Engagement

Ghervas stopped. The great black pit he stood before suddenly began to hum. He took a cautious step forward, then slowly, delicately drew his sword from its scabbard. The humming stopped.

The witcher looked around, feeling the cool night wind begin to sway the vines of the trees and bushes surrounding him. He felt a withered golden leaf flutter as it landed on top of his head.

"It's only the wind..." he whispered under his breath, then, like a cat hunting mice, slipped into the gloomy cellar.

He stepped slowly, feeling his boot soaking wet. Something splashed in the distance, something else creaked strangely. It was probably an old, unoiled shutter. At least, that's what he suspected, refusing to allow another thought to enter his mind. He couldn't afford to be afraid.

He didn't have time to cover his eyes, which had been accustomed to the darkness for a few moments. And then something exploded. The flash blinded him, startling his mind and, most importantly, his eyes, causing a sharp, stabbing pain. Ghervas collapsed to the ground, soaking his trousers to the knee. After a few seconds, he recovered. He rubbed his eyes and looked up.

The room was full of junk, old furniture, crates, and moldy boards. He spotted a strange figure standing in the corner. A shaggy one, with a large axe on which it leaned with its hairy paws. In fact, nothing but its shaggy hair was visible, only a pair of small eyes flashing occasionally from beneath its dirty fur. "

We've been waiting here for youee, witcher," the stranger said. His voice was deep, and the pronunciation was very indistinct.

Ghervas rose, seeing the shaggy man's enormous axe, and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. He leaned forward slightly and was about to make a magical sign when something struck him on the head. Darkness... "

You see him; it's immediately obvious he's not human." – he heard the first voice.

– It's a mutant – replied another, deep one. Shaggy? – Look at his skin, glance at his face. Well... I'm sorry, Brother, you don't have eyes. Anyway, look. A scar here, a scar there, traces of tests with mountain gray extract. His eyes are still closed, true. But when he opens them, you'll see the eyes of a cat.

– I don't know… – another voice, high and clear, like a castrato's. – It looks human to me.

– Where does it look human?! – Shaggy raised his voice. – Not from the outside. And that's only from the silhouette.

– He has two legs, two arms too, besides… I wonder if… – a delicate female voice, terribly quiet. – Have you checked the rest yet?

– No. And we won't check, – replied Shaggy. – So, are we in on him or not?

– Him? He's an informant?! – a high-pitched voice. "Mutants like him will always be considered human minions. He doesn't belong to us, of course. Down with him.

" "Down with him, you sons of bitches... How do we know that?" the figure with the female voice asked. "Oh yeah... There was one like that once. I keep thinking of ways to test him here and there."

"Enough. Maybe we should just wake him up and ask?" Shaggy suggested. There were murmurs and whispers, but no one really minded.

Water in his nose, mouth, eyes... He choked, got punched in the stomach, and opened his eyes. They were all standing before him. Each voice magically found its owner. He'd seen Shaggy earlier, now he recognized a strange, translucent figure, probably a ghost. Next to him was a rather tall woman, wearing enormous heels. He even liked her; if it weren't for that slightly oversized nose, she'd be a goddess to him.

"What do you want from me?" Ghervas asked. "And why did you tie me to the wall?

" "Eh, it's for our safety," Shaggy replied, leaning on his axe. "We heard you were a boor and a simpleton."

"And you're cultured people, aren't you?" The witcher grimaced, the most hideous expression he'd ever seen. "I ask again, why the hell am I hanging here?

" "Can I explain?" the apparition asked. The shaggy man nodded. "Well, first of all, because you appeared on the manuscripts of a certain Andrzej S..

" "That old geezer didn't ask my opinion..." the witcher retorted.

"What do you call your daddy!" the shaggy man growled, grabbing his axe and placing it on his neck. "

You were hiding there under the assumed name Geralt. Is that right?" the ghost continued.

"Well, yes, that's right. What else do you blame me for?"

"First of all, for not joining our trade unions," the sorceress said. "On the contrary, you're acting to our detriment. How many monsters have you killed?"

"'You murdered'..." the shaggy man corrected her.

"Er... I don't keep accounts, sorry," Ghervas replied.

"I'll tell you, witcher." The hairy beast ran one of its claws along the axe blade. "Hmm... there will be about 2,302 of my little brothers and sisters.

" "Oh..." the apparition crossed its barely visible arms. "You're better than the plague."

"The plague kills people," the witcher replied.

"There's no difference between a human and a monster. The only difference is that one is uglier and the other prettier," the shaggy man said.

"Prettier and better behaved. It doesn't prowl the forests and caves and doesn't skin people." Ghervas smiled nastily. "You want to judge me, that's why you brought me here?"

"Well, not exactly." The sorceress took a few steps towards the hanging mutant. "We want to ask you for something.

" "Ask?" the witcher asked in surprise.

"Well, exactly." the shaggy man agreed. "You see, you're famous now; you've been in at least seven books. And no one knows us. Everyone's heard of the witcher, but not the human?

" "About who?!" Ghervas burst out laughing.

"I'm a human," a pair of nasty fangs protruded from beneath his gray fur. "Monsters hire me to eliminate dangerous humans who prowl the roads and attack polite and delicate-as-egg dragons, trolls, gargoyles, and the like. All in all, I'm not complaining about a lack of work.

" "And you? Who are you?" the witcher looked at the woman.

"I'm a new version of Yen," the woman replied, smiling charmingly. "Notice my shape; I'm enhanced to the limit. Besides, I know every spell ever used in this world.

" "And I, sir..." the ghost spoke up. "I'm the voice from Big Brother's house.

" "Eh..." the witcher pondered. "If I heard correctly, Big Brother's voice was a bit deeper.

" "A simple sound transformer, a cloth, a microphone, a tube, and that's it," the ghost replied.

"Aha. And what do you want from me?" Ghervas asked.

"Trick us into some book," the sorceress said without hesitation. "You have connections, you know Sapka, you worked for him for a long time.

" "Haven't you heard that..." the witcher replied. "...that he's finished the entire saga?

" "How did he finish it?!!" the shaggy man jumped up. "What did he finish?! "

He wrote his last novel, 'The Lady of the Lake,' and that's all for the witcher."

A moment of silence, contemplation, and then the ghost began.

"So now you're as unemployed as we are?

" "That's my fate." Ghervas sighed. "Who could endure another volume of the saga?

" "No, well, they would..." the Brother nodded. "Ask, who could endure another episode of BB?

" "Right..." the witcher admitted.

"Maybe we should grab some wine? We'll drown our sorrows, it'll be a bit happier..." the shaggy man suggested.

"Fly." the sorceress waved her hand. The beast flew away.

"And me?" the ghost asked in a broken voice. "How can I have a drink with you?

" "Can't you conjure up a stomach for him?" the witcher asked.

"Er... I'd have to have his throat, esophagus, stomach, and liver, I think," the woman counted on her fingers.

"I don't want the liver." The ghost crossed his invisible arms again.

"So what about our careers?" the sorceress asked.

"You know, this version of Yen may be pretty, but... a bit late and a bit artificial. But as far as people are concerned, I think she has a chance," Ghervas said.

"What are you, a fag?" the woman grimaced, approaching the hanging warrior.

"A realist," the witcher replied. He smelled her perfume; she smelled of lilac and asbestos. "I don't know if Sapek would hire you.

" "And me?" the ghost asked.

"You..." Ghervas mused. "You'd be perfect for phone sex. You'd just have to lower your voice so as not to scare people. You wouldn't make a fortune, but you'd get by just fine."

At that moment, something crashed, something thudded, and rolled into the hall. It stopped only in the middle of the room, shattering a carrot crate.

"It's me, Shaggy," the beast muttered. "I brought the wine.

" "Is there really no chance? No chance of a book or even a lousy short story?" the ghost looked at Ghervas with almost pleading eyes. "

There's a small chance, though I don't know if you'd agree to that," the witcher said, seeing the curious faces of all three. "Well, besides Tolkien, Sapek, and others like that, there are people who would be willing to hire you.

" "Who are these people?" the sorceress asked.

"Ah...These are the ones reading that story right now," the witcher replied.

"Well, that's fine, and I'm so unkempt..." the woman opened her small bag and started searching for a hairbrush.

The shaggy one began to flex. His muscles weren't visible anyway; his fur hid him.

The ghost, however, did nothing. He levitated peacefully above the ground.

"Can I go now?" Ghervas asked. The shaggy one flew up to him and with a single swipe of his axe shattered half the wall, severing his bonds in the process. The witcher brushed the dust from his clothes, picked up a nearby sword, and walked out as normally as possible.

"So, will you hire me?" the sorceress asked, tensing like a string. She began pacing from one corner of the room to the other, winking at random. "You won't regret it, I assure you.

" "Come on, Filla," the beast swung his axe here and there, mowing down the Brother's invisible head in the process. "How do you know if the person reading this is a man? Maybe he's a woman? And women appreciate tough guys with tons of muscles, don't they?"

"Don't make me laugh, or I'll shoot a spark in that hair of yours and you'll have it." The auburn-haired woman's green eyes lit up.

"That 'chick' was for the reader," Shaggy began to cackle, leaping from one corner to another and smashing the walls with a powerful stroke of his axe.

The ghost just stood there and watched.

"Dear reader," he began. "If you want, write at least one short story about us, even the worst one. Because they'll destroy my whole house."

Shaggy cackled and danced his dance of destruction, making everything whistling, cracking, and popping. What would Gulczas say if he saw this? What would Manuela think, and Claudius? Oh, I can already see those silver tears on their cheeks. The Big Brother house was crumbling.

The sorceress, sensing disaster, snapped her fingers, and all three of our heroes disappeared, saving their heads from the falling bricks. From now on, Filla, Shaggy, and Brother are in the void. They're surrounded by darkness and truly cold. They long to return to their world. There's only one way.

Will they appear in your story? You decide.