In the depths of that dank dungeon, a familiar moustachioed face was crying out in agony.

“You know how this works, dear!” Agnes Killy sung as she inserted yet another toothpick into Richard’s urethra, “Tell us the truth and this can all be over. All the pain, all the splinters… now wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I already told you, I don’t know!! AUGH!”

Lunchbox shuffled his feet awkwardly. He never knew how to behave in these interrogation sessions, all the screaming made him dreadfully uncomfortable. “Now Mister, uh, Dick, please be reasonable. We just want to know where the Troll is. Just tell us and we can all go home! Except for you of course. You’ll be dying a slow and agonising death. Is that so unreasonable?”

“Yes! Yes it is! Doesn’t this violate all sorts of human rights regulations!?”

“Those are more… suggestions rather than rules, dearest,” responded Agnes, “Ask any modern superpower.”

Richard was sweating like a pig under the burning fluorescent lights and above the burning metal plate he was sitting on. “For the last time, I DON’T KNOW! I tried to break him out of here, true! But I got shot! I don’t know who took him!”

“Then make something up, for Shaw’s sake!” cried Lunchbox, “Do you know how long I’ve been standing here!? We’re all tired and we all want to go home, so stop being so selfish!”

For the first time that afternoon, Reader Smith stepped forward from the wall he’d been leaning on and spoke “Forget it. The man doesn’t know. You might as well release him.”

“About time!” said Mayor Shaw, “I’m glad at least one of you has some common sense!”

“What? But I was having so much fun! What about the Troll?” asked the Confessor.

“Well, if someone was doing their job and actually watching him, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” cried Reader Smith. “What were you even doing, Agnes? I’ve heard you weren’t even present for most of the Troll’s questioning. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you of defecting.”

“Is that a threat, Reader?” Agnes gave him a big, warm, terrifying smile. “You of all people should know to pick your scapegoats better. After all, goats can bite.” She moved her surgical tray aside and sat on the low table. “Besides, I was busy. Complications came up, and I’m not as young as I used to be. You’ll understand one day, dear.”

Lunchbox, sensing the tense situation, decided to intervene before things got too out of hand. “Now guys, I’m sure this situation will all work out in the end, no need to argue! I’ll tell you what, let’s all go home, take a long shower, take the tubes out of our colons, and figure this out in the morning. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into the Troll again some other time. Heck, he could show up right now for all we know!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, your majesty, we’re in the Dungeon,” said the Reader. “Why would he return here of all places?”

“Reader! Confessor! Mayor Shaw!” cried a frenzied inquisitor as he barged into the room, “The Troll and Inquisitor Lawless have returned to the Dungeon! They’re wearing clown masks for some reason! Even though it’s pretty obviously them!” Behind him, the faint screaming of sirens could barely be heard. “We tried to get to you but this chamber’s soundproof! Get to the” The unnamed inquisitor didn’t get to finish his sentence, he was too busy being ripped in half.

“See?” said Mayor Shaw to the slack jawed others, “These things work themselves out.”

———————

“Hey, uh, Thom,” I said as the ex-inquisitor gunned down yet another three inquisitors, “I’m not an expert or anything, but I think we’re going the wrong way.”

Thom responded with a bestial snarl, flecks of foam flicking off his mouth.

“I don’t think your friend’s going to be too receptive to criticism right now,” noted the observant Katie from my back, “Looks like he’s in some sort of blood rage.” The wolfish Thom howled a scream more beast the man. “Yep. Textbook blood rage behaviour. Might want to stay out of his sight.”

*Click click* went his rifle. Thom’s blood-drunk brain stared at the exhausted gun for a few seconds, seemingly incapable of accepting that ammo was a limited resource. This cold fact of reality infuriated the man-beast. He howled at the moon-colored fluorescent lights and bit a solid chunk out of his rifle, then charged forward on all fours, tearing out a fleeing inquisitor’s jugular with his pearly whites in the process. Katie and I watched enthralled as he quite literally tore a hole in the inquisitorial forces, their bodies ripping like blood-flavored tissue paper.

“So. He clearly doesn’t need my help,” I said, “Let’s go grab a pint and wait for all this to blow over.”

“I know a nice pub down the road. I think it’s called the Winchester or something.” The dismembered member of an Inquisition member soared neatly past Katie’s face. “I remember a member shaped just like that one. Though it was still attached to the priest when we were introduced.”

Katie’s story was interrupted by Thom getting shot in the chest.

We watched the life drain from his eyes, watched him go from living being to inanimate thing, watched his body drop like a sack of flour. A frumpy little man walked out of the adjacent room, shotgun in hand. “See, this is why we need to increase the budget for the Inquisition, Your Majesty. They don’t even have guns!”

“B-but nunchucks are so much cooler!” replied a whiny noise from further inside the room.

“Hey, uh, Brad,” said Katie, “I’m not an expert or anything, but I think this is the part where we run.” I didn’t get to hear her argument for why, I was too busy breathing from all the sprinting.

“Wait Mr. Troll!” screamed the frumpy dwarf, “We don’t want to hurt you! We just want to talk!”

“Don’t listen to him, Brad. He’s a liar and a child molester. He also pees sitting down and wipes standing up.” I looked over my shoulder to find the midget sprinting after us. Fortunately, his legs were really short, so he couldn’t really move all that fast. Behind him waddled a fat walrus-shaped man, face gleaming with sweat.

“Wait for me, Reader!” screamed the Walrus, “The tube makes moving really awkward!” Even with our head start, we could still smell the hideous odor that seemed to seep from the Walrus’s every pore.

“Huh, it’s Mayor Shaw. I wonder what he’s doing here,” noted Katie as I died from overwork under her. “Why’re you slowing down? Now’s not the best time to be doing that, you know.”

“Tired!” I managed to gasp, “Out of shape!” I moaned almost inaudibly when remembering all the steep stairs we descended to get here.

Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, suddenly the floor vanished right under my feet. We fell right through the worn stone tiles onto a long slide, delivering Katie and me deeper and deeper into the colon of the dungeon.

After what felt like hours of sliding, we finally landed on a surprisingly soft pile of hay. I sat up and looked around wildly. The landing room was built like the rest of the dungeon, but considerably older. Mold and moss settled on the crumbling stone walls and floor, and two feeble torches fought their hardest to light up the room. The oak door can hardly be called a door with how rotten it was.

“Well, that was unexpected. Looks like we lost them, at least,” muttered the still-paralysed Katie from inside the hay. My neck hairs stood on edge when my ears told them that footsteps were coming from the other side of the door. Slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a mountain of a man. He was at least eight feet tall and bulging with muscle. As he stepped into the light, we could make out his pink latex thong and mask. Purple tassels hung from his nipples.

Lucifer approached us and offered me a hand. “Hope you like pain, bitch.”