A Final Boss' First Assignment

A/N Many thanks to my friend (who wishes to remain anonymous) for beta-ing this.

A Final Boss' First Assignment

by Cyba Zero

A small - but loud - funeral bell tolled.

The one-hundred-year-old demon sitting at his desk jumped and got up to check the Interdimensional Mailbox to which the bell in question was connected. The Interdimensional Mailbox sat in the corner of the room and looked like the flat-bottomed, curved-top mailboxes preferred by Americans living in large houses. This one, however, was much larger, enchanted and had a miniature belfry on top. The belfry was a personal touch, because this was HIS room in the office. After all, the denizen of the neighbouring room had a miniature lighthouse complete with foghorn on his mailbox, and the occupant of the room on the other side preferred her air raid siren.

The demon opened the front flap carefully and peered inside. Within lay a rather thick, paper envelope. The demon sighed; paper could be problematic. He was, by necessity, trained in all elements of magic, but he preferred fire. Apparently spell practice would have to wait.

He was not, technically, a demon. At least, he WAS, but only at the moment. In truth, he was actually a Final Boss - a creature born with limited shapeshifting powers and highly prized by the acting industry. He could do demon, dragon and humanoid shapes. At one hundred, he was quite young. In fact, he had only completed Infernal Drama School about six months ago. The message he had just received had to be the last set of instructions regarding his current and first ever job.

His manager had been quite free with him so far: having provided him with a site deed and the contact details for a group of workers, the manager had left him to design his own dungeon themed 'The Tomb of Doom'. The only request on his manager's part had been that the main chamber was to be large, round  and contain a summoning circle. The rest had been left up to him. As such, the Final Boss had been having great fun ordering the placement of many Cunning And Devious Traps among the Deliberately Scary Architecture. He had yet to visit in person, but the pictures were fantastic.

Opening the envelope, he pulled out a letter, a map and a small key labelled 'Back Door'. Of course: every tomb had to a have a back door for the hero to leave by - and for the Final Boss to enter through and bypass the traps. He went back to his desk and placed the map and key to one side while he read the letter.

Dear Final Boss,

I have received word that the Tomb of Doom is complete on the specified site to the requested standards. As the Final Boss, your presence will be required in the main chamber at midnight. A map and key to the back door have been enclosed for your convenience. The scene is to play as follows:

1. The Hero will enter the Tomb of Doom and work his way past the traps to the main chamber.

2. Having reached the chamber, he will summon you in order to defeat you. The specification is demon form.

3. You fight. Feel free to use all of your most impressive moves and vary your elements. Make sure to reduce his health bar to less than ten percent (but above zero!) a few times before letting him win. Note: he has healing abilities. Try to act your 'death' as spectacularly as possible.

Pay will be sent to this Interdimensional Mailbox upon completion of this assignment.

Break a leg!

Your Manager

Demon form: that was good. Dragon was fun too, but the important part was that it was not humanoid. The latter form was more adaptable - humanoid could do mage, politician, businessman, evil overlord and so on, but it just was not nearly so enjoyable. Everybody knew a proper Final Boss had to be Big, Bad And Scary. Bad on its own just did not cut it. The only shame was that he would have to use humanoid form to get there.

Grabbing the map and letter on the way past, he headed downstairs from his office and into the costume workshop he shared with his fellow Final Bosses. Each Boss had his or her own cubicle containing costumes and equipment. Out of necessity, these were somewhat large in order to accommodate beings the size of, say, demons and dragons.

He closed the curtains. Next to him he could hear the clanks of a giant robot amid the whirr of a polishing tool. Ignoring the noise, he regarded himself in the mirror. His demon form looked pretty impressive. His skin was a dull orange, his hair black. He had long eyebrows and a goatee. He had to be about as tall as a three-story building. His teeth were sharp and pointed, and his nails were claws. Of COURSE he had horns and a tail. At the moment he was wearing a gigantic black coat, but that would soon change.

He began with an industrial file sharpening his teeth and nails. That done, he buffed both with his own polishing tool, followed by his horns. Any decent Final Boss always came into battle pre-buffed, after all - both magically AND physically. With his harder body parts gleaming, he combed ALL of his hair, oiled it and slicked it back. Once he had finished, his hair, eyebrows and goatee looked immaculate. He put on some make-up to enhance the orange pigment of his skin and moved on to costume.

There were three wardrobes lining the rear wall of the cubicle for exactly that purpose: one for each of his forms. Opening the one labelled 'Demonic Costumes', he surveyed his array of armour and weaponry. He stroked his goatee in thought for a moment before selecting a set of massive black armour that appeared As Evil And Spiky As You Could Possibly Imagine. (That being literal, as according to the label it carried an enchantment that 'made its appearance match the viewer's expectations; ineffective against mind-affecting resistant entities'.) He left his coat on a free hook and donned the armour before delving into the wardrobe again after a decent weapon. He emerged with a pair of enormous, wicked-looking flails that he jammed into the belt that came with the armour. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he grinned broadly; he was definitely the image of a hero's worst nightmare.

He shut the wardrobe door and investigated the rather smaller 'Humanoid Costumes' wardrobe. He changed into the weak, puny and generally annoying form that most heroes preferred and winced. He had not used this form in so long that it was still wearing pyjamas - worse, they were the ones with little cartoon dragons all over them. He was abruptly somewhat glad of the curtain as he donned a smart suit instead. Shapeshifting was like that - if you put on a set of clothes in one form and then shifted into another, when you shifted back, the clothes would still be there exactly as you left them. For instance, even as he was putting on his suit in human form, when he became the demon again he would still be wearing the armour. He slicked his hair back again - he had settled with black for comfort - and folded the map into his pocket. Ready, he explored the vicinity of the gigantic curtain until he found the edge among the folds and shoved his way out.

At the far end of the workshop were a number of Interdimensional Gates, each of which linked to a specified point in the Human World. He took the one that came out nearest to his destination, in this case, he ended up Somewhere In The Middle Of A Desert. Fortunately, that somewhere was a warehouse on the outskirts of a small desert settlement. He slipped out of a side door and strode down a sandy track, suddenly all business at the prospect of his first starring role as a Final Boss. Humming an ominous  little villain's theme he had picked up from somewhere, he pulled out the map.

It was at that point that he remembered he did not know how the read a map.

He took a deep breath. It was not the time to panic yet - he could work it out, surely. After all, what kind of Final Boss had to go asking for help? Sitting on a wall, he peered at the map. On the front was a picture of a particular patch of rocky desert containing a pair of natural, stone arches surrounded by dry and dusty land and a number of cacti. The Final Boss appreciated cacti - they were sharp and spiky in line with his tastes.

He did not, however, appreciate the map. Was the picture where he was supposed to be going? It did not exactly look like much of a tomb, let alone a Tomb of Doom. He thumbed it and realised it could be opened out, so he did so. It turned out to be rather larger than expected, and got ripped in the process. (Well how was HE supposed to know it was folded like THAT?) Then he laid it out on the ground for a better view, perched on top of the wall and beheld a grid covered by a LOT of squiggly lines of various colours. What were they for? He had no idea, so he ignored them.

One thing DID catch his attention, though: a small, red cross somewhere near the centre. He guessed that was where he was meant to be going. Of course, he was not sure what it was supposed to correspond to, or where exactly HE was on the map...unless the cross marked him and the picture was his destination. Concluding it was probably the latter, he decided to wander about until he saw the place shown in the image.

He picked up the map and set off down the street. A small breeze came wafting the other way and blew sand into his face. He brushed the grains from his eyes indignantly but ended up fumbling with the map in the process. Growling, he attempted to fold it up with little success until he gave up, scrunched it and stuffed it into his pocket. Then he carried on walking.

One hour later he was still walking. He was also covered in sand and more than a bit grumpy. He had not managed to find anything like the picture, either. Instead, after a quick circle of the settlement he had wandered out into the desert, striding purposefully for said hour until he had somehow succeeded in finding another settlement. Now he was marching down a street somewhat similar to the first one he had encountered, musing why humans build everything so similarly.

He stopped. His eyes narrowed. He turned his head to one side. There stood an identical warehouse to the one he had first arrived in. Taking a deep breath, he poked his head through the door just to check there was not a Gate in there.

"GRRRRRAAAGH!" he roared. He had gone round in one big circle.

"Can I help you?" asked a voice. The Final Boss jumped. This was going from bad to worse: first he got given a map he could not read, then he spent an hour going around in a circle and NOW he had been crept up on by a human. To add insult to injury, he also NEEDED this human's help. At least this one was not a hero. That would be even MORE embarrassing.

He steadied himself, trying to ignore the fact he had a moment ago jumped rather obviously in a very un-Final-Boss-like manner. Now he had to be nice. Yuck. To a Final Boss, being nice was positively sickly.

"I was looking for the Tomb of Doom," he admitted to the human. "Apparently it's around here somewhere."

"Well, I cannot say I've heard of it," replied the man. "Do you know where exactly it is?"

The Final Boss had to hide a scowl here. Of COURSE he did not know where it was! Instead, he delved into his pocket and extracted the screwed-up map.

"I was given this," he stated shortly, handing it over. The man opened it up - making it appear easy, incidentally - and smoothed it out on the ground.

"Oh, I see, it's in a canyon about a mile from here," said the man, tracing a line with his finger to the red cross from an apparently random point. "You'll want to head that way." The man pointed.

"Thank you," responded the Final Boss, reclaiming his map and following the direction indicated as quickly as possible. He did not want this situation to last any longer than it had to.

"Are you one of those builders who have been going that way recently?" the man called after him. The Final Boss stopped. He had just about run out of nice.

"I am NOT a builder!" he snapped. "I am the Final Boss!" That last sentence he uttered with utmost pride as befitted his species and position. The human was not impressed.

"So you're an actor?" pressed the man curiously.

"NO! I AM THE REAL DEAL!" That was spoken in the most ominous voice the Final Boss could muster with his current - measly - vocal chords.

"Yeah, alright, good luck with that." The man shrugged disbelievingly. Disbelievingly! The insult! That was it; that was the last straw. This called for proof.

The Final Boss drew himself up to his full height, then transformed into his fully-prepared demon form. The human's eyes widened, his jaw dropped. There he stood, staring, mouth agape and paralysed by fear. The Final Boss lit an aura of flame around his hands - nothing too fancy, but he suspected any magic would be enough to create an impression on a human who was neither a) a hero nor b) a manager who dealt with Final Bosses on a daily basis (and gave them their due respect). The map, which he was still holding, immediately disintegrated into ash and drifted off on the breeze. The human, now absolutely terrified, finally regained his movement and promptly ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Now the man was a bit more than suitably impressed - in fact, the Final Boss was now wondering whether he had overdone it a bit.

"Sorry?" he attempted meekly. Unfortunately, the man apparently could not hear him over his own screams. The Final Boss had not realised the average human was that easily scared - and he had not meant to frighten the guy. Nobody else was around, luckily, but he was not going to hang about waiting for the panic to start when the man found somebody else. Feeling a bit put out, the Final Boss resumed his human form and hurried off into the desert.

Another hour later, the Final Boss had at least not ended up back in the settlement. He had not found the Tomb of Doom, though. He was also certain one mile's walk was not supposed to take an hour. Then there was the fact that he had burnt the map, terrified the one person who had helped him and was now somewhere in a desert with nobody else to ask for directions. Well, there was ONE person, but he did not relish the idea of asking HER.

An hour after that, and he was getting nowhere. Worse, he was getting late. There was no way he could call the manager, because then he would look bad on his first job. That left one last resort. It was not an idea he liked, not at all. Nevertheless, he was going to have to. He was going to have to call HER. He was going to have to call...his Mother.

Very slowly, very carefully and hating every moment, he edged his Interdimensional Mobile Phone from his pocket. This was not going to be fun. Gingerly, he dialled the number he knew and feared. Then he held the phone somewhere near his ear but not quite right to it - as though he expected it to bite. Knowing his Mother, it just might.

***

Deep in a massive cave, a monstrous alien reared up on the hindmost pair of its too many legs. It let out a piercing shriek, swiping first with a tentacle and then with a claw. The hero drew his weapon - a proper science-fiction energy ray - and made to blast the alien right in its only weak-spot. The alien's tail thrashed at him and he jumped back only just in time. He raised the ray again, taking aim and BRRRRING! BRRRRRING BRRRRING!

"CUT!" yelled a director. The hero sighed. The alien fumbled around in its chitin for a moment and a tentacle pulled out a mobile phone. It did not look best pleased - if a giant-alien-spider-octopus-queen with far too many limbs, teeth, tentacles and claws could actually look 'not best pleased', anyway.

"Please excuse me," it said to him unexpectedly, its voice an oddly - sweet and syrupy - rasping hiss. In fact, it sounded like the voice a mother uses for a guest when she is about to give one of her children a right haranguing. Deciding it was best to keep out of the way, he retreated to a comfortable-looking rock and sat on it to watch.

"YOU WHAT?" yelled the alien. "I AM IN THE MIDDLE OF AN EPIC FINAL BATTLE AND YOU JUST INTERRUPTED THE CLIMAX! YES YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED YOUR MANAGER! YOU SHOULD NOT BE RINGING ME WHEN YOU KNOW FULL WELL THAT I AM ON A JOB! NO I WILL NOT HELP YOU; YOU NEED TO LEARN TO DO IT YOURSELF! KNOWING YOU IT'S PROBABLY RIGHT BEHIND YOU!"

She jabbed the button to terminate the call, put the phone away and resumed her position. Her voice went back to sweet and syrupy.

"Now, where were we?"

***

Back in the desert, the Final Boss sat down heavily and put his phone away. He now had red fingers one side where the sheer force of his Mother's wrath HAD actually bitten him. Nevertheless, he checked over his shoulder just to be sure.

It was right behind him.

It did not look anything like the picture on the map; apparently that had been a red herring all along. In fact, what did greet him was a rather small and unassuming stone slab with a keyhole and a discreet sign denoting it as the 'Back Door'. So he was here and just in time. He fumbled around in his suit for the key and found nothing. Suppressing his rising panic, he transformed into demon form and rummaged underneath his armour. There was still no key. He tried the door, but it was indeed locked.

"Oh, no no no no NO!" he howled. He had just remembered he had left the key on his desk and there was no time to go back and get it. Soon the hero would be arriving and he would make off with all the treasure without ever seeing the Final Boss. He sat down heavily on a large rock and glared at the door. This was it: he had failed. After all that, he had left his key behind.

Defeated, he pulled out the letter and read through. Then he stopped and read again. He placed it very carefully and deliberately on the rock next to him and stood up, grinning. The map and key had only ever been for his convenience to inspect the builders' handiwork. He did not actually need the back door at all, because the hero was going to summon him.

He counted down the seconds and struck a terrifying pose. He felt a sudden, determined tug of magical energy.

This was going to be FUN.