Mark twiddled his thumbs in the marble-floored waiting room of the Executive Floor at Cervantes Internationale, LA HQ. He was what one might describe as a bear-gay, tall, overweight, hairy, with red curly hair and a beard. He hated everything about himself, really. He spent most of his life trudging through work and waiting for weekends so he could play DND with his co-workers at the office. Now even that was gone.
He wondered when the guy would call him in. Sebastian Cervantes had asked for him first thing in the morning and two hours later he was still sitting here. The secretary was at her desk, painting her finger nails, wearing a slinky black dress, occasional fielding calls. To the left of the expensive leather couch he was sitting on was a glass pane offering a tremendous view of downtown LA.
A gargoyle-brutish and built like a linebacker-was on a platform next to him with an odd snarling expression carved into it’s face. It was odd. At first, he spent a minute trying to analyze why it was odd. Then he noticed it had a well-carved cock and balls and one claw was mid-stroke, the expression on the ghoulish face clearly one of lust and not a snarl.
“Weird,” Mark muttered, face going red.
It had been a busy week for him. First, someone had bought out his company. Then he was transferred to the new main headquarters in LA from his home town in Arizona. They’d set him up with a condo in the nice part of the city that wasn’t filled with homeless people and used heroin needles-two whole blocks in downtown where the rich people shopped, obviously. So it was very nice.
And now he was being called in to speak to the head honcho himself. He was more than a little afraid. Usually, when these things happened, it was because the boss was into bondage on the downlow, like in 50 Shades of Gay. Plus, Hollywoo, he supposed the casting couch was still a thing. But there were other reasons he was scared. Even just arriving, he’d heard rumors of what happened if you disappointed Mr. Cervantes. Which is to say, you disappeared. And Mark, who wrote urban adventures for his campaign, knew what that was a euphemism for.
He wished his cubicle neighbor, Troy, was here. Troy wasn’t in his DND game because it was too fantastical for him, but he played BattleAnvil. Troy was really level headed and smart, he’d know what to do.
There was a creak outside the window.
Mark turned to look and did a double-take.
The gargoyle had shifted positions somehow, turning towards Mark, gripping his cock with a lewd expression on its face.
Mark swallowed and gave it a thumbs up gesture.
“Mr. Vender?” The secretary asked, frowning at his thumbs up.
“Whu-?” Mark pretended to be squashing a bug with his thumb. “Oops, got it this time. Bug. Ew.”
“Right.” The secretary seemed non-plussed. “He’ll see you now.”
Mark heaved a deep breath and entered the doubledoors. The executive suite took up the top three floors. It was huge. Load bearing columns adorned with marble. Gold filigree everywhere. Marble. Lots of black marble. And a hearth-like fireplace. The wall where he had just entered was covered in a huge fish tank containing splendid and wondrous fish he’d never even seen before.
At the end of the long hall and equally long cashmere rug, was…a throne. Hi-tech, surrounded by monitors and equipment, but a throne nonetheless. Sitting on the throne (facing away from him, of course) was a man. The throne swiveled, revealing a handsome, fit Hispanic man that reminded Mark strongly of a famous Mexican actor whose name escaped him at the moment. Tony Bandit or something. Sebastian Cervantes smiled. It did not comfort Mark.
“Hello, Mark Vender. How’s the game?”
“Whu-what sir?”
“Your weekly DND game. I’ve heard so many things about it from your co-workers.” Sebastian gestured at a chair that rose from the floor. “Have a seat.”
Mark sat. “Um, it’s canceled. Because I moved.”
“What if I brought them all here?” Sebastian tented his fingers. “Would that make you feel better. I can snap my fingers and it’s done.”
“I’d really like to bring Troy here sir.” Mark spoke quickly. “He always has good ideas.”
“So I’ve overheard.” Sebastian smiled. “Describe him.”
“Um, brown hair. Slight beergut.”
“Human?”
Mark stared at his boss. “Yes?”
“Yes?” Sebastian grinned. “ You know, it’s strange. There’s very few people who remember this co-worker of yours.” Sebastian shuffled a few papers on his desk. “That you can remember him as human only verifies some information I came across the other day.”
“I don’t understand.” Mark trembled.
Sebastian clicked a remote.
On a TV, what looked like a camera recording happening at waist height, popped into focus. In it, A skunkman and a bullman and a dogman were standing around a table in a sex shop talking. Mark’s mouth dropped. It all looked so real!
“My minions were able to transmit this last conversation before a guard dog named Troy showed up and scared them off.”
“M-minions?” Mark chattered.
Sebastian snapped his finger. Out of the shadows stepped a few small reptilian humanoids that Mark identified immediately. Kobolds. His heart skipped a beat in terror and rising excitement.
“Yes Boss?” The leader, a red scaled kobold, asked.
“Do you recognize them?”
“K-kobolds, sir?”
Sebastian smiled. “Yes! Bravo Mark! Let’s watch the video. Well, just the relevant parts.”
*“Look, this guy is a wild card.” The skunkman was speaking. “He’s either a bored office worker with a mean streak or a murderous cartel leader with a twisted sense of humor. He can turn himself into a dragon and cast spells from above and we wouldn’t even know.”*
The recording stopped.
“Do you have a mean streak, Mark?”
Mark swallowed. “No sir.”
“What if I gave you this Book?” Sebastian held up the Book of Myth. “What if I gave you the power to turn the world into your personal DND homebrew?”
“That’s not possible, sir.” Mark was sweating. “I know the difference between fantasy and reality.”
“And if there was no difference?” Sebastian paused and pointed a Mark. “Shift.”
Mark’s ears pointed and his body thinned, leaving his clothes hanging off of him. His hair lengthened and his beard and body hair fell out. Finally, an Elf stood where Mark the Human had been previously.
“I…” Mark stared down at himself, tears filling up his eyes. “How? How did you know?”
“I read your profile, had you psychologically evaluated in secret based on recordings we took at your office.”
“That’s a violation of privacy!”
“So?”
“So? What do you mean-!”
“I have magic. Who’s gonna stop me?”
Mark stared at Sebastian. The fireplace cast his shadow along the wall behind him. The shadow wasn’t human. It had wings and horns and a tail.
“What do you wish of me, my lord?” Mark whispered.
Sebastian sighed. “First, we need to discuss what’s going on here, what the rules are and how to properly utilize this Book.”
“You’re giving it to me? Really?” Mark was flabbergasted.
“Conditionally. With a magically binding contract.” Sebastian grinned. “Let’s do that first, shall we?”
With a snap of his fingers, a burst of flame appeared in the air in front of Mark. Mark blinked at the sudden burst of light and when his vision returned, a very long scroll was hovering in the air in front of him.
“What’s it say?” Mark asked.
“You will never use the Book against me or my interests. In return I grant you the energy I currently have in order to reshape the world as you envision it to be. As long as it is a modern setting, I have no wish to return to shitting in an outhouse.”
“Right. Modern. Maybe Retro-Medieval style.” Mark nodded to himself.
“Let me finish. If you lose the Book, it will immediately return to my hands.” Sebastian clapped his hands and a an old, obese man with a beard and glasses appeared. “This is Gorge ZZ Barton, renowned fantasy author. He will assist you in creating a consistent world.”
“Gorge Barton? But that guy hasn’t even finished his own books!”
“Never will, kid.” Gorge shrugged. “Got bored of the story.”
“Okay, I’ll sign. Got a pen?” Mark asked.
“It’s not the kind of contract you sign with INK, Mark.” Sebastian’s eyes twinkled.
Mark bit his thumb and pressed it at the signature line of the contract. It disappeared. In its place was the Book of Myth. Mark reached out and grasped it.
The enxt hour was spent with Mark being caught up on the Book and all the little ins and outs that came with it. Paradox. Reality shifts. Mark made extensive notes. Gorge sat next to him snoring.
“Now go.” Sebastian smiled. “Change the world.”
Mark left, Gorge Barton waddling behind him.
Sebastian waited until they had left before he snapped his fingers again. A man sauntered out of the shadows where he had been watching. He was athletic, late thirties. Very familiar to Rusty and, once upon a time, Troy.
“Whatcha need, hoss?” The ruggedly handsome, nondescript man asked.
“Follow Mark. Make sure he doesn’t fuck up. And you can have as many women as you’d like.” Sebastian said.
"I want mah Book. Whores are a dime-a-dozen in this city."
"And you'll get it when the job is done, HOSS. I didn't resurrect you through foul magics for backtalk. Go!" Sebastian growled.
The man tipped his cowboy hat and left.
Sebastian smiled. He wondered how they'd deal with that. 'Sam' as he called himself, would definitely ignore his orders and try to kill Rusty and Troy for their transgressions against him. Well, it would certainly reveal the Book owner.
The phone rang. He picked it up.
“Yes?” Sebastian asked.
“They’re all on board sir.” Alexandros, a satyr he’d summoned, said. "RK, Troy, Rusty, Tex and an Intern."
“Intern?”
“Yes, Todd. Wolf, sir.” Alexandros said. “And he’s got cake, sir.”
“Right.” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Just make sure they have a good time. I’ll bring them to my estate. Be nice.”
“Yes sir.” Alexandros hung up.
Sebastian rubbed his hands together. All according to plan. One of them had the Book of Transfiguration. The rest were vulnerable to the reality shifts likely to be striking the city by the time they arrived.
When they investigated them, they’d find Mark.
“Moirai, oh Fates, continue blocking the foresight of Divination!” Sebastian intoned.
He had already summoned them before, they would answer his call now.
A cold breeze swept through the hall, carrying the voices of the Three Sisters of Fate.
“Your will be done, Master.”
They’d never know what hit them. Sebastian laughed.