THE BOOTH

Photo Prompt by Labyrinthia Mythweaver Thank you.

Joe's was still bright though the street outside had thinned to the quiet rhythm of late night.

Three men stood at the counter waiting while Joe slid another pie into the oven.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Just one?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah. Just a slice."

Tony lifted a finger. "Pepperoni."

Dave shrugged. "Same."

Joe cut the slices and slid them across on paper plates with a square of plastic wrap tucked beneath the crust. Tony folded his like a sad taco and bit in, using the wrap to catch the grease before it painted his sleeve.

The television above the soda cooler murmured about the late game.

Mike bumped Dave's shoulder with his elbow. "How about your Jets, bro."

Dave kept chewing. "Scrubs."

Tony laughed through a mouthful. "Talk when your team wins something this century, Mike. 1990 called, it wants its parade back."

Mike wiped his hands and jerked his chin toward the door. "Come on."

"Later, Joe," Tony called, still chewing.

Joe lifted the pizza cutter in a lazy salute.

Cold air slapped them the second they stepped outside. Tony walked a little ahead, finishing the last bite of crust like it owed him money.

They turned the corner.

And stopped.

A booth stood near the curb like it had always been there.

Glass walls. Soft white light inside.

Dave frowned. "What the hell is that?"

Mike squinted. "Pay phone?"

Tony shook his head. "That ain't no pay phone."

They walked closer.

Inside sat a metal terminal with a keypad and a dim glowing screen.

Dave leaned toward the glass. "Looks like an ATM or a giant gameboy, remember that thing."

Mike pulled the door open. It swung easily.

Mike stepped in. Dave squeezed in beside him.

Tony stayed half outside, one arm braced against the frame. "You two clowns better not be ordering porn on that thing."

The booth was barely big enough for the two of them.

Mike pressed a key. Nothing.

Tony laughed. "You guys break it already?"

Mike hit another button. The screen flickered. A faint vibration moved through the floor.

Tony leaned farther in. "Seriously, what is that thing?"

Mike pressed the last key.

The world snapped.

Light crushed inward. Heat. Pressure.

Then darkness.

The glow faded.

Dave blinked hard. "Did you see Tony's…"

Mike shifted his foot.

Something slid under his sneaker.

"…hold up."

Dave wiped his eyes. "What?"

"There's something on the floor."

Mike nudged it with his toe. It rolled slowly.

A hand turned palm up.

Black leather sleeve. Grease stain on the cuff.

Dave leaned down. "…no."

A watch glinted on the wrist. Tony's watch.

Dave whispered, "That's Tony's arm."

Silence filled the booth like someone had sucked all the air out.

Mike lifted it carefully by the elbow.

"What are you doing?" Dave hissed. "Don't touch that!"

Mike stared at the severed limb like it was a weirdly heavy slice of pizza. "Why not? Maybe we can… put it back."

Dave looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Put it back? What are you, a fucking Lego master?"

"No dick they say you have to freeze it or something."

Then the noise hit them.

A deep, rising roar.

Dave turned toward the glass.

The street was gone.

Bright sunlight. Pale stone. Massive walls climbing forever.

Thousands of voices thundered somewhere close.

Dave stepped out slowly. Mike followed, still holding the arm like it belonged to him now.

The instant they cleared the doorway the booth vanished. Just gone.

Dave turned in a slow circle. "Mike…"

Only heat. Dust. And the roar of a crowd.

A horn blasted. The sound rolled through the stone like God clearing his throat.

They walked toward the opening between the towering walls and stepped through.

Sand stretched across a vast arena.

Thousands of people packed the rising stone seats above them.

The noise slammed into their chests like a wave.

A man in bronze armor stepped forward across the sand. Helmet. Shield. Short sword. He looked at them the way a butcher looks at two confused cows.

Dave swallowed. "Mike."

Mike nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Dave gestured weakly at the approaching gladiator. "Where the hell are we, man?"

Mike looked up at the endless screaming crowd, then back at the armored killer. "Where we are doesn't make sense… but I'm pretty sure we're about to get murdered for entertainment."

The gladiator broke into a run.

Dave shouted, "Mike!"

Mike twisted sideways. The sword sliced empty air.

Sand kicked up around their sneakers.

Mike stumbled back. The only thing still in his hand was Tony's arm.

The gladiator turned and charged again.

Mike swung on pure instinct.

Tony's arm connected with the side of the helmet with a thick, meaty crack.

The gladiator staggered two steps and dropped face-first into the sand.

For half a second the entire Colosseum went dead quiet.

Then twenty thousand Romans lost their minds.

Dave stared at the arm in Mike's grip. "Bro… you just beat a gladiator to death with our dead friend."

Mike looked down at Tony's severed limb, grease still shining on the leather. "Yeah. I did just do that didn't I. What the fuck is going on bro."

Across the arena another horn sounded. A heavy gate began to rise. Iron scraping stone.

Dave watched it climb. "Mike."

Mike didn't answer.

More armored men stepped out. One. Two. Four. Then a whole line of them spreading across the sand with calm, professional murder in their eyes.

The crowd rose to its feet.

Dave stared at the tightening wall of steel. "That's… a lot of them."

Mike finally looked at him. "No shit."

Dave pointed past the advancing gladiators.

At the far edge of the arena, bathed in soft white light like it was mocking them,

the booth.

Door hanging slightly open. Waiting.

Mike exhaled through his teeth. "You gotta be fuckin kiddin me."

The gladiators lowered their shields and started walking forward.

Dave looked from the swords to the distant booth and back.

"Mike."

"Yeah."

"We gotta go through 'em."

Mike tightened his grip on Tony's arm like it was the world's most disgusting Louisville Slugger.

He gave the oncoming line of killers a tired, pissed-off shrug.

"Fine. But if I die, I swear to God I'm haunting the two a ya's. You and Tony too."

Dave snorted despite everything. "Nah bro we got this. But if you do die fine... haunt away."

The first gladiator broke into a charge.

The crowd roared.