talking and while she had heard of players who just wanted to play regular people in a medieval world, she had never encountered a player who was actively acting as a hireling for another player. Working a schedule. Collecting a paycheck.

Above her, the two trolls were looking at her expectantly, so finally she asked, “So what do we do now?”

“Well,” Smith scratched his chin, “I think the best thing would be to leave you here somewhere as I think the two of us have a much bigger problem on our hands.”

Smithey gave his partner an amused look. “I thought you were going to turn in for the night?”

“Well, your mother called and said she was busy,” Smith snapped.

“I don’t recall you having met my mother.”

“She makes a mean omelet.”

“No, she doesn’t. My mother can hardly cook.”

“What? Is she disabled or something?”

“No, she’s just a shitty cook.”

“Not with me she’s not.”

Calista spoke up. “Okay, okay, just let me ask you one more thing.”

Smith grunted. “Fire away honey.”

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Calista paused for a moment, then said, “I’m not your honey.”

“No, but you are tied up,” the big troll said.

She took a breath. “So what are the two of you going to do now? Am I just supposed to lay here and wait for your employer to come down and torture me?”

“That was two questions,” Smithey said dryly.

“But I asked them in one go,” she said.

“What are you, a lawyer?” Smithey asked.

These two are impossible. If I wasn’t tied up, I’d have stabbed them both in the face by now. “I’m just asking,” she sighed.

“Well …” Smith scratched himself again, “… I figure we’ll mosey around the hallways for a bit looking for the mass murderer you let loose and see if we can’t find him again. Even though I think neither of us will be looking too hard because Dillard is about as fun to deal with as a rattlesnake in a sandbox. We’ll maybe mix in a few breaks, clock some overtime, and take a nice detour through the caverns to milk it a bit. Then I suppose we’ll log out for the night.”

“As for you,” Smithey added, “I would just log out for a while and then come back in the morning or something.”

“Yeah,” Smith agreed, “everyone here is probably going to be pretty busy with the mess you just made.”

“What about my partner?” She asked. “Is he here somewhere?”

Smithey’s smile was sarcastic. “I thought you said one more thing?”

Smith cut in. “Do you mean the mage, m’lady?”

“Don’t …” She stopped herself, was ‘m’lady’ better than ‘honey?’ Kinda? Maybe? Not really, but kinda sorta? She grit her teeth and moved on. “… I mean yes, the wizard that you might have caught a while ago.”

Smithey looked confused. “There was a wizard?”

Smith nodded. “The girls got him.”

“Oh,” Smithey said, “of course the girls got him.”

“That’s why I thought they might’a stabbed her. They’ve been getting better.” Smith turned back to Calista. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s in another room where he’s probably being tortured in horrible and unspeakable ways that you can’t imagine. I mean … you might be able to imagine them in a little bit because I’m pretty sure that’s the plan with you, but you can’t imagine them now because they haven’t been done to you yet.”

“I think I get the point,” she said.

Smith continued, “And like my partner said, it would probably be better for you if you just logged out for a bit. You’re not going to be able to escape and if I was a betting man, which I am sometimes, I would bet that old Tarkas doesn’t have time for you yet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Calista replied.

Smithey looked at Smith, “That means she’s going to try and escape.”

“It does not!” she snapped.

Smith nodded, “Oh, I know it does.”

“It so does not!” she insisted.

Smithey gave a bored shrug, “I suppose she wouldn’t be an adventurer if she didn’t.”

“It’s exactly what I would do if I was in her position,” Smith agreed.

She had been hoping her dialogue with them would distract them enough to leave her in the corner. It had worked with NPCs in the past. But apparently, these two think they’re too

smart for that.

Smithey’s bored expression looked down at her. “I suppose you were hoping to distract us with some snappy dialogue so we would leave you alone and tied up in the corner.”

“That is completely untrue,” she lied.

Smith sniffed in indignation. “And I also suppose she’s tried that in the past and figured we’d be no better than your common goblin-with-a-stick NPC.”

“I would never,” she said.

Smithey smiled at his partner. “I can’t imagine what would give her that impression.”

“Look …” she tried to think of something. “Look, I never intended …”

“Silence woman!” Smith snapped. “You’ve been caught red-handed and I will tolerate no more buck from the likes of you! You’re lucky I’m not an evil man or I would fasten your gentle limbs to the rack myself! As it is, I shall merely throw you in a cage and leave you to the devices of more evil men than I.”

“Wait,” she said, “I need to tell you guys something.”

Smith raised his hand. “I will hear no more bruck from you!”

“Stay strong, brother,” Smithey said from behind a sardonic smile.

She cut in, “But really, I have a big problem. I can’t log ou - …”

The giant troll then reached down, grabbed her, and carried her over to the nearest cage. He tossed her inside where she landed and rolled to a stop with her face aimed at the wall.

“Seriously! I can’t log out!” She cried.

Smithey laughed, “Never heard that one before.”

Smith grunted. “Your lies will not dissuade me. You have unleashed a psychopath in our beloved dungeon and so we shall keep you here while we sort this mess out.”

Their footsteps began to walk away. She grimaced as she fought against her bonds and the ground in an effort to roll over. “No!” She cried. “Stop! Wait! I really can’t log out and I can feel …” The door slammed. Then a click and the slide of metal. She was locked in.