Disclaimer:
You are hereby prohibited from viewing the following materials if it is contrary to the laws of your jurisdiction to do so.
You are further prohibited from copying, distributing or in any way using the written materials of the author without his prior written consent to do so.
All that aside! Please enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated. The author can be reached at corporeal09@yahoo.com
Shayne opened his eyes and looked around. He could feel a slight rocking sensation, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.
"The subway?" he groaned as he slowly stood up. Looking around, he could see that the cab was empty, save for him. "Shit," he sighed, "How the hell?"
Absently, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Where had he been, just now? As he stood there wondering what was going on, a bright, glaring, orange light hit his eyes suddenly. Shayne shielded his eyes with one hand and squinted out the window.
Sunset?
He blinked rapidly as he approached the window, careful to time his movements with the rocking of the old subway car. Outside, he could see the brilliant amber light of a beautiful sunset staring back at him through a single flaring eye.
"What the hell is going on-?" he asked himself, looking around the subway car.
He nearly stopped breathing as he looked down. Just below the car, and as far he could see, lay endless fields of ocean. The flaring light from the sun caught the calm waves, and dyed them a breathtaking shade of orange-crimson, mixed with tidal blue.
They were miles above the water!
Quickly he raced to the front of the subway car.
There was the only one.
It was the only car on the track. Far below, he could still see the sparkling orange ocean, but in front he could see two thin rails floating in the air. As they traveled forward, the two rails seemed to form a foot or so in front of them, seconds before the car raced over them.
He ran to the back of the car. Straining to look downwards, he watched in awe as the two thin rails vanished into nothingness a few feet after the car passed, like streamers of scattered dry snow on Winter roads.
Shayne sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Am I dead?" he asked himself, "Or just on some hardcore shit?"
"Hee hee hee."
He spun around. "Who...Who said that?" he asked. Shayne quickly reached down to his hip holster, but stopped abruptly.
Blood?
There, on the front of his navy blue uniform, bloomed a large, dark-red and crimson stain. Shayne swallowed hard and reached down one more time. He absently ran his hand over the fabric, feeling the cooled and clammy crimson liquid still sticky on his fingers.
In one motion, Shayne closed his eyes tight and swiftly tore the shirt open. Buttons flew through the evening light, each landing with deafening noise.
"Hee hee hee," the small voice rang out again.
Shayne's eyes snapped open again, "Who the fuck's there!?" he yelled, reaching for his side arm. "Show yourself!".
He felt the familiar weight of his gun against his hip. His hand rested there as if it just needed the comfort.
"You're funny," a playful little voice cooed. Shayne blinked rapidly, trying to watch the shadows from the setting sun splaying through the car. As a shadow from the subway car passed through the front of the car, a small child's silken dress came into view. Only the parts of her body that were enveloped in shadow were visible.
"What the hell?" Shayne's eyes snapped forward, a small bead of sweat ran down his cheek as he gaped.
The little girl had no head.
"What the hell is going on!?" Shayne repeated, finally pulling his gun from its holster, and aiming it forward. His hands were shaking as he held the body in his sights.
"You're funny," the small voice repeated. "Drysela only wants to play."
"What the fucking hell is going on?" Shayne yelled. His voice betrayed the fear that was building inside of him. So much for all that police training.
He could see that the girl's right hand resting on a lever that rose up from the floor of the cab, while the other held some sort of object that Shayne couldn't see.
Again, with that creepy giggle.
"Am....Am I dead?" He asked, taking a tentative step forward, but not lowering his weapon.
As he neared the headless girl, the shadows danced in the car, both hiding then exposing the child's body, until the object in her hand became clear.
Her head!
The child was holding her severed head in one hand! It turned around slowly, rubbing against the material of her dress as it struggled, and looked at him with large green, childlike eyes.
".....Uuugh!!..." Shayne stumbled backward.
"We're almost there, mister," the girl giggled, the small head tilted up to look at him with a smile, before she pulled the lever and all hell broke loose.
The car suddenly leapt from the rails and began racing towards the endless ocean, far below. Shayne stumbled backwards and tried desperately to grab a hold of a nearby bar. His gun was lost in the turbulence as the car fell like a brick, tumbling forward over itself at an odd angle.
Shayne's eyes were streaming tears upwards in a kind of self-pitying fountain. The front of the car tilted still further forward, revealing an island far below as they fell.
This was it. This was how it was all going to end?
Shayne looked up as they kept falling. The girl at the front of the car looked back at him calmly, her floral print dress wasn't even ruffled despite all the rushing air and stray, flying objects and bits of trash. The severed head looked back at him with a sort of amazed contemplation, like she couldn't quite figure him out. The feeling would have been mutual, if not for Shayne's sense of impending doom.
He clenched his eyes shut, his entire body was screaming in terror. Any minute now they'd hit that water, or that island. It was coming up so fast, they'd hit....They'd hit it anytime now.... and then.....Nothing.
Nothing....
Only, it really wasn't the nothing that he had expected. Slowly, Shayne unglued himself from the pole and looked around. The car was resting on its side, but it no longer appeared to be moving. The little girl was gone, and everything was eerily quiet. The bits of trash were gone, and yet the subway car itself didn't appear to be damaged, or smashed up at all from the fall.
Slowly, and tentatively, he crawled from the runaway subway car and collapsed onto the ground outside with a resounding 'oomf'.
Shayne could feel grass under is head as he laid sprawled out there for a moment, trying to let his brain and other vital organs catch back up, or at least stuff themselves back into the right places inside his body.
Before any of that could happen, he heard a rumbling. Shayne had only just enough time to roll out of the way, before the subway car seemed to jump up on its own accord. The demonic transportation device jumped into the air, and span around as if righting itself.
Shayne rubbed his eyes as the car seemed to shake itself like a dog trying to dry off after a summer rain. In seconds, the car landed once more on impossible rails in the sky and, before Shayne could blink twice, it was speeding its way back into the sunset, climbing higher over the water.
"Well fuck me," Shayne muttered, clutching his throbbing head. As he stumbled back, he ran a hand absently down his well-defined chest, brushing the small flecks of blond chest hair as it went.
Shayne stopped and looked down. While it was true that his uniform was tattered and bloody, his skin underneath was whole, unblemished and taut. Somehow this seemed less startling, given the subway ride from hell, and that creepy little girl.
He sat up. The island had seemed much larger in the distance, but now Shayne could see that it was almost entirely covered in a massive old mansion. White columns and strange, ancient looking architecture greeted him as he started walking towards the building.
'Should I expect to see a giant talking rabbit? Or a grim reaper?' Shayne idly wondered to himself.
Somehow he didn't have the energy to be suspicious, or covert. Well that, and the fact that his gun was probably speeding away from the island right this very second, carried by a crazed subway car piloted by a vanished, headless freaky little munchkin. Either that, or the gun was still sinking in the endless orange/red ocean. 'Come to think of it,' he paused, looking back, 'is it always sunset, here?'
He sighed, and kept walking.
As Shayne walked slowly up to the main gate he could see suits of oddly medieval armor adorned the sides of the large entranceway. While the outside may have looked forlorn and disheveled, the inside of the building was entirely different. It was like he was stepping into an entirely different world. The door was wide open so Shayne let himself in.
"Oomph," a feminine voice called out as she bumped into Shayne, "I'm so sorry," she said.
Shayne straightened up, looking back, "N...No it was my fault," he stammered, "I..." In his mind she was gorgeous, her wavy dark brown hair framed her face almost perfectly as she almost reflexively pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Um, what is this place?" he asked. "I...I got lost, and..." There were tons of business-like people milling about. They all looked normal except for what they were doing. One was having a fight with a filing cabinet except the filing cabinet was winning. Another was trying to squish herself into a normal waste paper basket and was somehow managing to fit.
Shayne's mouth fell open as he looked around in awe.
The woman adjusted her large, thin-framed glasses before speaking, "Oh you're not lost," she said, "Everyone ends up here. We don't have a choice" Shayne noticed for the first time as she spoke her small pair of whitish-purple gloves that looked out of place as she held a large stack of loose papers.
"Come again?" he asked, as she was trying to adjust the pile of papers in her arms.
She started to speak but, before she had a chance to explain, a large bell tolled somewhere far above the large vaulted ceiling. Everyone in the busy entrance way stopped and looked up for a second. The rustling and milling of papers stopped, even some stray papers that floated through the air seemed to ponder the ominous old bell.
"Oh!" the woman squeaked, "I...It's too late! Oh...oh I'm going to be late, again," she stammered.
With that, she raced off as best she could, the impossibly large stack of papers occasionally losing one or two stray sheets as she scuttled away. Within seconds, the entire front entrance way was deserted.
Shayne's eyes surveyed the chaos and paperwork that was still strewn all over the sides of ornate looking old, wooden desks. He turned completely around, disbelieving what he was seeing.
"Where the fuck am I?" he wondered aloud, finally walking to the back of the large room. There was an impossibly large doorway with smaller, normal sized doors embedded near the bottom for some reason. Again, the doors were made of a heavy dark wood with detailing that spoke of its age, and expense.
"I'm supposed to be here, am I?" he asked himself, running a hand over the smaller door to the right of the large gate, "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"
"It means exactly that, or is that too much to understand for you, ya jackass!" An oddly shrill voice snapped.
Shayne jumped back, "What the hell?" he could feel colour rise in his face. "Hey ! Who? Who said that?"
"Oh great! The little bugger is blind, AND dumb," he voice said. "Why the hell do we always get stuck with the pond scum?"
"Hey! Pond scum? Just where do you get off, asshole!"
"Well, you better not get off here, you sex pervert!" the shrill voice continued. "The last thing I need today is to be showered with your disgusting baby-batter!"
"Sex pervert!?"
"I was right, you ARE a dumbass."
"Why you-" Shayne growled from between his teeth, "Come out here and say that, you little chicken shit." He tried the door. It was locked tight. He pulled on the handle, but it was shut fast.
"Oh!" the voice replied, "I'm shaking now, asshat! What? You can't work a doorknob? Bring it on, shorty! Bring it on! I'll fuck you up!"
"Come through the door and tell me that to my face, you little prick," Shayne spat.
"Ooooh, real funny, asshole."
"Why you little prick..."
"Little prick?" the voice almost choked. "I got more wood than you, ya little pecker-head. By the looks of the bread in your basket, someone forgot to add the yeast!"
Shayne's face was now beet red, "Why you!..."
"Oh...I'm shaking now, aren't I, jackass... Hey! Wait a sec! Hey! NOOO!" The voice squeaked higher and higher, before Shayne finally heard a soft click. The door to the right slowly opened.
"I have you now, you piece of shit!" Shayne charged the door with his fists raised.
"Mr. Koss?" A soft feminine voice asked. Her voice seemed almost like a soft, sad, love song.
Shayne stopped mid-stride, and stared as an impossibly skinny woman stepped through the door and regarded him with a brown clipboard in one hand. She was rail thin, but still somehow shapely. That wasn't the half of it. Her body was covered with strips of off-white fabric, like some kind of mummy. Even her face was mostly covered, save for her blood red lips.
"Mr. Shayne Koss?" she asked again.
"No sense talking to this one, V," the strange shrill voice laughed. "He's a few buns short of a..."
"That's enough now, Jimmy," she said softly.
Amazingly, Jimmy's voice stopped.
The woman covered in the long strips of fabric seemed to look at Shayne expectantly, even though her eyes were covered. "Shayne?"
He blinked twice rapidly before finally speaking, "....um yeah," he said, "That's me."
She nodded. "I'm Viorel. Please do follow me." As she moved, the loose streamers of fabric seemed to dance behind her all on their own. Not only that, but her legs were wrapped tightly together, yet she seemed to glide forward, rather than walk.
Shayne followed along, obediently.
"Yeah..... Keep walkin', buddy," the voice sneered as he passed the door.
"What the hell is with this place," Shayne breathed as he turned away from the door and towards the subsequent hallway.
"You're halfway to the beyond," she said looking back at him with a smile. Her movements were graceful and languid as she glided through the expansive hallway. Oddly decorated, yet ornate and tasteful, old paintings and murals decorated the sides of the halls. There were offices and such on either side that seemed disjointed given the ancient feel and ambiance of the surroundings.
"Then," Shayne asked, stopping, "I...I'm dead, aren't I?"
Viorel stopped and looked back. Even her more abrupt movements seemed graceful somehow, "Why do you say that, Mr. Koss?"
"Well...." Shayne held his left arm in his right and thought for a second. "First of all, nothing makes sense here."
"Let's keep walking, shall we?" Viorel smiled back at him. "We can do both at once. It's more efficient that way wouldn't you agree?"
"Shayne opened his mouth, "Uhh... Both of what exactly?"
She smiled. "We still have a long way to go yet."
Shayne nodded and suddenly felt very small. Like an errant child scolded by kindness, he followed along behind her.
"Now," she smiled, "you were saying?"
"Well... I mean aside from the strange disembodied voices, the headless little girls with psych ward laughter, and the demonic floating subways cars, I'm either dead or crazy."
Viorel was still nodding as they walked. "I see that you met Drysela," she said brightly.
"Umm...."
"She's a very good little girl, isn't she?" she continued. "She's been driving that subway car for so long now. It seems like she's always been there."
"But," Shayne asked as they kept walking through the hallway, "But that still doesn't explain anything."
Viorel nodded again, like some sort of sexy mummy version of a bobble-head. "You're quite right," she replied. "Perhaps I am not the best person to qualm your fears."
"I don't follow."
"You're to meet the director very soon," she told him. "I'm sure that he can answer all of your concerns and questions."
"Director?"
"Why yes," she kept walking. "You have an appointment with him, and you're very nearly late, I dare say."
"Late?" Shayne shook his head. "Just...who is this director, then?" Shayne asked, as they walked past an expensive looking vase sitting on an old wooden table. Shayne nearly jumped. He could have sworn that the vase had winked at him.
"You'll see for yourself in a matter of moments, Mr. Koss. We're going to see him now," Viorel stated, stopping in front of a large door with a frosted glass face.
Shayne just looked at her with an open mouth and an odd look to his eyes. She knocked three times, and waited. While she waited, Viorel tried to smooth out the ruffles and wrinkles in the small tresses of fabric that lined her body, as if they were nothing more than an ordinary skirt.
Apparently satisfied, she nodded at him once more. "This way please, Mr. Koss," she said before pressing against the frosted glass.
Shayne watched speechless as she vanished through the glass itself, like she was passing through water. After a second, the glass returned to normal like a pool of water calming down after being roughly splashed.
He reached out for the doorknob and...nothing. It wouldn't budge. He fiddled with the knob in frustration for a few more seconds. Shayne took a deep breath and slowly reached a hand down towards the glass portion of the door. Just before his hand was about to reach the pane of glass, he saw something flicker behind the material.
Instantly, a white strip of material vaulted through the glass and wrapped three times quickly around his wrist. Before Shayne could react, he was being pulled through the barrier, and his head snapped back as he felt himself hit the glass. The material parted and he felt himself passing through something that felt remarkably like the fine spray of a cold shower, mixed with bits of stinging gravel.
Then, as quickly as it had begun, he felt himself standing on his own. The latch of fabric was gone for around his wrist and he felt his clothing for a moment before realizing that they were dry. Save for the blood, anyway.
"This is Mr. Koss, sir," he looked forward to see Viorel speaking to someone just out of view.
His vision cleared as he tried to focus on her voice. There was something odd in the air, and he could feel other people mulling around nearby. He felt the presence of moisture in the air, and heard the shuffle of exposed skin rubbing together. When Shayne's knees recovered and his head cleared, he looked around.
He was standing in a locker room!
Rows of battered old lockers were everywhere, and men of every age and build passed this way and that. There were small pools of stray puddled water laying around on the floor.
He could hear Viorel speaking again, but he couldn't quite see her anymore. Shayne looked back at where he had come from, but the door was no longer there! It was gone. Completely vanished. He reached back and felt along the wall, trying to find the 'cold-shower and bits of crap' glass.
"I...I've....gotta be dead," he muttered to himself.
"The director will see you now," Viorel said from directly behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.
"Oh!" he said, spinning around. "O....Okay. But where are we? What?"
She laughed lightly into the back of her hand, "I'm sure that the director will answer all of your questions, Mr. Koss."
"Please call me Shayne."
"Shayne," she nodded, "The director will bring you up to speed and explain your assignment, and your new partner to you."
"My what and what!?"
She forged on ahead. "Be mindful of what you say when you meet him though, Shayne." She turned to fiddle with one of the lockers for a second as she spoke. "Do try not to upset him," she looked back for a moment and Shayne could swear that her voice and expression, had it not been covered with fabric, had taken on a hard and firm edge.
He swallowed hard.
"Now," she smiled, the edge and serious tone were now gone. "If you'll excuse me, I have three hundred and seventy five other appoints to attend to within the next five minutes so," she reached her hand into the locker, "ta!" All at once, her body dissolved into a heap of fabric and linen that slowly fell to the floor.
Shayne stepped back, his face bore a look of shock and horror. "Wh...What the fuck!?"
Just as quickly as it had happened, the fabric gathered itself up and streamed back into the locker at a shocking speed. As the last of the fabric passed into the locker, the door slammed shut behind it with a resounding SLAM! that echoed throughout the now deserted locker room.
Shayne had recoiled up against the far wall, and was now sliding down its length to end up sitting in a fetal position. "Oh god..." he sighed.
A sharp, masculine voice stirred him from his reverie. "Mr. Koss?" he said. "I haven't got all day now, son. Come here and let me get a look at you." Shayne could see the distorted shadow from around the corner as the man spoke.
Slowly, reluctantly, he got up and began walking around the lockers, his heart thundering in his chest. "I'm sorry, sir," he was saying, "but..." As he rounded the corner he stopped.
He could see a larger, out of shape man in his late fifties sitting on the bench. His lower body and abdomen wrapped in an off white towel. "Now, was that so hard?" the man asked with a jovial laugh.
Shayne could feel his face colour, "Sorry," he said finally. "I wasn't sure what to expect."
This set the man off to a round of more snickering and laughter. "Sit your ass down here, kid," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
"Thanks," Shayne said, sitting on the slatted bench and feeling somewhat out of place.
"Now," the old man crossed his arms and closed his eyes, "You're probably wondering if you're dead, am I right?"
Shayne's back straightened up quickly,"...Uh...yeah," he said quickly.
"Well....To tell you the truth, that's a hard one, kid."
"What do you mean?"
"The short answer is no, you're not dead," the old man continued.
"Then what's the long answer?" Shayne asked.
"The long answer is that, well.....you're kinda dead," the old man slapped his knee he was laughing so hard by the time he finished.
Shayne's face screwed up into a mixture of rage and pain, "What!? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
One corner of the old man's mouth twisted up into a lopsided smile, "It means that you'll have to see for yourself."
"What?" Shayne asked, leaning forward now. Talking quickly he added, "Why the hell can't you tell me, you old fart?"
The man laughed even louder before eventually calming down., "The real question here, boy, is whether you'd even believe me if I told you."
"What do you mean?" Shayne sat back again., "Of course I'd believe you."
The director sighed and stood up, facing the open locker he added, "So how'd you like the door on the way here?"
"Which one?" Shayne asked. "The bitchy one with the smart ass disembodied voice, or the cold shower glass one?"
"Well," he thought for a moment, "take your pick, kid. The point is, would you really have believed either one if you hadn't seen them yourself?"
"Well..." Shayne started.
"If I had just told you about them?"
Shayne nodded. "Of course!"
The old man laughed before idly drumming his fingers over his expansive belly, "You're a bad liar, kid. Couldn't keep the truth away from your lips or your face even if you were running, could you?"
Shayne could feel his face colour. "Hey, wait a sec!"
The old man dropped his towel and started rummaging through the locker for his clothes.
Shayne recoiled so fast, that he actually fell off the end of the bench with a loud slapping noise as his ass end hit a small pool of water. "Wha...wha wha WHHHAAATTT!?"
The old man turned and burst out laughing, again. "You're such an easy mark, you know that?"
Shayne scooted himself back along the floor until his back ran into the far lockers. His mouth was agape, and his pulse was jack-hammering in his chest so hard that he was sure his chest was heaving with the pressure of keeping his heart in place.
There, in front of him, was something that he wouldn't soon forget. Instead of a normal human body, the director's lower half was a mass of writhing snakes coiled up to look like legs and the lower half of a torso. They were actual...living...writhing...snakes.
The director laughed again. "Well now, would you have believed this if I had just told you about it?" A stray snake the size of a large python reared up and hissed at Shayne.
"Wha...wha....what the fuck is going on here? How...How the hell did the towel make your legs look normal a second ago, hey!?"
The old man sighed and grabbed for a pair of pants. As soon as he had swung the pants over his body in a semi circular manner they just seemed to melt onto his pudgy body, and hang in place as though he had just put them on.
Shayne was still struggling to catch his breath and reassure his heart that he wouldn't be eaten by a heard of wild snakes masquerading as an old man's crotch, ass, and legs.
"Still want me to tell you the whole story?" the Director asked with a chuckle this time, instead of a full-bodied laugh.
Shayne didn't reply, merely shaking his head back and forth slowly.
"Good," the man replied turning back to put on his shirt the normal way. "What I can tell you at this point is that we're in need of another agent."
Shayne just looked at him.
"We're a unique organization here, Mr. Koss," the man looked first at the locker then back at the cowering man in the tattered remains of a police uniform. "We're in need of a new officer, and you came up on our lists. I trust that I don't have to explain the ins and outs of this place to you right this second?"
"...N...No," Shayne said, a little too quickly.
The director smiled as he adjusted his tie in a small mirror attached to the locker door. "Good. You'll be working with a partner on a recent case from around your old jurisdiction."
"Partner? Case?"
"That's right," the man said, putting on his suit jacket and readjusting the tie. "He's a good man, but a little...well...Different."
Shayne swallowed hard, 'Is that the truth or the pot calling the kettle a piece of shit?' he wondered to himself.
"Don't worry. Don't worry," he smiled, "He's easier to handle than me...At least he should be," the director added quietly.
"Did you say something?"
The old man looked back at Shayne quickly, "Oh, no, it's nothing that I need to explain right now, is it?"
Shayne straightened up, his head hit the locker again, making a dull ringing noise, "No! Of course not!"
The old man laughed again. "Good...Good."
The director closed the locker and sat back down on the bench with a wide smile. Shayne tentatively picked himself off of the floor. "We can talk pay and all that small stuff later," he said. "Right now your partner is waiting for you."
"Wait, I...I need some time to think this over," Shayne replied. He added silently in his head, 'How the hell is all this insanity 'small stuff'?? Still,' he thought, 'anything to get back to my world.'
"Oh!" the director said. "Of course! Of course! Take all the time you need. But," he leaned in towards Shayne and whispered loudly, "can I give you a bit of advice? You know, just between us?"
"Uh," Shayne didn't like where this was going. His mind imagined all sorts of strange things involving writhing snakes and such. Where to exercise your trouser snake. Err, snakeS in this case; plural. Do you trim them? That would give a whole new meaning to the term 'Man-scaping'...Or would that be 'Trousersnake-scaping'? God, this is gross.
"Anyway," the director replied, "this place is gonna get really busy soon, so you might want to keep your head down and mouth shut when it is."
"Huh?"
"Well, between you and, I'm probably the most normal of the lot!"
Shayne straightened up quickly, "Sure! On...On second thought I'd love to start right away!"
The old man slapped his knee, "I like you, kid. You've got flair."
"Is...is that what I've got?" Shayne asked, between his teeth.
"You say something?"
"No, nothing!" Shayne replied quickly.
The director shrugged. "Anyway, you're going to want to open that locker there right behind you."
"Huh?" Shayne asked. "This locker? Why?"
"No," he was the reply. "Over two, to the left."
Shayne opened the locker and looked inside. "What's so special about this one?" he asked.
"You've got to climb inside."
Shayne looked back at the other man, "You're shitting me," he said, incredulously. "I can't fit!"
"Hah!" The director chuckled. "Course you can! You saw how Viorel left here, didn't you?"
Shayne remembered back to how she dissolved into ribbons, and vanished into a locker. Did he have to do that!? He shrugged, and slipped one arm into the locker. Good thing it was full sized! Shayne looked back for a second as he was struggling with the locker. "This is insane," he said.
"NOW you're coming to realize it?" the old man laughed.
"Um," Shayne started. "Can I ask one question before I...um cram myself into a locker, and get stuck?"
"You want to know if we have the jaws of life to pry you free?"
Shayne just looked at him.
"Well that would be a huge pun though, wouldn't it, kid?"
Shayne still just looked at him.
"Heh...sure kid, ask away."
"How? Uh...why..." Shayne struggled for the words. "Why exactly do you have all the snakes?"
"Oh!" the director said. "Well I was eaten by snakes way back when," as if that explained anything.
"What!?"
"Yeah," the old man replied as if suddenly very proud. "Unlike you there, kid, I most certainly am dead!"
Shayne stopped struggling and started agog at the other man.
"By the way, kid," the old man said, "the name's Zenadia."
"Wait, what?" Shayne asked as he heard a POP from his shoulder. "Gaah!"
"Call me Zen for short. Old man, gets well...Old you know?"
"Uh... Zenadia? Um...Isn't that a woman's..." Shayne looked up in time to see a large snake towering over the director with a hungry look in its eye. Slowly it opened its very large jaws, and Shayne could see a single bead of venom glisten from its fang. "Name...?" Shayne's own eyes opened wide and he tried to escape as the beast lunged forward with a jarring hiss.
"Aah!" he pushed backwards as the creature came forward, and felt himself falling. He could still hear the director's fat-man laugh as he fell.
"Remember to look for his scarf! Don't talk to anyone else!" Zen called as Shayne opened his eyes to see a small rectangular opening high above falling away, as he dropped into the darkness.
"What the hell have I gotten myself into here?"