Dude, That’s a Fucking Lion

They dashed through the narrow alleys of Tiraloa, which wound like a maze through the city’s shady underbelly.

“Damn it, which way did they go?” Marcus wheezed as they skidded to a stop.

“There!” Gus shouted, just catching the shadows of the thugs as they disappeared around the corner at the far end.

They bolted down the street until a rundown warehouse came into view. The big gate slammed shut just as they arrived.

Carefully, they crept closer, ducking under a side window and peeking inside, where Caeriel’s father was being shoved onto a chair and tied up.

Standing before him was a gaunt elf with slicked-back, oily hair, flanked by two meathead half-giants.

“This ends now. Nobody crosses Kurtus the Blade,” the gangster hissed.

Marcus muttered, “Oh, fantastic. He even name-drops himself. What kind of cheap gangster-movie knockoff is this?”

Caeriel’s dad spat blood and liquor onto the floor. 

“I’ll… get the money… I just need more time…”

A brutal punch cut his words short.

“You’ve had enough time! Now you’ll be made an example of.”

Marcus ducked away from the window. “Fuck. They’re gonna ice him!”

“Not if we stop them,” Gus growled, knuckles cracking.

“Wait!” Marcus grabbed his arm. “We’re just gonna barge in there? Without plan?!”

Gus shrugged him off with a feral grin. “Plans are for pussies. We’re busted as hell, remember? These clowns don’t stand a chance.”

Before Marcus could yell again, Gus’s demon arm punched through the gate, blasting it open with a thunderous crash.

“HEEERE’S JOHNNY!” Gus roared, stepping through the dust cloud like a pro-wrestler entering the ring. “Yo, sorry to crash the party, but that drunk bastard over there’s ours.”

The boss frowned, though he hardly looked surprised.

His enforcers loomed threateningly, but when Gus raised his demon arm toward them, channeling a beam of infernal fire, they froze in place.

“Smart move, boys. Stay back or I barbecue you right here.”

But the boss’s lips just curled into a long grin, mirrored by his thugs, before he burst out laughing, spreading his arms wide.

“Go on then. Fire away. Don’t hold back. Show us your strength.”

Gus blinked. “Uh… I’m not joking, dumbass!”

Marcus hissed through his teeth. “Why the fuck aren’t they freaking out? Gus, why are they not freaking out?!”

As the thugs advanced, Gus narrowed his eyes, snarled... and fired.

FWOOM.

A searing beam of green hellfire tore across the hall, frying beams, boxes, everything in its pathams and crates, striking the gangsters head-on.

But they just dissolved into mist, like smoke in the wind.

Marcus gasped. 

“What the fuck?”

Then, an explosion.

From the sides, glowing, magical spheres shot through the air too fast to dodge.

They burst in blinding flashes, wrapping around their arms, legs, and throats.

“UAAARGH!” Gus was bound on the spot, the power of his arm crushed by the blue chains biting into his skin.

“...the Fuck?!” Marcus struggled, but the more he fought, the tighter they constricted.

And then, Caeriel’s father rose.

No more wobbling, no more drunk act. 

He straightened, peeling off the ropes like they were string with a cold grin and calculating eyes.

“Don’t bother. Leyrunit shackles. Even demon fire won’t break them.”

Gus snarled, straining, but nothing budged.

The elf crouched beside Gus, eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“So these are the so-called heroes who defeated the Demon General? If I’d known you were this easy to fool, I wouldn’t have bothered with the act. Pathetic.”

Marcus’s throat went dry. “…Dude. He fucking knows us.”

Caeriel’s father grinned. “That’s right, Marcus. Prince Consort to Princess Liriel of Haltharan.” He nodded mockingly. “Not a bad catch you’ve made there.”

Marcus twisted his bound head toward Gus, confusion written all over his face.

“Can you PLEASE explain why Carrie’s old man just pulled a level-up from town drunk to Don Corleone?! ‘Cause I’m lost as hell.”

Gus growled. “That’s not her dad…” He narrowed his eyes. “…Right?”

His grin widened and the elf chuckled. “Well, look who finally gets it.”

Slowly, he began to clap, as his face melted away.

The illusion dissolved, revealing something else: A lion’s head, framed by a golden mane, fangs like knives.

“My name is Raukhar,” he rumbled, voice deep and vibrating, “and you… have walked straight into my trap.”

Gus just rolled his eyes.

“The slow clap? Seriously? Could you be any more cliché?”

Marcus’s face went slack. “…Dude. That’s a fucking lion.”

But before he could say more, something hard cracked against their skulls, darkness swallowed them.

---

Marcus groaned, head throbbing, as his eyes blinked open. Cold stone beneath him, the stench of damp earth and moldy barrels in the air.

“Ugh… where the hell are we…? At least I'm not naked and tied up again…” he muttered, sitting up as metal clinked. 

His arms were shackled behind his back, thick silvery chains glimmering in the dim light.

“…Okay. At least not naked. I’ll take that as a win.”

Beside him, Gus sat slumped, blood trickling from his brow, eyes half-closed.

“Son of a bitch…” he growled, immediately flexing his demon arm. “Come on, Handy! Rip this shit apart!” he bellowed, but nothing happened.

“Don't bother. That won’t work.”

The voice came from the corner, rough and tired.

Both of them jerked their heads.

Someone was huddled in the shadows, with matted hair, shredded clothes and a hollow face.

An elf.

Marcus’s eyes went wide and his blood boiled.

“You!” He lunged, tackling the man to the ground. “You bastard! That whole drunk act just to screw us over?!”

"Marcus, stop!” Gus barked. “That’s not the one who tricked us. It’s Carries real dad!”

Marcus froze mid-swing as confusion twisted across his face before he slowly let go.

The elf coughed, blinking at them with wide eyes.

“…C-Carrie? You… you mean Caeriel? Is she here? Please tell me she’s...”

“She’s safe, don’t worry,” Gus interrupted, his voice rough. “But you’d better start explaining what the fuck is going on.”

The elf sagged against the wall, forehead resting on his chains.

For a long moment, he said nothing, then his voice cracked out.

“That gangster boss… he forced me to write the letter. It had to be in my handwriting, to look real. He… he threatened me. I had no choice.”

Gus glared. “So it was all just to bait us here? For what exactly?"

Caeriel’s father shrugged helplessly. “I… I don’t know.”

“Tch.” Gus’s voice dropped to a growl. “Do you even realize how much shit Caeriel’s been through because of you?”

Silence.

Then the elf lifted his head, in his eyes nothing but guilt and exhaustion.

“When her mother died… I broke. I tried, Gods, I tried! But every smile, every step she took… all I saw was her mother all over again. I couldn’t do it. I was too weak. Instead of being strong for her… I ran.”

A bitter smile twisted across his face.

“She hates me. She should. Not a day goes by I don’t regret it.”

Marcus and Gus exchanged a long look, neither saying a word.

---

Moments later, the cell door slammed open, and Raukhar entered, eyes glowing with smug amusement.

“Well, little humans. Wondering why you’re still breathing?” He dragged a claw along the bars.

Gus stared him down, deadpan. “Because we’re such charming fellows?”

Raukhar let out a deep, throaty laugh. “Don’t flatter yourselves! All I want is gold. Mountains of it. And you...” he jabbed a claw at Marcus, “...are the perfect leverage.”

Behind him, two goons shoved a massive contraption into the room. Crystals pulsed across its frame, humming with unstable light.

Marcus blinked. “Oh fuck no. What the hell is that?!”

Before he could move, the thugs yanked him out of the cell and slammed him into the chair. Metal clamps bit into his arms, spines locking around his temples.

The crystals flared and a deep vibration filled the air, rattling Marcus’s teeth.

“Hey!” Gus rattled the bars so hard they screeched. “What are you doing to him, you oversized plushtoy?!”

Marcus’s eyes went wide as something icy clawed into his chest, dragging at his very being.

In front of him, light sparked and twisted, forming his own silhouette: his face, his voice, projected like some warped mirror image.

He gasped as the machine burned his likeness into a crystal.

Raukhar’s grin stretched ear to ear as he lifted the glowing gem.

“When your precious princess sees this, she’ll pay whatever price I demand. Hrrhrrhrr!” He turned to his lackeys. “Prepare the courier. This little gift goes straight to Haltharan.”

The thugs dumped Marcus back into the cell like trash.

Gus barely caught him. “Shit, dude, you good? They just made a fucking hologram of you! Who knew this world had that kind of sci-fi bullshit?!”

Marcus slumped against the wall, swallowing hard.

“I’m not worried about the tech… I’m worried what the Princess is gonna do when she gets that message!”