Zane wiped a line of sweat off his face. The air conditioner was broken again. This time of year, the warehouse became a 30,000 square foot sauna—even at night, when his shift took place. Whenever he moved his arms, he felt his shirt sticking uncomfortably close.

For the umpteenth time, he wondered what he was doing here.

Two years ago, he'd been a student wrestling for his local state school. He was the scrawniest guy there, but he was also last to leave the mat every practice. By junior year he was placing at regionals. He'd started training boxing to blow off steam, and he'd even racked up some wins as an amateur.

Then he messed up his knee on a bad shot.

A friend had once observed that if everyone else's emotional range went from zero to ten, his was from four to six; he just didn't get very high or very low. It was why he loved fighting so much: it was only when he let himself go, when his heart ran wild and his blood coursed hot in his veins, that he felt alive.

As it turned out, his friend was wrong. Zane could get very low. After his injury he was stuck at an emotional zero for over a year. He put on nearly fifty pounds, flunked out of college, and his girlfriend since high school left him for a guy who looked suspiciously like him, only two inches taller—he might've found it kind of funny if it hadn't happened to him.

Now his life was boxes. Moving wood boxes in a bigger steel box. The wood boxes were all kinds of rectangles, big and small, all gift-wrapped with masking tape, all the same shade of dull brown, all needing to be moved from one rack to another, stretched out endlessly rack after rack. Sometimes when he saw them at a distance stacked side by side, they looked like dates on a calendar. As he went from box to box he could almost feel his life going by.

The only thing he liked was that there was hardly anyone here; all he could hear were his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space. There was something vaguely sci-fi about being stuck under nauseatingly white LED strips, caged in by flat steel walls, alone in the dead of night.

The hours crawled on by, and he finished up. He tapped his badge and clocked out. His ride waited for him: a baby blue 1998 Toyota Prius he'd nicknamed Bailey, rusted so badly it was more brown than blue. It took a couple of tries to get it going. It was a miracle the thing still ran, and he probably should have junked it long ago, but he could respect a thing that was broken and kept on going.

As he drove down a long, straight stretch of road, the first pale fingers of daylight reached over the horizon, grazing a wall of deep fuzzy green. This part of Washington State was pretty much all forest.

It was a new day, but all he was thinking about was showering, slurping down instant ramen, and dissolving into his shitty little mattress. He'd picked it up at a yard sale and it was missing half its springs, but after the shift he'd had he figured even concrete would feel like memory foam. He was getting a little woozy; his head felt light. He probably shouldn't be driving.

𝕀𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕞…

He blinked. He put his hand through the box. "What...?"

𝕋𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘...

He must be more sleep-deprived than he thought. He blinked; it was still there.

Then his world started to tremble.

He thought it was his car acting up at first, but the rattling was so bad he felt it chattering his teeth, jittering his fingers; it was hard to see. Then there was a violent lurch and his face crunched against the steering wheel. His mouth gushed salt and iron.

"Fuck!" He gasped—or he thought he gasped—he couldn't even hear himself. There was a noise so huge it drowned out the world, deeply reverberating, like the earth itself was crying out in pain. Was he seeing things, or was the road narrowing? It was like the road was a fault line and the ground on either side of it were rushing in, spitting waves of gravel—

He looked left and saw the treeline rushing at him. There was a shattering of glass. Everything went dark.

***

He woke up groaning. "Fuck." His head throbbed mightily. He touched his temple and his fingers came away bloody.

ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕥: 𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙, 𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕋𝕏𝕃𝟠𝟜𝟡𝟙, 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕖𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕞. ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕖: 𝔼

𝕋𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕒𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖.

𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟 ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖.

𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕: 𝟙𝟙𝟜,𝟙𝟠𝟛

𝕊𝕒𝕗𝕖 ℤ𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕: 𝟘

𝔸𝕣𝕖𝕒 ℂ𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕: 𝟙𝟡𝟞.𝟡𝟜/ 𝟙𝟡𝟞.𝟡𝟜 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕤

He blinked. It was eerie — they looked just like the notification boxes in the MMORPGs he played to unwind from work. It used game language too—Dungeons? Safe Zones?

𝕎𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖, ℤ𝕒𝕟𝕖 𝕎𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕖𝕣!

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕: 𝔻𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕠𝕟: 𝕃𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 (𝔽)

ℂ𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕠𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤:

𝟙. 𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕠𝕓𝕘𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟 ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕖𝕗

𝟚. 𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕪𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝔹𝕖𝕙𝕖𝕞𝕠𝕥𝕙

𝟛. 𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕂𝕖𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖

𝕆𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 𝕞𝕖𝕥: 𝟘/𝟛

Were they some kind of projection? But they followed his head when he turned. He tried grabbing at them but they flowed over his fingers. They didn't seem to be anywhere—it was like they were in his head. The last of them faded away.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟘%!

Hold on—what?

He was feeling a prickling of panic, which was a very bad sign. His feelings were usually a poor indicator of how he ought to be reacting. His slightly panicking was normal person hysterical screaming—which meant he should probably be feeling quite concerned right about now.

He glanced down. His leg was bent in three places, all the wrong way. "Yep. That's… definitely broken."

A long pause.

"Well, shit."

He supposed the first step was to find his car, then get to the nearest hospital. Wherever these game hallucinations came from, he could deal with it later.

Only, where was his car?

He must have crashed it somewhere. He couldn't be too far off the road. He got up to a knee.

Then the pain in his other leg hit him all at once. "Fuck!"

He heaved in a deep breath. It hurt like a motherfucker when he moved it. It hurt slightly less when he didn't. But there was no choice, really. Hissing, he hopped to a foot.

Then he noticed the grass was purple. And glowing. And there were motes of blue light floating about like stringless lanterns.

And the trees. Those were not Washington trees. He'd lived here his whole life—he would've remembered trunks that twisted like coiling pythons, rising to glowing turquoise canopies so thick they let in only slivers of sun. There were flowers big as his arm, a shade of purple he'd never seen before. Everything here seemed bigger. Either that, or he'd shrunk.

He supposed he could be in a dream. He was pretty sure dreams were not supposed to hurt this much, though. He was well past the point of 'pinch me'.

There was a thumping in the distance, to his left, coming closer. It sounded like pattering feet. His first thought was, oh good. Someone's here to help.

Then something burst out that made him think he might be dreaming after all.

Pointed teeth, long nose, sharp ears, with skin the color of vomit. Sickly yellow eyes met his own. The thing hardly came up to his waist. In its hands was a spear—fun-sized, but the stone tied to its end still looked sharp enough to run a man through.

More boxes popped up.

𝔾𝕠𝕓𝕝𝕚𝕟

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟙

𝕋𝕪𝕡𝕖: 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤, 𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕝𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥. 𝔽𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕗𝕖𝕥𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕥𝕤 𝕤𝕦𝕓𝕛𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕤, 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕀𝕞𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕦𝕞 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕚𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟.

He blinked.

"Uh. Hello?"

It bared its fangs, screeched, and leapt for him.

Shit!

He threw himself to one side, and its spear went sailing past, barely missing his neck.

He scrambled up, and the next strike cut a burning line down his chest.

Okay, fuck this thing.

The next time it came in its dumb straight-line charge, he ducked the spear and clobbered it in the face. Howling, it stumbled over itself. He tried to pursue. Then he was promptly and painfully reminded that his leg was quite broken. He could only watch as it backed off, gathering itself for another try.

This time it came in wary. It jabbed, and when Zane grabbed at it, it hastily backed out of range. No more mad charges. It kept circling to Zane's bad side, poking at his arms. It was surprisingly hard to turn when he had been used to doing it with two legs his whole life. The goblin started cackling. It could just keep poking and poking and poking until all the blood leaked out of him, and they both knew it.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%

ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕖𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕪 𝔹𝕝𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘

He didn't need magic boxes to tell him he was screwed. That was pretty obvious. His heart rate had been pretty steady up till now, but he could feel that familiar heat rising in his chest, coursing down his body, an old friend who hadn't visited him in a very long time.

He started to smile, just a little.

The goblin frowned. Zane had seen that look before in bouts—when he was getting thrashed and his opponent was wondering why he wasn't getting scared, or losing hope; why he looked so excited. As far as he saw it, the match only started when he got warm, and he was well warm now.

He'd had an idea.

This time when the goblin came in, he timed it. The spear flashed up. So did his hips. So did his useless dead weight leg, whipping out in a wide arc—a kind of shitty flopping kick. If you couldn't use it, might as well put it to some use, right?

The neat thing about his leg being this badly broken it didn't need to obey the joint. It flopped right into the path of the spear, a zigzag of flesh—it was hard not to hit it. Sure enough, the spear stuck his calf and stayed there. He hardly even felt the jolt of pain. His smile grew feral. "Gotcha, you little shit."

Even the goblin looked shocked—and a little grossed out. It went to yank the shaft out.

But Zane finally got his hands on the shaft too. It tried fighting him for it, and he headbutted it in the face, heard a satisfying crunch. It went flying, howling. The spear was his.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℂ𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙!

Maybe it was the shock, the pain, the lack of sleep, or the blood loss, or maybe he was just having the most fun he could remember in a very long time. The goblin gaped at him, and he drank in the fear on its face. Then it turned to run.

He launched the spear.

It caught the goblin clean in the center of the back and buried itself a fist deep. With a squawk, it dropped.

Zane couldn't stop grinning. There really was something wrong with him. But whatever this crazy dream was, he was starting to hope it'd never end.

Then the goblin started to glow.

"…Eh?"

It was dissolving into motes of fuzzy white light. At first they were pinpricks like a starscape spread against its skin. They spread fast, until the whole thing was one glowing mass.

It rushed for Zane. He tried dodging, but the light-river curved to follow—he could only brace as it poured into his chest. A tingling warmth blossomed where it touched.

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕌𝕡!