Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

After an exhausting shift at the Top-Dollar convenience store, Brad was finally heading home to rest. 

"Need you in earlier tomorrow, probably around 7:30. Sheryl gave me the word to move some merchandise around. Gonna need help moving some coolers, that okay?"

Butch wasn't an amazing manager, but Brad appreciated that he tried to level with him about the schedule.

"Yeah. Sunday I've got exam group prep for most of the day, so I'll be taking PTO. I uh- put it on the calendar Monday."

Butch swept carelessly around the checkout mat. He then bent down and picked up some straggler candy bars from the floor and replied,

"Yep, I remember. See you in the mornin'."

Brad blissfully extended his left arm towards the plains. His fingers danced across the roadside grass. Work still loomed in the morning, but Brad was glad Friday was finally done. A hefty breeze pulled his hair upwards as moonlight bounced down through clouds above. His home lied just outside the city limits of Davenport. It was a 20-minute walk between his humble home and the inner city. On weekdays, Brad attends Davenport City College as a sophmore.

On weekends, he mains cashier at Davenport's own Top-Dollar convenience store. If he gets off early from his shift, he may pop by Yoko's Noodle House (just across the street! His buddy Henry hooks him up with an employee discount) to order a to-go Pork Ramen Bowl. Unfortunately, Yoko's Noodle House was temporarily closed at the moment. A worn piece of white paper was poorly taped to the front entrance door. It reads as follows:

CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS

After a measley 10 minutes into his homeward bound stroll, Brad paused for a cigarette at Moore's Crossing. As his hand dipped into his pocket for a lighter, he peered over the parapet. The glow of a nearby street lamp glow revealed the bridge's true height above the the stream of water below. He caressed the cigarette with his fingers and struck the lighter with his thumb. The flame was hesitant. He struck the lighter again. Nothing.

"Really, come on-"

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed in the distance. Brad nervously dropped his cigarette. He turned to face the direction of the noise. It came from upstream. Suddenly, a young woman's screams rang into the sky. The wind's howling stopped. The moon hid behind the clouds. The grasses stood straight. Brad breathed heavily and shivered. He darted down the bridge's stone staircase and followed a muddy path along the brook. His pace started as walking but gradually evolved into a hefty sprint. The young woman's screams loosened into thick cries. Brad pushed onwards into the darkness.

He soon discovered the entrance to an underground tunnel. It was very narrow, and a rusty door guarded the entryway. He grabbed handle and tugged. The old metal door creaked and groaned with anger. It wouldn't move. The young woman's cries grew louder. Brad left the handle, lunged back, and rushed into the door with brute force. 

The impact snapped the metal hinge, and Brad fell inwards. His body tossed over the door and rolled downward onto a steep muddy slope. Unable to stop his momentum, he tumbled deeper into the confines of the abandoned tunnel. With a sharp thud, the mayhem stopped. He had reached a dry concrete path. Brad slowly stood up, leaning against the tunnel's wall. The darkness was profound inside the tunnel, and the young woman's cries for help lingered closer than before.

Blood trickled from his upper forehead. His arms and legs were covered with mud and grime. Cuts and bruises decorated his body. Brad coughed as he struggled further into the underground. The air wore a thick musk of dust and humidity. As Brad continued, he noticed a soft pulsating white glow laced like vines between the large chunks of stone embedded in the walls. Luminescent flecks floated from the wall's many creases and flocked towards Brad's hands.

Initially afraid, he retracted his hand towards his chest, but the flecks approached him gently. They bounced through the air like jellyfish and carried a warming sensation. He looked down at some of the injuries marked on his arm. The flecks edged along the surface of his skin and began engraining themselves into the lacerations. To his ultimate disbelief, the injuries were gone within seconds.

Only a few meters ahead of him, the young woman's cries appeared once more. The cries turned to soft sobbing. The tunnel transformed into a vast opening. The ceiling and floor were comprised of metallic, rounded panels. The room appeared like the inside of a cathedral in size and scope. Engravings of ancient figures, mystical lands, and an unknown language were etched into many of the panels. Flocks of the luminescent flecks Brad encountered earlier were dancing through the air.

Confused but determined, Brad walked slowly to the railing ahead of him and glanced downwards into the center of the expansive area. The area curved like a colossal dish or bowl. In the middle, a young woman sat and cried. She wore a multi-layered yellow dress and mysterious headpiece. The headpiece obscured her eyes and seemed attached to her in some supernatural way. 

The flecks hovered around her aimlessly and periodically zoomed to comfort her, but some sort of field prevented them from drawing near her. Brad was visibly perplexed, but he tried to stay focused. He turned left and right, looking for some way to climb down around the edge of the massive dish. Unfortunately, there was nothing to support his treck down the giant structure. It seemed impossible to get to her, so he yelled out with desperation to the young woman,

"Excuse me, miss! D-do you need some help? I heard someone screaming from outside. I was scared."

Silence. The young woman was stared at Brad through her headpiece. Brad peered around nervously, awaiting her response. She refused to answer him, so he continued,

"I thought someone might have uh-"

Suddenly, a powerful force instantenously crumbled the floor around Brad. With a loud boom, he was propelled upwards, over the edge of the railing. The nearby metallic panels tore destructively as debris scattered through the air as he tumbled violently down into the center. The young woman was quick to react. She bounded up the panels with meticulously timed jumps and quickly caught him mid-fall. From the air, she lowered herself back into the center carrying Brad in her arms.

Brad wheezed nervously and his hands were shaking. The young woman held her hand up high and summoned the luminscent flecks. They formed a protective aura around them both and locked into a whirling pattern. On the damaged landing where Brad was once standing, a menacing dark figure appeared. The dark figure spoke,

"Always calling for attention. You should be more cautious. They're not all as pleasant as him. I've seen their horrors." 

The dark figure lifted himself from the decimated walkway section above. His ripped cloak fluttered gracefully as he floated closer to the young woman and Brad. With tenderness, he extended his palm to touch the whirling aura of luminescent flecks. Sparks of light rebounded from his glove as he pushed his hand further into the field. The man withdrew his hand and scoffed,

"Wisp of a forgotten world. No doubt beautiful, if provoked. A safeguard though? Get with the times, Amelia."

He stepped back into an offensive stance. The panels vibrated underneath him. The whirling defensive aura hummed with instability. A vicious red beam swung from a metal harness on his wrist. It rotated quickly around his arm, increasing with speed every second. Amelia held Brad tighter to her chest. The red beam uttered a sharp crackle and solidified into a saber. He was preparing to strike. He arched his back and his coat stretched. Horns began visibly piercing through his skin. He groaned and gritted his teeth. His eyes burned a sickening, deep blood red. He clenched his other fist and lowered his head, 

"Do you realize what you've jeopardized by running here? You selfish bitch. We had the ADVANTAGE! And you fucked it up."

Amelia focused her face down towards him. Brad, simultaneously filled with uncertainty, regret, amazement, and fear, received her gaze. The headpiece unlocked and shifted into itself. A mechanism twisted and revealed her eyes. Her eyeballs were bright white with miniature dashed rings encircling her eye sockets. She spoke,

"He'll kill you if I give him the chance. Once I initiate the transmogrification, you'll be taken far from here. I'm not sure where, but I'll find you before Desmond does. I'm sorry, but this was the only way to make things right."

Desmond lunged forward and struck a powerful blow into the protective aura of wisps. The wisps shrieked and the defensive shield burst. Amelia tossed Brad upwards and swiftly cast the transmogrification spell from both of her hands. The spell traveled upwards and encapsulated Brad's body. With a final breath, Brad's entire being was instantaneously transformed into a ray of light. The ray of light darted upwards into the ceiling and dissipated into the foreign engravings. Bolts of lightning shot from the point of impact and chased along the surface of the roof. Trails of fire ignited within the engravings as crumbling stones rained from the sky.

Amelia was thrown onto her back and screeched in agony. The wisps were fixated at random points in the air, buoyant without purpose. Desmond began charging his saber again and sauntered towards Amelia,

"You'd bargain the survival of our species with a race of mindless savages? What about us, Amelia? Our culture, our families, our principles, it's all just fucking pocket change to you and your band of lunatics. Your philosophy of 'galactic order' means NOTHING when you're feeding an infection."

Amelia stared upwards at Desmond. He was standing above her now with wisps drifting aimlessly between them. He bent down closer towards her, saber fully charged, and continued,

"You sent that poor soul off into oblivion, and now you forfeit your life. I admire your passion, shame that your playing for the wrong team."

The air was potently sweet with a fragrance of vanilla. As Brad's eyes slowly opened, he reached his hand to rub the back of his head. He felt sick and his bones ached. After a few seconds of massaging his bruised noggin, a tiny spark of light flashed from his hand and echoed down the long corridor.

It zapped like electricity, pinging from wall to wall in the darkness. Brad leaned up from his slumber and scrutinized his hand. His hand was glowing and trails of some dark gas floated from finger tips. He moved his nose closer to verify the smell. It was smoke.

Fear consumed Brad's mind. He shivered with uncertainty. Thoughts permeated his mind,

"What is happening to me? Why couldn't this have just been a simple rescue? Who was that man?"

Brad lowered his head. He felt like giving up, but his spirit ignited,

 "Sitting here won't answer my questions. I have to keep pushing forward. That girl, Amelia, she'll find me- I hope." 

With his new 'hand-held' flashlight, Brad began exploring his surroundings. He was in some sort of metal hallway. The hall was enormous but eerily clean. There was no dust or signs of activity. Brad stumbled forward into the passage. He held his luminescent hand ahead of him and steadily examined the large area for any signs or landmarks.

A mysterious sharp, trigonal area appeared on the floor. Brad bent down to investigate this mysterious area of material. With his alternate hand, Brad cautiously pushed down on the material. The sheet was extremely sticky, and Brad's hand was stuck. 

Fearing the worst, Brad immediately leaned in the opposite direction to try and remove his hand from the material. He fell back onto himself and rolled over to regain his orientation. His attempt to escape had failed.

The floor ahead of him shifted. The shifting revealed the floor to be comprised of narrow steel bands. A thunderous rolling sound joined the revealing of the floor. The grinding sound pierced Brad's ears, and he gasped in pain. 

Brad quickly covered his ear with his only available hand. He noticed that some light shined from beneath the floor. It withered through the long openings between the steel beams. Thankfully, the harsh rolling sound then stopped. Brad continued trying to remove his other hand from the sticky surface. As he struggled and groaned in frustration, he paused. Smoke was still emitting from his fingertips on his available hand.

Brad arched his wrist back and armed his fingers with precision. He pointed his fingers towards the sticky material near his incapacitated hand. He closed his eyes and centered his thoughts and energy. Lightning shimmered from his fingertips for a brief moment before rolling into a sustained discharge. Brad laughed in amazement as the lightning cut around the material and freed his hand.

While Brad was no longer trapped, the sticky residue lingered on his hand. Without hesitation, he pushed his hands together, and used the mysterious lightning once more. With the heat from the flashes, the adhesive substance covering Brad's hand swiftly gummed up and fell to the floor.

Unexpectedly, Brad began to hear some sort of chatter. The noise came from between the metal beams in the floor ahead of him. The person speaking was boisterous and seemed giddy. The voice was rather deep but held feminine qualities. As his ears increasingly focused on the gossip, he inched forward cautiously. He crouched down and peered downwards through the crevice.

Brad gasped in terror. The world through the metal folds was an enormous room. A colossal, purple alien creature was sitting below him. As she loudly yapped into her cellphone, she swirled frosting onto a freshly baked cake.

Suddenly, the corridor around Brad shook violently, and a huge gust of cold air sent Brad flying downwards into the gap.

"Oh, you know it! I've been trying them out when I can. I'm working up a yellow cake today, probably send some over to the neighbors tonight. It's just way too dangerous to have it sitting around. I'll keep nibbling on it."

The giant purple alien snickered as she finished her sentence. In her right hand, she held what appeared to be a cellphone. In her left hand, she blissfully whipped butter-cream chocolate icing onto the rectangular yellow cake. Most of her attention was dedicated to the ongoing conversation. In the corner of the cake, a speck struggled for survival. Brad was submerged deep within the chocolate butter-cream frosting. 

Luckily, the fall was not fatal, but the frosting surrounding Brad's impact zone was gradually lapping onto him. With his hands, Brad clawed upwards vigorously. Within seconds, Brad would be suffocated. He kicked violently and tried to foot himself up to a higher layer of the spread, but the frosting continued to suck his body further down. His face, his arms, and his body were completely covered in the chocolate coating. He was well camouflaged on the dessert.

He breathed heavily and closed his eyes. As he sank further, his thoughts centered on his hand. Brad considered the lightning from his hand may be powerful enough to melt the frosting around him. With the frosting melted, his movement could be restored to permit escape. Unfortunately, after repeated attempts, Brad came to a scary realization. His magical power was being stubborn and refused to conjure.

The temptation for hysteria and panic was strong, but Brad became enlightened with a different idea. The consistency of the sugary spread reminded him of something: quicksand. He quickly raised his arms up and leaned himself into a back float position. To his astonishment, the sinking abruptly paused. With his weight evenly distributed, the grip of the frosting began releasing his limbs. The locking sensation around his legs ceased, and they rose upwards to the surface of the icing.

Brad laid dormant on the top layer of the frosting. The purple alien's enormous upper figure hovered above him, she was utterly clueless to his location. Her eyes kept darting back and forth as her conversation carried onwards. She temporarily paused her exchange and came uncomfortably close to the surface of the cake.

The purple alien's face now fully encompassed Brad's vision. Brad yelled out and tried to wave his arms, kick his legs, but she remained oblivious to him. She squinted her massive yellow eyes and leaned even closer. She took a whiff of the cake into her protruding snout. Brad gasped in terror as he felt his body almost leave the frosting from the force of suction inside her cavern-sized nostrils. Her large plump, pink tongue appeared and licked her outer lips. She backed away from the frosting and tilted her head. Brad sighed with relief.

Brad examined the alien and tried to calm himself. Her hair was quite long, dark, and appeared smooth. She wore a jungle green knit tank-top with gray fleece sweatpants, both of which wrapped confidently around her thick figure. Her body language hinted of decisiveness and contemplation. Her hand reached for a nearby cylindrical container on the table. She lifted it just above the cake and began decorating the frosting with multi-colored sprinkles. She smiled as the sprinkles rained down onto the frosting.

While miniscule to her, the sprinkles were sized similar to horses at Brad's size. As the container hovered over Brad, he retracted himself with nervousness and refused to look up. Boom, thud, bloop! The sprinkles slammed into the frosting around him. She pulled the phone to her face and spoke,

"It's perfect- yeah, I'll let you know, girl. Heh- I'll try! You know I've got a weakness for corner pieces..."

With a single press of the purple alien's chubby finger, the phone call ended. A cold sweat flashed across Brad's entire body. The clock was ticking, and he needed to act fast. As he writhed and struggled, the realization of his growing predicament became ever more prevalent in his mind. If he failed to escape, he would become part of this colossal alien's next meal.

The purple alien reached her hand across the table and seized a wide, metal spatula. After deciding the projected size of her cake piece, she swiftly drove the flat end of the cooking utensil down into the confines of the spongy cake. The pressure from the incision pulled Brad downwards and he rolled onto his side. The metal spatula ripped into the dessert, slicing out the cake's corner into a observable serving.

She edged the spatula underneath the cake slice and began to pull upwards. Tremors shook the sugary surface Brad rested as she pried up her marked piece with the spatula. Suddenly, the giant purple alien paused. Her eyes alternated to the adjacent kitchen area where she motioned to retrieve a spoon, plate, and napkin. As she departed towards the kitchen, Brad contemplated his next move.

The urgency of the moment hit Brad like a bullet, and he rapidly transitioned to more desperate means of survival. Article by article, Brad wiggled out of his ruined clothing. Firstly, he removed his signature Top Dollar work-shirt. The thick, greasy frosting made the unbuttoning process difficult, but ultimately manageable. Then following his shirt, he escaped his jeans and his shoes. While he was nearly nude (only his briefs and long socks remained), the frosting now only covered a minor portion of his body. Using his hands, he smoothed out his removed clothes to cover the frosting around him. Brad thought this would provide him with more stable flooring, and possibly reduce his chance of being absorbed into the frosting if he stood up. He crawled forward onto his self-made carpet of clothes and gradually tried to stand up. He had finally gained his balance.

Only a short distance away from his immediate position, Brad took notice to a massive, glossy pink sprinkle which was crumbling apart. He decided to take a leap of faith towards the sprinkle in hopes of earning higher ground. While his pounce was mostly successful,Brad's legs had failed to reach the pink rock. As his lower body started to sink into the frosting, Brad grunted in anger. Perhaps channeling his inner Michael Phelps, Brad speedily kicked and dislodged himself from the icing. With his arms, he pulled himself onto a section of the pink sprinkle. As he breathed in exasperation, his eyes darted upwards and he panted nervously. The purple giant had now returned and was ready to feast.

Brad gripped tightly to the edges of the sprinkle as the cake slice was seized from the pan. Luckily, the purple alien was gentle with the cake and wished to savor every crumb of her creation. As slice lowered onto the plate, alarms loudly sounded in Brad's mind. Brad yelled in despair and waved one of his arms high, but the purple alien remained oblivious to his efforts. She slowly scooped some of the cake onto her stainless steel spoon and raised it to her mouth. 

She licked her lips once more and focused on the portion of cake in her spoon. From her magnificent maw, moist breath struck Brad's face. He coughed and gagged as the sourness of her breath filled his lungs. The spoon entered the dark innards of her mouth, and her lips pressed together. The piece of cake was dragged from the spoon's grasp and was now slave to her tongue. The purple alien moaned with satisfaction, and Brad screamed with all of his might. He thrust his hands high and his eyes illuminated in the darkness. White lightning crackled from his fingertips and streaked upwards to strike the alien's hard palate. Her munching ceased, and she instantly spewed the remnants of the cake piece onto her plate. She exclaimed,

"OW! The hell?"

Within the soggy, spit-ridden, wet chunks, Brad emerged. He had survived.