“… As to my rights,” Quigley/Skeeve intoned, not looking around, “I’m under contract to use my magikal powers to help keep the peace in Vey-gus and Ta-Hoe. The way I see it, that includes stopping brawls when I happen across them . . . which I’ve just done. To that end, I’m declaring the game over. The current score stands as final.”
With that, the cage/wards began migrating toward their respective tunnels, herding the players within along with them. Needless to say, the crowd did not approve.
“You . . . you can’t do that!” the official’s spokesman screamed over the rising tide of boos from the stands. “The most exciting plays happen in the last few minutes!”
As a final flourish, Quigley/Skeeve levitated the fallen players on the field down the tunnels after their teammates.
“I’ve done it,” he said. “What’s more, I intend to do it at every scheduling of this barbaric game when things get out of hand. My contract is up for renewal soon, and I realized I’ve been a bit lax in my duties. Consequently, I thought I’d remind you of exactly what it is you’re keeping on the payroll. If you don’t like it, you can always fire me.”
I smiled and shook my head in appreciation. I had to hand it to the Kid. If attacking the dimension’s favorite pastime didn’t get Quigley canned, I didn’t know what would.
“You shut down the game?”
That was Quigley expressing his appreciation for Skeeve’s help.
We were back at his place with our disguises off and the magician revived. Apparently our assistance wasn’t quite what he had been expecting.