The Colleague

The office was dark aside from the glow of a trio of monitors and quiet aside from the rapid clacking of a keyboard. Max stared into the lines of code with eyes the colour of grave dirt, and absentmindedly slurped at a milky coffee the same colour as her skin. The coffee mug made a dull clinking sound as it bumped into her lip piercings, but she didn’t even notice the noise anymore. She'd had enough metal in her face to require special treatment at airports since she was a teenager. Putting the mug down, she ran a hand through her short, bright green hair, and then got back to work.

Max hadn’t been sure whether she wanted to punch or kiss that asshole Matt Hawkins when he had pointed out the bug to her, but if he hadn’t generated his month-end report a day ahead of schedule and noticed that an entire category of transactions were being assigned to the wrong accounts then she’d have had managers from three different departments queuing up at her desk to ream her out. Endless questions and accusations that would stop her from working on the fix on the day the reports were actually due. One late night would be better than an entire day of headaches.

Matt was one of Max’s favourites in the company, in reality. It helped that most of her conversations with him were casual chats, whereas the rest of the pretty-boys in the customer finance team only deigned to acknowledge the geeks when they needed something fixed. The few times he did come to her with an issue, like this fucking transaction bug, he was always detailed, specific, had already tried all the basic first steps and hadn’t somehow managed to make things worse in the process.

The competence alone would have been enough for Max to want to jump Matt’s bones, but the bastard also happened to be a skinny kind of attractive, funny, flirty, and confident in the casual way that suggested he knew he’d totally rock her world if they got into bed together. She’d even suggested it at a particularly drunken Christmas party last year, and the smooth fucker had just let her down gently and then introduced her to his wife, looking at the short and chubby woman with disgustingly sincere adoration in his eyes.

Matt hadn’t stopped the flirting though, only toning it down a little while his wife was within earshot, so Max figured she’d wear him down eventually. It would be good to get it out of both their systems with one night of hot and heavy passion so he could go back to his loving wife and Max could go back to her series of questionable one-night stands and back alley dalliances. It wasn't like he'd ever want an actual relationship with Max anyway. Nobody did.

During a short break in Max’s heavy hammering on the keys, there was a timid tapping on the doorframe. Max looked up to see a curvy silhouette, and the glint of a pair of glasses reflecting the light of the screens.

“Hey. You’re Max, right?” the figure said tentatively.

“That’s me,” Max grunted, pushing her chair back and draining the last of her coffee, “I didn’t realise anyone else was here this late.”

The figure stepped further in, catching more of the light. She was one of the admin team, Max realised. A recent hire. The woman had a shaved head and oversized glasses perched on her round face. Her usual power suit was casually unbuttoned down to the cleavage.

“Just trying to get some stuff done before the payroll runs tomorrow,” she explained, “I wandered by earlier but you seemed really busy so I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m Amy, by the way.”

“Well you’ve disturbed me now,” Max sighed.

“Sorry. I have donuts, if you want?” Amy waved the peace offering towards Max, wafting the scent of fried dough in her direction.

“In that case, disturb me as much as you want,” Max said with a snort, reaching out and plucking a sugary ring from the box. It wasn’t that bad of a disturbance, really. She was pretty much done, as long as it compiled correctly.

“Glad to hear it,” the woman from admin said shyly, “And hey, if you want we could maybe go get coffee together another time? Say, after work next week?”

Max paused halfway through taking a bite of the donut, taking a deep, frustrated breath in through her nose and then chewing and swallowing while she tried not to snap at the poor, confused girl who was hitting on her.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m straight,” she said, perhaps a little bitterly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Amy said with an anxious laugh, “I just thought-”

“You thought that because I dyed my hair and cut it short, I must be queer?”

“Not... exactly?” she took a step back, going pale at the scowl on Max’s face.

Max took another breath and tried not to look quite so grumpy, which wasn’t as effective as she would have hoped. “I’m not homophobic or anything,” she grumbled, turning back to her keyboard, “Just tired of assumptions. Thanks for the donut, I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Amy squeaked, then scurried away without another word.

The hammering of the keyboard was substantially louder when it resumed, as Max angrily tried to finish the fix she was working on. She could have handled that a lot better, she knew that, but it was getting frustrating that she only seemed to be getting hit on by women lately. She needed to get laid, badly, rather than just getting badly laid like her most recent pulls.

With a final slam on the enter key, Max set the patch to compile and pushed herself back from the desk. She needed to stretch her legs, as well as getting laid. At least she could do something about that. Stuffing the donut into her mouth and her hands into her pockets, she got to her feet then strode out of her office and into the throne room of a castle.

“Der fup?” Max swore as she looked around at the stone walls and stained glass windows, then swallowed her mouthful of donut and tried again, “The fuck? Did I just get fucking isekai’d?”

“I could have done the truck thing, but I prefer doors,” a tiny ginger woman said with the excitable tone of someone explaining their favourite subject to an amateur, striding in Max's direction, “Most Hosts just brute **** it and use the transition between conscious and **** to pull you through, as if there isn’t a perfectly good symbolic link from an ordinary doorway. People go in and out of rooms all the time! It’s not like it’s even any harder!”

“The fuck?” Max said again as the woman stopped in front of her, gesticulating wildly, getting more and more animated with every word.

“Hey Max,” said a muffled voice. At the head of the room, Matt fucking Hawkins was sitting on a gold throne on a raised platform. He was slumped forward with his face buried in his hands, as if he was embarrassed by her presence. His wife - Sasha or something - was sitting in one of eight plain wooden chairs below him, wringing her hands in her lap.

“Oh man, I did get isekai’d, didn’t I?” Max laughed, a grin spreading across her face, “Are we in a harem anime?”

“Close enough,” the ginger woman grinned back, recovering from her tirade in an instant and jabbing Max in the neck with the sharp end of a feather quill.

Max stumbled back, her eyes flashing in surprise and anger, then nearly took a swing at the woman in retaliation before the compulsion took over. She found herself walking over to the wooden chairs and taking a seat next to Matt’s wife, while her brain rapidly sorted through the new knowledge of where she was and what was happening. Her head swivelled to face an empty spot in the air as she introduced herself to the Audience.

“Hello, my name is Maxine Parker. I’m thirty five years old, and I work in IT support and database management. I’m straight, fuck you for asking, and the last time I had sex was was three weeks ago when I was making out with a guy at a concert and he pulled me into a toilet stall in between songs, then came before I did and left me to finish getting myself off. I know the Master because we work at the same company and he’s at the top of my ‘would bang’ list of coworkers.”

“Oh you would, would you?” Matt’s wife asked sharply, still looking down at her lap.

“I mean, yeah?” Max shrugged, shaking herself out of the compelled response, “He seems like a good lay. I didn’t need a magical competition to get me to sleep with him, I just needed him to say yes.”

“Well if he hasn’t already then he’s clearly not interested,” she snapped back.

Max bristled. “Now listen, Sasha-”

“Sarah,” Matt interrupted, glaring down at Max and for the first time looking like he actually belonged on the ridiculous throne, “Her name is Sarah, and I’m not doing a damn thing with anyone unless she says it’s okay.”

“Hmm?” Scarlet skipped between them, fluttering her eyelashes at Matt, “What was that last bit, Master? A subtle but important difference from what you told me you thought about sex with your harem last time, I’d say.” She turned and hopped in front of Sarah. “As for you... it sounds like maybe your husband is interested after all, doesn’t it? I would certainly expect so, since every Contestant this season has been handpicked based on our Master's aesthetic tastes and their ability to indulge him in one or more of his many, many, oh-so-many kinks.”

The room went quiet. Max feeling chastised and frustrated, Sarah seething, and Matt embarrassed into silence. Scarlet let the moment ride for a few seconds, then spun back towards the Audience and flourished her quill again.

“Onto the next Contestant then! From the designated punk, to the obligatory goth. From a little older than the Master, to very much younger. From a hard worker, to someone who has never worked a day in her life.”

“Oh fuck, not her,” Max groaned as she pieced the clues together. Matt’s head was back in his hands already as he realised the same thing.

“Oh yes indeed,” Scarlet grinned lopsidedly, “Let’s all give a very warm bourgeois welcome to Contestant number three!”