The van containing RK, Troy and Rusty took its time, letting them see the sights. Drove to the HOLLYWOO sign, took some pictures, drove around the tar pits, more pictures. Stopped at the Walk of Fame. Pictures.
The driver-A Minotaur that would not take his eyes off of Rusty, much to Rusty’s dismay-pulled over at a burger stand-Bob’s Burgers-and the group enjoyed some lunch. Troy was suffering stomach cramps and ran off to the outhouse nearby. RK ordered for him.
“Aw, that’s cute of you RK.” Rusty smirked.
“Shut up.” RK growled. “He needs to eat.”
“Your ass.” Rusty sniggered.
“And if he does?” RK asked, defensive.
Rusty blinked. “Um, ah…”
RK crossed his arms. “Nothing to say to that?”
Rusty finished getting his toppings and wandered over to sit by the Minotaur. He had a thing for bullmen. So sue him.
“I like your tattoos.” The Minotaur said.
Rusty smiled. “Yes. My boyfriend does too. They are rather fetching.”
“Ah, a jealous boyfriend.” The Minotaur snorted. “I can do a three way. Greeks are good for orgies.”
“I’m a top.” Rusty shrugged. “Exclusively.”
“Are you big enough to-?” The Minotaur snorted in surprise when Rusty pulled down his pants. “Not bad for a Cynocephaly!”
“A what?”
“Dog-headed Man. The Egyptians worshiped one.” The Minotaur explained.
“Oh, no, I’m not a mythological creature, I’m a human who underwent gene therapy to become one.” Rusty waved his hand.
“What is difference?” The Minotaur waved his hooflets. “Your friend may be a bull man made through same technique but he is Minotaur by definition. Even skunk man could be Algonquin myth about animal peoples.”
“Hold up.” RK’s heart began to beat fast. “Are you saying we’re all Myths?”
“No different from me.” The Minotaur shrugged. “A common myth-conception.”
Rusty groaned. “Can he control us?”
“Not unless he summoned us.” RK said.
“But he invited us and we came…so isn’t that, like, the literal definition of the word ‘summon?” Rusty asked.
“Troy!” RK yelled.
Troy stumbled out of the nearby outhouse, toilet paper sticking to one of his paws. “Yes?”
“The exact wording on that e-mail he sent you. What was it?”
“Um, hold on, that was erased from reality…” Troy looked at his phone and frowned. “Unless it was sent by the Book owner. Because it’s still here in my inbox.”
“Shit!” RK paced. “Shit, shit shit-exact wording!”
“I, Sebastian Cervantes, do hereby Summon you and any friends you care to bring along, to the limits of ten and no more, as that’s how many passengers I can fit into the plane.” Troy read and squinted. “Uh, this next part is in tiny letters at the bottom I didn’t read.” Troy read it and grew nervous. “Any verbal agreements made thereafter will be taken as contractual and subject to universal liability I.e. Paradox should any party fail to uphold their obligations. To whit: the dog person named Troy shall become an employee, held to the same contractual terms as other employees and in return shall become a ‘movie star’. All other companions in attendance will be subject to basic employee rules until further negotiations are made.”
“That’s a fucking spell!” RK threw his hands up in the air. “He e-mailed a fucking summoning spell! And you SIGNED IT!”
“I was HIGH!” Troy stamped his foot.
“Oh, yeah, he’s a wily devil.” The Minotaur shrugged. “Don’t worry. If you don’t give him back talk, you’ll like working for him. Look, he promised me a companion and, well…” The Minotaur gestured at Rusty. “I’ll take him.”
“Like hell!” Rusty snarled.
“Don’t!” RK grappled him. “You’ll violate the contract!”
“Name’s Asterion.” The Minotaur said to Rusty. “And I think you are handsome.”
Troy sighed. “Asterion. What do we do about this?”
“You are subject to his EOE, obviously. No physical or verbal assaults are allowed against Sebastian or any employees. As a representative of Cervantes Internationale, you are required to maintain decorum at any public facing event. Each infraction invokes Paradox. If you choose not to obey office etiquette, you become more loyal.” Asterion continued. “Intentionally harming or damaging him or his reputation is not permitted. Theft is not permitted.”
“Can he transform us at any time?” RK asked.
“No. That requires a severe violation of the rules.” Asterion replied.
“Hold on,” Troy rubbed his temple, “You said you were entitled to a companion, it doesn’t need to be Rusty, right?”
The Minotaur smirked. “Correct. But it likely will be.”
“But it’s wrong.” Rusty growled.
“Not really, Rusty.” Troy sighed. “Reality alteration did that. It’s no more real than what you and Troy had.”
“How does this work then?” Rusty growled, turning to Asterion. “He just orders us around now?”
“No.” Asterion smiled. “You negotiate. Later, tonight, you will have dinner in your ‘airbnb’-your permanent residence, actually-and if you fail to properly dictate your terms…things can get bad for you.”
“How good is he at contract negotiation?” RK asked.
“He’s contracting with Demigods and Devils.” Asterion shrugged, “And getting the upper hand. Now, let’s go to your new home, shall we?”
The group finished their lunch and piled into the van. Everyone was thinking the same thing: How could they weasel out of this agreement without becoming a permanent subordinate?
As they drove through town, they noticed LA had changed. While there were still humans-40%, at a guess-The rest of the population had changed into fantasy races. Elves, Dwarves, Bugbears, Leonin, Lupine, orcs, goblins, Kobolds, gnomes now bustled down streets that seemed medieval. Neon lights and signs glowed from moss covered stone towers with the latest advertisements.
“Are you guys seeing this?” Troy asked.
Everyone nodded.
“This is wrong.” RK stared. “This is the timeline Mark gained the Book of Myth.”
“Mark…” Troy frowned. “Sounds vaguely familiar.”
“He was an officer worker who was your cubicle neighbor.” RK shrugged. “You were strangely nice when you defeated him, gave him what he wanted. Though you did lose a few times in rather interesting ways.”
“Is that what you get off on?” Rusty rolled his eyes.
“No, Time gets off on that.” RK grimaced. “That perverted old fucker.”
“Okay, but Sebastian definitely has the Book, right?” Troy asked. “Because if he doesn’t have it any more, that contract should be null and void.”
“The magic was expended.” RK shook his head. “We triggered it like a trap by taking the plane here. A cause and effect spell. You probably didn’t even have to sign it. By taking the plane, it served as a tacit agreement to the contract.”
“I expected the reality shift to be more hap-hazard.” Tex mused. “Looks rational and orderly to me.”
“He was always good at world building.” Troy shrugged. “Sebastian probably made a contract with stipulations with Mark before he ever let him touch the Book.”
“Asterion, where are we going?” Rusty asked.
“Studio Village.” Asterion replied.
“You mean Studio City, right?” RK asked.
The Minotaur shook his head. “Nope. You’ll see.”
They turned down a street and they were there. RK gasped. What had once been a strip of lower LA had been transformed into something more like a Theme Park modeled after Medieval Times. Asterion pulled into the employees only lot and checked them in, giving them all badges.
The sights inside the park were dazzling, to the point of overwhelming the senses. Magic-real, actual magic-was everywhere. The place hummed with it. Candy was being sold that made Billy Bonka and Jerry Plotter’s look tame in comparison. Gingerbread men that screamed when eaten…with delight. That was the stand-out, really. Many were ripoffs of the aforementioned fantasy series, once Troy got a good look at them.
Vendors had set up in the streets, touting custom magical items and equipment.
“What is this place?” Rusty whispered to Asterion.
“They train exotic animals for the movie industry here.” Asterion nodded at the various enclosures all throughout the park. “There’s little shows they put on. We don’t have time to view any right now, maybe later.”
“Oh.” Rusty was disappointed.
“Ya know what?” The Minotaur snorted. “I’ll give you an hour. Then meet up at the Magic Tent. They’ve got a performance we can catch before we get you settled in at your airbnb.”
They nodded and wandered off.
-=-=-=-=-=
Troy was drawn to a stand where a Red Kobold was selling thick collars. RIDING DRAGON COLLARS! 25% OFF! The sign in front of it proclaimed.
“Does sir wish to buy collars! Get one for all friends, yes? Ride through LA in style!” The Kobold yapped excitedly.
“Are you selling the Dragons?”
“Not yet! Sir can pick the collar and breed!” The Kobold eyed Troy’s own collar. “Or one can wear it one’s self and have naughty night with Owner, eh?”
Troy blushed. “I’ve got the money. Give me five collars, each from the most expensive breed.”
The Kobold gathered a few collars. “That’ll be $500 grand!”
Troy’s jaw dropped. “Five hundred thousand dollars for a collar?”
“Dragon guaranteed with each purchase!” Kobold drew himself up. “Eventually. Must be trained. Takes long time. Riding Dragon comes with warranty. Good for 1000 years or 750,000 miles on highway. Taxes and fees may apply. Consult local Law Office or DMV for details.”
The Kobold paused and then yapped rapidly. “Allpoliciesaresubjecttoterminationatrightholdersconveniencerightholderisnotheldliableforanyaccidentaltransformationsthatmayresultinusingsaidcollarascollarisintendedforridingdragonsonly.”
“What?” Troy blinked.
“Just legal disclaimer.” the Red Kobold shrugged. “Use at own risk.”
“Erm…”
“It is DRAGON!” The Kobold yapped. “Do you not want DRAGON?! Sexy, mid-life crisis averting DRAGON? Pick up VIRGINS on DRAGON!”
“Well I don’t want to have one of those mid-life thingies…” Troy mused. “Do you take checks?”
“Card or money order only.” The Kobold said. “Taxes due on delivery.”
“Sure, fine. Here.” Troy gave the Kobold his card.
“Want custom detailing?” The Kobold asked. “Air-conditioned saddle?”
“How much is that?” Troy asked.
The Kobold smiled. “Sir should not concern himself with price now.”
Troy sighed. “Fine. Show me the custom scale-jobs.”
The Red Kobold grinned and offered him designs that looked like they’d been sprayed on by professionals, but clearly natural, somehow. Skulls, flames, souls of the damned. He frowned. Choices choices, choices.
----------------
While Troy was preoccupied with the Riding Dragon salesman, Rusty was eagerly inspecting all the enclosures. A monstrous spider reared back on it’s hind legs and hissed, fangs dripping poison at the crowd. Dire beasts of all types paced restlessly in their cages. Unicorns pranced around the park-with security standing nearby in case someone tried to sheer a horn off. They were an endangered species after all.
Gryphons and bicorns gave rides to children. Owlbears growled and juggled and balanced on balls. A snake bit its own tail and rolled around the enclosure. There was so much to see here and judging by the quickly setting sun, so little time.
Then he came to an enclosure that was empty. The sign in front of it said CEREBRUS, TERROR OF THE UNDERWORLD. Rusty frowned. He’d wanted to see it.
“Yeah, the owner of the Park had him moved to his own private residence.” A voice spoke behind him.
Rusty glanced behind him. An older dwarf was smoking his pipe and watching him. The smoke held a strangely lovely cherrywood and wine scent. Rusty smiled.
“Too bad, I really wanted to see him.”
“Not much to say about it, really. Big three-headed dog.” The dwarf shrugged and held out a hand. “Name’s Trammel.”
“Rusty.” Rusty shook the man’s hand. “You the trainer?”
“One of ‘em.” The dwarf puffed smoke in Rusty’s face, making him cough. “Sorry. You a Cynocephaly?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Rusty agreed.
“Well, there’s a position open on my team if yer willing to train…” The dwarf mused.
“Ah, I’m a police officer.” Rusty shrugged.
“Just means you know how to obey orders.” Trammel smiled. “Last guy didn’t make it. Spider ate ‘em.”
“When…could I start?” Rusty asked.
“Soon as you’d like.” Trammel snorted. “Do I look busy to you?”
Rusty looked around. Where were the others? He looked back at the Dwarf, who had extended his hand.
Rusty shook it. “Tomorrow morning.”
“Be here at 6am sharp. I’ll let you in through the employee entrance.” The dwarf smiled. “Can’t wait to see what you can bring to the table, Rusty!”
“Do you mind if my friends tag along?”
“Not at all. I’ll get their measure. Can’t say if they’ll be hired.” The Dwarf shrugged.
-=-=--
RK was furious. This place was obviously a trap. Anyone could see that except those two idiots. They’d immediately wandered off, on their own.
“Studio Village Fashion!” And Elf called. “Enchanted clothing! No smells, no dirt, no stains! Guaranteed to fit any size! That’s right, magical tailoring!”
RK stopped, tail flicking in curiosity. More than a few outfits caught his eye. There was some top-shelf stuff here. Some of the fabric was in colors his mind couldn’t comprehend. The designs were fabulous.
“You look a bit under-dressed, my friend.” The Elf said, walking over to him. “Perhaps a formal wear outfit or one of our summer catalogue items might interest you. Cologne, perhaps?”
“What could you see me in?” RK asked.
“Anything?” The Elf licked his lips. “The clothes make the man, as they say. And between you and me, I could see you in nothing at all.”
The Mephit’s cock hardened. This Elf was quite persuasive. “They’re all cursed, right?”
The Elf shrugged. “You didn’t catch the ‘clothes make the man’ reference I threw out? Of course. Still, I can give you something that might appeal to you if you gave me something that might appeal to me.”
“Like?” RK mused.
“You are in dire need of anti-magic protection. I can feel something blocking you. A great power. If you had an Amulet of Nondetection, you could use your powers again.”
“How do you know I can see the future?” RK asked.
“I don't know, maybe because you radiate Divination Magic?” The Elf shrugged. “Uncommon. Quid Pro Quo. I don’t give you a cursed item that turns you into someone else, and you use your power to get me out of this stupid contract.”
“Sebastian, right?” RK said. "He's your contract holder?"
"Yes." The Elf frowned. “We’re all under contracts. You and your friends are targets. You need to be careful.”
“Agreed.” RK held out a hand and the Elf shook it.
“Let’s go to the back. You don’t mind being the bottom, do you?”
RK smiled. “For an Elf as refined as you? Absolutely.”
The Elf smiled and led him to the back of the tent.
-=-=-=-=-=
“Sir, they’ve all fallen for bait.” The Minotaur whispered into the phone.
Strange, wonderful devices, phones.
“Good.” Sebastian chuckled. “If they do survive, let them stew until tomorrow. I’ll make it a lunch thing.”
“Yes Sir.”
“If they lose themselves, grab the Books, please.” Sebastian added. “It would be a headache to have to track down and kill the new owners.”
“Sir. I’d like Rusty, Sir.” Asterion said.
“Oh? But there’s a bullman named Tex you can have.” Sebastian said.
“He’s a bottom sir. It would never work out.”
“Very well.” Sebastian sighed. “Once I have the Books, you can have him.”
“Sir.” The Minotaur acknowledged and hung up the phone.
He waited to see if any of them would make it to the Magic Show. Then the real fun would begin.