Length: About 3600 words

Content Warning: Horror elements, swears, some smut near the end

The Wraith and the Nurse waltzed across the dance floor to the distorted orchestral music originating from somewhere in the darkened Crotus Penn Asylum. Her traditional nurse’s uniform, face-covering pillowcase and bonesaw had been swapped for an elegant gown and blindfold, while his ragged cloak and skull-headed axe were replaced with a fine cape with gold trim and a tailored suit.

They seemed quite enamoured with each other, ignoring the eyes of everyone staring at them from the side tables, both human and otherwise.

Normally, one side of the hall would be in hot pursuit of the other: hacking, stabbing, bashing and sawing them to pieces. But for this one night — the night of the Twisted Masquerade — there was a temporary truce called by the monstrous Entity that put them all through the Trials.

No one understood why the masquerade was held; there were theories about it being organized by a spirit called the “Mad Designer" to mark some kind of celestial event. But it was a welcome reprieve for the Survivors, if not the frustrated Killers forced to abide by the ceasefire.

A number of tables and couches filling the bottom floor of the asylum had been pushed to the side to make room for the dance floor. One table was occupied by Bill, Ace and Dwight, who watched the Wraith and the Nurse glide across the floor with idle fascination.

“Cute couple,” Bill grunted, as the Wraith spun and dipped his redheaded partner.

“Sure, if you ignore the part about them being serial killers,” Dwight said, pushing the glasses up his nose. “I watched Annie Wilkes there literally choke Meg to death last week.”

Bill blew the smoke out the corner of his mouth towards the darkened ceiling. “Didn’t say they were angels. Just that they were cute.”

Ace leaned back on his folding chair. Watching the two Killers, the beginnings of an idea were forming in his brain, and the pulls of an old addiction stirred deep inside him. “Wonder if any of the other Killers know how to dance,” he mused.

"I think I saw the big-mouthed hooded fucker do a jig once. Though that might have just been him shaking violently after bouncing off a wall,” Bill said.

Ace grinned. “Bet you I could get one of them to dance.”

The two other men chuckled simultaneously. “Yeah right, hotshot,” Bill said, taking another puff.

“No, I’m serious. I will bet you that I can get one of the Killers to dance. In fact, I’ll go over to them right now and start asking them. Just the ladies, though, and the Dredge doesn’t count.”

Dwight stared at Ace with wide eyes. “You’re crazy, and you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“There’s a truce, remember? All they can do is say no.”

Bill thought for a moment. “What would we even bet, smartass? We don’t have any money.".

Ace rubbed his chin in contemplation. “How about … my lucky chip keychain against one of your charms? Dwight, your locker, and Bill, your Boomer figurine.”

Bill scoffed. “If you want that ugly piece of shit, you can have it.”

“That’s not the point,” Ace shot back, in a slightly offended tone of voice. “It’s not about the prize, it’s about the challenge.”

Dwight and Bill looked at each other for a moment, then back at Ace. Finally, Dwight took a long drag on his cigarette, and muttered, “It’s your funeral, pal.”

"Yeah, go for it, dude!" Dwight gave him two very sarcastic thumbs up. "I'm sure you aren't going to get your head ripped off!"

Ace stood up confidently. “Watch me work, gentlemen,” he said, before striding across the empty dance floor, making sure not to bump into the happy couple.

He could feel multiple sets of eyes upon him as he made his way over to the rows of tables where the Killers sat. Most were by themselves, though there were a few sitting together in groups.

His heart pounding in his chest, Ace approached table where the short-haired beauty in the rhinestone half-mask sat alone. She was focused on reading one of those backwards comic books that he couldn’t remember the name of.

“Olá,” Ace greeted her with a cheerful smile and a wave. The masked woman ignored him, so Ace loudly cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Hello, I’m Ace Visconti. I heard from the Lyras that you’re from Brazil. I happen to hail from Argentina myself!” No response. “Uh, anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to—”

”Vå embora,” she said, flipping a page in her book. Ace didn’t speak Portugese fluently, but the meaning behind her words was crystal clear. “Moving on then,” he muttered.

Ace walked over where the the large Russian woman in the rabbit mask took up half of a table by herself. She was drumming her fingers in time with a tune she kept humming quietly.

“Excuse me, uh, Miss Huntress, I’m uh … I’m hoping you can understand me, but I was wondering if you would like to join me in a dance."

She stared at Ace coldly, saying nothing. Then, after several seconds, the Huntress reached down to her belt, raised up a hatchet, and placed it slowly on the table.

Ace felt a chill run down his spine. “Message received,” he said, then backed away.

Slightly unnerved but nevertheless resolute, Ace went from table to table to make the same offer. The woman in the Pig mask laughed at him, practically drowning out the music with loud, porcine squeals. The Legion threw bits of trash at him and shouted simultaneous insults, the same curses spilling out of all four throats. The Artist stood up, screeched loudly and summoned one of her ravens, which sent him scurrying. The Plague beckoned him closer with a curled finger, then leaned over and vomited at his feet.

With each failure, Ace grew more and more discouraged. He was about to give up entirely when he came upon the table where the Hag was seated alone, picking the fingers off of a cake and popping them into her mouth.

Ace noted that she was dressed up for the occasion in a golden gown that hung loosely on her withered body. Her dreadlocks were also done up fancifully and her long, oversized claw had two golden bands hanging off of it.

Ace stood a couple metres away from the Hag, weighing the pros and cons of approaching her. He didn’t want to lose the bet, but he didn’t feel like taking any more abuse either, especially from some snarling pile of flesh-eating driftwood plucked from a swamp.

As Ace stood there, mulling his options, a cloud of golden particles began to coalesce several metres above his head, unobserved.

Finally, he swallowed his dignity and walked up to the Hag. The swamp witch paused in her meal, one human finger still dangling out the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, uh, sorry for interrupting, but … do you want to dance?”

The Hag stared at Ace in confusion, tilting her head like a curious dog.

“Dance?” Ace pointed at the Wraith and Nurse, then mimed himself dancing with a partner. The Hag only continued to stare at him, the severed finger twitching slightly.

Ace sighed in defeat. “Never mind. Sorry for bothering you,” he said, turning away.

Before he could slink back to his seat and admit he had lost the bet, however, a woman’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What did you ask me, mister?”

Ace turned back and was shocked to see a young attractive black woman in the Hag’s place, clad in the same golden dress and jewelry; from a glance, Ace guessed her to be in her twenties. She looked up at him with a rather lonely expression, like she’d been sitting by herself throughout an entire evening waiting for someone to come up to her.

Unnoticed by Ace, the golden particles swirled above him, and in that moment, the whole world changed.

Before Ace could register what was happening, the asylum around them blurred and then vanished, morphing into a dimly-lit, nearly empty nightclub where a trio of shadows in blue and gold masks played slow jazz on a nearby stage.

Ace’s clothes changed too, his jacket transforming into a gold-coloured shirt that was unbuttoned down to the centre of his chest. His mind was similarly altered, filling with false memories and clouding over the old ones so that he didn’t question what was happening; he knew instantly why he was in this shadowed dance club, standing before this beautiful young woman in gold.

“I asked you to dance, miss," Ace said. "A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting all by her lonesome.”

The girl smiled shyly at his compliment. “Oh, I’m not that good of a dancer."

Ace bowed slightly and extended one hand. “Fortunately for you, I am.”

After a moment’s hesitation, the young woman took Ace’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the centre of the dance floor. It was deserted save for only one other couple, a red-headed nurse still wearing her hospital scrubs and a tall black man in grease-stained overalls.

“My name’s Ace Visconti,” he said, slipping his free hand around the girl’s waist. “Lisa Sherwood,” she replied.

They began a simple two-step. Despite her warning, Lisa kept up with Ace without stomping on his feet or tripping.

“So Lisa, did you come here by yourself tonight?”

“No, I came with my friend, Pam." Lisa scowled slightly at the name. “She ditched me to run off with some fella.”

“And you decided to stay?”

“Well, I like the music.” The scowl disappeared and was replaced with a little grin. “The company’s nice too.”

They danced for the length of one song, then two, then three, enjoying the music and each other’s company.

After Ace’s feet started to tire, they returned to the table to sit for a while. Ace was just about to order a drink when a waiter seemingly materialized out of thin air, offering them two martinis “compliments of the house.” They graciously accepted, neither of them noticing that the man’s greying skin or the fact that the upper right quadrant of his skull was missing, exposing his brain.

Ace told her how he was in New Orleans for a card tournament, while Lisa shared how she had come to the city to visit her friend and hit the nightclubs.

“It must be exciting, hopping from city to city,” Lisa said. “I haven’t been able to do much travelling.”

“You’re young. You've got plenty of time to go anywhere you, do anything you want.”

“Oh no, I’ll probably just end up staying in the same little town forever,” she said with a wistful sigh. “With all the mud and the flies and the cannibals.”

“The what?”

“Nothing. Just a story my grandmother told me once about flesh-eaters in the bayou. Silly superstition, my friend Pam says.”

“Fair enough,” Ace said. Just then, a gravelly voice from near the bar cried out, “Last call, folks."

“Ah shit, I guess it’s time to go.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “I suppose that means I have to go back to Pam’s apartment.”

“Not that eager, I take it.”

“Well, she might be back there with that guy and I’m not sure I want to walk in on them … you know.” Lisa's nose wrinkled at the mental image she had conjured up, and she shuddered slightly.

“You know, the hotel where I’m staying at has an all-night lounge, and it’s not far from here. If you want to continue this conversation for a while, we can grab a couple more drinks.”

“Oh, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to impose …"

“You’re not imposing, trust me. I stay up all night pretty commonly for card games. If you want to hang out a couple more hours, you can go back to Pam’s place at the crack of dawn — they should be done canoodling by then.”

Lisa swirled the remaining liquid in her martini glass, turning the notion over and over in her mind. Finally, she tipped her head back and slurped down the last of her martini before setting it down on the table.

“OK, you talked me into it,” she said with a smile.

After rising from their seats, Ace and Lisa departed the club and made their way into the darkened streets. A recent rainfall had cleared away most of the traffic, so they were alone save for a single car — a red 1958 Plymouth Fury — that went zooming by.

“It’s cool out here,” Lisa muttered, shivering. Without being asked, Ace removed his coat in one swift motion and offered it to her, which she gratefully accepted.

“That 's a little better,” she said, “though it’s still cold.”

“Well, stay close to me, and I’ll do my best to keep you warm,” he said, looping one arm around her shoulder.

The hotel, as promised, was not far. Like the streets outside, the lobby was vacant save for the hotel clerk, a perpetually smiling young woman staring out at nothingness with empty eye sockets that wept blood.

“Well, this is the place,” Ace said, gesturing to a nearby side door. “The lounge is through here.”

"Um, actually …” Lisa pulled Ace's coat closer around her shoulders, then glanced down at the floor. “I was thinking we could … go sit in your room for a bit.”

A mental slot machine in Ace’s brain suddenly started blaring as three cherries appeared in a row. “Really? Are you sure? There’s not much furniture in there to sit on."

Lisa breathed deeply, then exhaled. “Yes. I’m sure.”

They made their way up their stairs to Ace’s room on the second floor, moving past paintings of grey, ghoulish figures feasting on human flesh. He opened the door with a tarnished and crooked key, then held the door for Lisa.

Ace had spoken truthfully; the room was sparsely-furnished with only a chair, a small dresser and the queen-size bed. After looking around, Lisa took off Ace’s coat and laid it on the chair.

She turned to face him as he closed the door. “I want you to know, I don’t normally do things like this.” Lisa began fidgeting with her hands nervously. “I mean, meet strange men and go up to their hotel rooms.”

“I’m sure you don’t. But I’m glad you made an exception for me.”

They stood together silently for several seconds, contemplating what would happen next. Eventually, Ace reached out and gently ran his fingertips up Lisa’s arm, feeling the softness of her skin.

“Just to be clear, I don’t want to push you into anything,” he said firmly. “If you want to leave, just say the word. I’ll thank you for a nice evening, and that will be that.”

“I know.” She gazed directly into his eyes. “But I want to stay.”

Just as he had done on the dance floor, Ace took the lead, going in for a quick experimental kiss. When Lisa met his lips with her own, he wrapped his arms around her and began kissing her more deeply.

Ace expertly guided her backwards to the bed and eased her down on top of the mattress. He then broke away from her lips and began working his way downward, kissing her neck, the edges of her breasts and her soft thighs while she sighed appreciatively.

A feeling that something was off began to nag at the edge of his senses, but Ace ignored it. He helped her undress, pausing to relish the sight of her naked body before removing his own clothes. As Ace took off his pants, Lisa let out a gasp, which Ace took as a compliment.

Moving on top of her, Ace kissed Lisa one final time before carefully parting her legs and pressing his hips against hers.

“Oh God,” she moaned.

Ace took it slow at first, then gradually hastened the rhythm of his thrusts as Lisa began to swear a blue streak underneath him. He felt her grip on him tighten, and as she grew more excited, her fingernails started to dig into his back until they threatened to break the skin.

Finally, Ace climaxed with a grunt — it'd been too long since he'd been with anyone and he'd gotten too excited. He pulled out in time to finish on Lisa's stomach, then fell to the side and on to his back.

Lisa rolled over to face him. “Was … was that it?” she asked, trying unconvincingly not to sound disappointed.

Breathing heavily as he was, it took Ace a moment to respond. “No, darling, that was just the first round,” he said with a chuckle. “Just give me a minute and then you can go for a ride on this old man, OK?”

“I’ve never done it like that before,” she said, sounding hesitant.

“I’m sure you’ll be fantastic," he reassured her, kissing her again.

After several more minutes, Lisa clambered on top of Ace, settling into a sitting position. He slid inside her and began to thrust upwards until they established a rhythm, at which point he allowed Lisa to take over.

The nagging feeling returned, but Ace mentally pushed it away again as Lisa moved up and down on top of him. Unnoticed by the pair, the golden particles that invisibly hung high above Lisa and Ace began to swirl once again.

Lisa's voice rose to a high-pitched shriek. “Oh God, Ace, I’m going to cum! I’m going to cum! I’m going to—”

There was another blurring of the world around them, and suddenly Ace and Lisa were no longer in a motel room; instead, they were surrounded by the dingy walls and checkered floor of the Crotus Penn asylum. The bed beneath them disappeared as well, replaced with a filthy soiled mattress, and both Lisa's and Ace's clothes laid in a nearby pile.

“What the hell?” Ace exclaimed.

When his gaze returned to his partner, Lisa was gone. In her place was the withered body of the Hag, naked except for the golden bands around her wrist; she was writhing and hissing as her skeletal frame rose and fell, Ace’s penis sliding in and out of a horrid gash between her legs which seeped a foul-smelling black liquid.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Ace exclaimed again. In his shock, Ace tried to bolt upwards, but the Hag placed both talons on his chest and pushed down with incredible strength, holding him in place.

The Hag rose and fell several more times before coming to a twitching, shuddering halt. She screeched like a wounded animal as a stream of ichor splashed onto Ace's hips, her snakelike tongue extending to its full length and quivering in the cool night air.

Finally satisfied, the Hag collapsed on top of Ace. The two of them laid there for some time, panting heavily.

What the fuck is going on? Ace thought wildly. In his panic, he was tempted to throw the Hag off and make a run for it, but a more sensible voice in his mind — the one that had tried to warn him of what was happening — calmly informed him that if he tried that, it would end very badly.

As his heart slowed down and the more rational part of his brain took over, Ace began to recall what had happened: he’d made a bet at the masquerade with Dwight and Bill. He’d asked all the female Killers to dance. And then when he’d just about given up, he approached the Hag.

But instead of being rejected and slinking back to his seat, the thing that ran the Trials had changed the setting, transporting them to another world, another time, another place where the Hag was Lisa Sherwood and he was back to being a full-time gambler.

No, no, they hadn’t been transported; this had all been an illusion, taking place inside and outside the masquerade. And to help sell its bluff, the Entity had given Ace and the Hag false memories of a card tournament and a visit to an old friend.

But why? Why would it do this?

Eventually, it dawned on him: it was a cruel joke, the equivalent of telling a friend during a party that a pretty girl likes him and then pushing him inside a room with a mannequin or a sex doll. (Or, in the case of particularly shitty friends, a room with a fresh corpse from the morgue. Ace had seen that in a movie once.)

Ace burned with anger and humiliation when he felt the Hag’s body shift, which brought him back to his current predicament. She slithered up Ace’s sweaty torso and placed one of her talons on his cheek.

Ace’s heart started to race. He wasn't sure if the truce was still in effect, and if it wasn't, he was in very serious danger.

“Look, I-I'm sorry, I didn’t know what I was doing," he stammered. "I would never … I mean, I don't think of ... I didn’t try to trick you! All I wanted was a dance, nothing more!”

The Hag positioned her face above his. A glob of drool escaped her mouth and fell on his cheek while she gazed directly into Ace’s eyes.

Ace's lips quivered in fear. “You’re … you’re not going to eat me now, are you?”

In response, the Hag opened her mouth ... and gently licked the drool from Ace's cheek with her coarse tongue. Then she made a noise almost akin to a purr before pressing her thin lips to his.

Ace's eyes went wide in amazement as he felt the Hag's tongue slip inside his mouth, a not-entirely-unpleasant sensation. Holy shit, I think she enjoyed herself, he realized.

Moving slowly so as to not to startle her, Ace embraced the Hag with both arms and began gently stroking her ropy, mud-covered hair. She hissed again, rather contentedly this time, and rested her head directly below his chin.

They laid like that for a long time. Ace didn’t know what would happen after this; he imagined that this experience wouldn’t make one damn bit of difference in the Trials, and the Hag would go back to trying to rip his entrails out the next time they met.

But despite the Entity’s very deliberate attempt to hurt or humiliate him (and perhaps the Hag as well), Ace had defied the odds and got to feel something akin to normalcy again.

Plus, he’d gotten a glimpse what the Hag had been before whatever transpired to turn her into … this thing. Maybe that would be valuable one day. Maybe it wouldn't.

It wasn’t much of a victory, but those came few and far between in the Trials.

In time, Ace closed his eyes and felt as though he might drift off to sleep. They immediately snapped open upon hearing Lisa’s normal human voice ask:

“Do ya wanna go again?”