Russel awoke to the sound of a blaring horn, his forehead planted on the steering wheel. Groggy, he lifted his head and the honking stopped.

~Wimmy, a monster? Some stupid dream …~ he thought.

Why was he here anyway?

Oh, right. Night had fallen. Apparently, that meant danger these days, but Russel thought little of monsters so wimpy that couldn’t handle a little light. Even if not, surely they weren’t everywhere. Not yet, at least. Besides, he had a flashlight. His date with Ashley Bennet had run a little late, but what kind of saps dated in the daytime, anyway?

After hearing … something … in the distance, Ashley had asked him to drive her home a little faster. What right did he have to deny a lady a full show of what his sports car could do?

There were vines in the road. Rather, they looked like vines.

Spikes sprang up from them. Organic or not, he knew tire shredders when he saw them. Russel had swerved onto another road. However, they were there too. At that point, his last-second turns had sent the car out of control. Now, here he was with his prized sports car crumpled against a tree.

“Nnngh … Russ?” Ashley mumbled shakily, sprawled against the door.

He turned to her and scowled. She didn’t look so good.

“̸̞͓͒̿̎G̵̞͎̋͠M̴̯͈̱̣̈́͛̿͗M̶̧͉͊̈́̇͠ͅ!̵̘̘̓!̴̛͔̽̅̾!̵͇̹̌̈́̉͝”̷̼͈̗̾

There was that sound again.

“Okay, Ashes. We gotta move,” Russel declared.

Ashley nodded dimly. She tried to sit upright. Her torso moved, but her legs didn’t cooperate. Horror flashed across her features as she stared at them.

Her words came gushing out. “Russ,-I can’t-mo-” She stopped herself. “I think I need a little time. My legs are hurt bad.”

He raised a suspicious eyebrow. She’d revised her words, hadn’t she? She probably couldn’t feel her legs at all … which was his fault … No. It wasn’t his fault someone had put a tire shredder into the road.

He felt vibrations. An earthquake? Probably not. He could hear something too, drawing closer as the vibrations grew bigger. It had to be huge.

“Well, we don’t have ‘a little time’,” Russel stated as he stepped out of the car.

“Please-don’t-leave-me!” Ashley blurted.

He tensed. Why couldn’t she be a typical dumb blonde?

“I’m not leaving you,” he half-heartedly declared. “Now keep it down. You’re gonna attract something.”

He made his way around the car and opened her door. She fell out like a sack of potatoes. He should have figured that would happen, but still, it was annoying. Russel repressed his look of disdain. Ashley saw it first. Seriously, why was she so observant?

Russel hoisted her into his arms. The vibrations were getting hard to ignore.

*VVVVVVVVVMMMMMMMMMMMMMM*

He trudged up to the nearest building: an abandoned shop, by the looks of it. Russel shoved through the door. Luckily it was already open … which was strange. He glimpsed the looming figure of something rounding the corner down the street.

It was gigantic.

Russel moved deeper into the shop, making his way to the back room. The ceiling looked strange, like it had been slip-shod painted in a layer of flesh. He could smell it too: sweet and salty, but not in a good way. Bars of something resembling bone ran along the roof. It almost looked like a form of reinforcement. He didn’t like this, but it was too late to turn back.

Ashley’s sniffles were loud in his ear as she held on like her life depended on it. She was trying to keep them quiet and failing miserably.

“Hey, not so loud. If there’s something in here, you’re gonna attract it,” he whispered snappily.

Pushing through the backroom door (which was also conveniently open), Russel set Ashley down on a chair, fumbling with the dead weight of her non-responsive legs. What a hassle. This couldn’t last.

His ears almost missed her quiet request. “Russel, please.”

Russel pretended not to hear her. Ashley had given up on concealing the tears. Her big, beautiful eyes locked with his own in a final plea. What really ticked him off was that she knew what he was going to do. Her body language said it loud and clear. He felt a little bad, but really, what did she expect? He needed a woman who could stand by his side, not some cripple to babysit. If the thing outside came knocking, why did it have to get both of them? He checked the back door, evaluating his options.

Locked.

The titanic entity had stopped right outside the shop. Russel locked the door through which they’d come.

“̷̱̳̻̥̀̉̈Ġ̴̛̯̥̓̾G̵̖̺̞̾̕G̸̛̯̻̮̅̈́͝G̵̞̖̠̽̽M̸̙͓̆̀̐͝M̸̡͖̭͗̀M̸̗͍̪͕̉̅̉͠M̴̝̺͖͈̋M̶̨̳̱͎͗̑͘M̴̳̣͕̏̑M̶͇̺͓̭͋̋̔M̵̡͐!̶̼̞̗̆̌͐̌”̸̲̮͜͠

Russel collapsed as the soul-chilling cry boomed through him. It seemed to go on forever. The shop shook. The roof peeled away and receded into the sky, hoisted by a tremendous tentacle.

Another tentacle loomed in and creatures descended on it. They brought to mind miniature ogres.

“Woohoo! Lookie dere!” whooped one of them. “We got ourselves some beef, fellas!”

Ashley stared in silent horror.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The nyctal’s eyes lit up upon seeing her. “Ooh, and some arm candy to- AAGH!”

Russel had blasted the nyctal with his flashlight.

*TWACK!*

A shock of pain.

He clutched his wrist. The flashlight flew out of his hands. Another creature reeled in the object that struck it: a serrated toothy thing that looked like a beak crossed with a probiscis. Its back end throbbed with a gelatinous bulb connected to the nyctal’s wrist by a long cord that brought to mind an intestine.

“Nice one, Mr. Licks!” commended the first as he landed. “That oughta teach the livestock not to-”

Russel punted the nyctal, who went squealing to the ground and skidded. He reeled upon another nyctal. This one caught his fist. Another punch. It was caught too.

“HA! For a second there I thought you were stron-!”

Russel yanked the nyctal’s chin into his knee. With his fists released, he gave the nyctal a quick one-two. The creature looked more stunned and surprised than hurt until, he too, got punted.

The first of the punted staggered to his feet, fumbling with his toothy probiscis. Before he could sling it, a larger nyctal put a hand on his weapon, easing it down.

“Everyone stop!” snapped the bigger nyctal. “We can use him.”

“W-wha?” stammered the would-be attacker. “B-but Mr. Brukup, my keychain is starvinnng!”

“Mr. Gripe, that sounds like a you problem,” Mr. Brukup sassed. “Besides, this is a feeding station and a recruitment centre. That man has potential.”

“NO!” cried Mr. Gripe. “My keychain gets what it wants!”

He twisted away from his superior’s grip. Swift and smooth, Mr. Brukup snatched his keychain and jammed it into the smaller nyctal’s side.

The nyctal gasped as his girth visibly shrank and the gelatinous bulb of his keychain grew. He collapsed to his knees, a frail shell of his former self.

“There. Is your keychain satisfied yet?” teased Mr. Brukup. “Or does it need another drink?”

Mr. Gripe could only muster the energy to shake his head, saliva flapping from his loose jaws.

“Pardon my associate,” The lead nyctal apologised, approaching Russel. “My name is Mr. Brukup, but you’ve probably picked up on that. We are the landlords: a dark horse faction of nyctals soon to run this fine city. We’re always looking for talented youngblood.”

The nyctal nodded at Russel’s physique.

“You’re exceptionally strong, for a normie,” he praised. “Imagine how strong you’ll be with a keychain? That’s just the tip of the iceberg if you join us. Whaddya say?”

Russel eyed the nyctal. Objectively, these weren’t particularly attractive creatures. Their immaculate business suits only drew attention to how strange they looked … but now that he thought about it, they could have looked worse. In fact, the look was starting to grow on him.

Mr. Brukup grinned. “Confused? That’s the pheromones kicking in. We call it ‘Status’. It’s like maxing out your charisma. Doesn’t matter if a landlord ain’t that pretty. People start to see you as someone who matters.”

Now, Russel was interested. Replacing Ashley might be easy with Status on his side. Besides, his looks would be enough to override some of their aesthetic shortcomings, right? They were built powerfully too. Pound for pound, these nyctals were stronger than he was. If they were once normal people, what would someone of his physique become?

He stared up at the eldritch building overlooking the shop. It stared back. Now that was power. It was practically a kaiju.

“Do I get to drive one of those?” asked Russel.

The landlord laughed. “Work your way up the corporate ladder and you might get your very own building, with your own staff! We treat our people fairly.”

Russel grinned and extended a hand. “You got yourself a dea-”

“AH! Hol’ up!” the nyctal interrupted, raising his hands and stepping back. “First, we need to evaluate your mindset, see if you fall in line with the landlord work ethic. Our buildings guzzle fuel like nothin’ else. Every joule counts, and every boon has a price. What could you offer us as an initiation tribute, hmm?”

Mr. Brukup’s eyes slowly shifted to Ashely.

Her face contorted with horror as she desperately glanced between Russel and the landlord, mouthing her boyfriend’s name.

Russel side-eyed the Mr. Brukup. “Seriously?”

Mr. Brukup shrugged. “We’ll take what we want regardless.”

“R-Russel!?” Ashley squeaked, her voice breaking.

Russel approached and knelt in front of her. He tried to look her in those gorgeous eyes, reddened by tears, but couldn’t.

“… Hey Ashes,” he began softly. “Look, I know it’s hard, but … ‘don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened’.”

She searched his eyes for anything that suggested he cared enough to do help. She found nothing.

Ashley’s despair morphed to wrath.

"Are. You. KIDDING ME!?” she shrieked. “YOU QUOTE DR. SEUSS AT ME AND NOW I’M SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY!?!”

Russel flinched back. “Whoa! Simmer down, Ashes! It’s not like I have a choice! I promise it won’t hurt!”

“It will, actually,” Mr. Brukup corrected.

Ashley fumed.

Russel shrugged. “Well, I’ll make sure you don’t have to feel it.”

He raised a fist to knock her out. It didn’t feel right to hit a girl, so he made his way behind her for a sleeper choke hold.

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” roared Ashley, striking out.

He jumped back, felt something dripping from his cheek and rubbed it off. Red. Her nail had caught him. Was she aiming for his eye?

The landlords began to snicker.

Russel’s ego was stung a bit.

“YOU convinced me to come out at night!” Ashley snarled. “Now I’m some SACRIFICE because YOU couldn’t protect me!? BARGAIN with them, or SOMETHING! Just TRY! PLEASE! Am I worth so LITTLE that you-?”

Russel pitched her out of the chair.

The landlords cackled.

“You can’t make this stuff up!” guffawed Mr. Brukup.

“Ashley, you’re crippled!” Russel hissed. “Even if we both got out of this, what use could I POSSIBLY have for YOU!? Don’t preach to me! Were we dating ‘cause I’m a nice guy? Don’t take me for a fool! You liked what you saw and went for it! THAT’S IT. I’m not some bleeding-heart square. I’m the guy who gets stuff done, the way it gotta be done.”

“But you were … nice to me …” whimpered Ashley.

He gave her a solid kick.

The landlords hollered all the louder.

“I was nice ‘cause you’re cute,” Russel spat. “Now? You’re just plain annoying.”

They tugged at his heartstrings. He decided he’d seen enough of her.

Russel turned to his new peers, grinning. “Women, am I right? Do what you gotta do, boys.”

Their laughter stopped.

Russel raised an eyebrow. How strange. A shiver ran down his spine.

Turning to the landlords, he noticed none of them were moving. The air was stiff and stale. He couldn’t even hear the ambient sounds of the city. It was as if everything had simply stopped, except for him.

He felt arms hug him from behind, recognising the perfume before having to look down at the dainty, polished nails.

Ashley … could walk??

“Thank you for being a monster,” came her purr. “Not just some nyctal. A real monster. Guys like you keep gals like me happy, and wel̴̩̫͚̲̀͐̏̃l fed̴͙̬̀́̍.”

The floors, wall and sky peeled away, revealing a mindscape of pulsing, squirming red and black. Memories of the present came crashing back in. Russel knew … oh, right … that wasn’t his name anymore. He was Mr. Brusque. He knew that he was already a landlord.

He knew that She had him.

Standing atop a disorienting sea of shifting red, he felt sweltering heat welling up behind him as something hissed, screeched and squelched. He didn’t need to look back, didn’t want to look, but curiosity got the better of him.

He looked back anyway.

She was everything he expected, but worse. Backlit by red, her warped silhouette branched out skin-crawling tendrils that fed into the mindscape itself. She was the sky, the unapproachable vastness beyond the horizon. However, he could feel the boiling, blood-thick void shift with her writhing body, as though she were mere inches before him. Intuition told him he could not touch her. She was too far. However, she could definitely touch him. The space between them was not space. Her hair spiraled out into complex concentric circles that seared at his mind. She was beauty. She was horror.

She was moving towards him.

“WAIT!” he commanded, raising his hands in a placative gesture. “I’ll be your guy on the inside!”