Gaunt opened his eyes, but for a few moments wasn't sure that he had. He seemed to be in a place devoid of light. He certainly wasn't in his shop wherever he was now. But where was he? He stuck his hand out and quickly found a solid and smooth barrier in front of him. Some quick examination told him that he was in quite a small container. Completely sealed. A thought raced across his mind.

(Flagg, this has to be that Randal Flagg)

But was it Randal Flagg though? They had only crossed paths once before and though both of them seemed to sense what the other one was, they took no special interest in each other. Flagg had known some people that would be more than willing to buy from Gaunt and Gaunt always welcomed the oppertunity to collect more souls. Flagg had disappered before things had take their usual dramatic finish and Gaunt had continued on his work as usual. Flagg had only seemed interested in causing meyham, and this was far too elaborate.

His train of thought was broken when he noticed the room slowly being flooded with a faint light. He noticed there were several other containers like the one he was in and all of them were occupied. The occupants themselves were quite unsual even by his standards. Definetely not Flagg. Now that he could see he began looking for a way to get out of his holding cell. Some of the other figures seemed to be thinking along the same lines. With a high pitched noise two of the other containers burst, one after the other and the two figures escaped. Shortly after two others pounded their way out.

Gaunt look down at his small section of floor. He had none of his own possesions with him, not even his satchel which caused a spasm of anger to cross his face. If someone had stolen that, they would come to greatly regret that. The souls it contained were his! He had taken them! So much time and effort had been spent collecting them. He almost missed the items there were at his feet. The first was a container with picture of a firey landscape. He opened it and nearly laughed. It contained some extremely strong aftershave. The other item seemed to be a stack of papers. He picked them up and held them to the light and noticed (in extremely fancy yet evil looking lettering) that it carried the name of Hell.

(Hell's Stationary)

This thought DID cause him to laugh. For all his usual charm it wasn't a pleasnt sound. It was the kind that made children cry or grown adults wince. Fool though the person (or possibly persons) who had put him here undoubtably were, they did seem to know who and what he was and seemd to have some sense of humor. In any case he saw some use he could get out of them.

Still he was no closer to escaping his cage. It seemed very solid and he had nothing to help him pound his way out. Perhaps he must transform to his true shape or at least partially. But he must do that quickly while the others were otherwise occupied. Showing his true form was generally not a wise move. It was quite difficult to charm people once they saw his true form as an evil demon. Still it was dark enough and no one seemed to be paying any attention to him at the moment. His relatively normal apperance was a great asset for him in this case. He looked down at his arms which had tripled in thickness and taken on a truely hideous look and turned his back on the other containers and pounded on the glass...