You are happily going about your day when you vanish in a puff of smoke. Suddenly you’re standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is hell, and we’re the demons, and you’ve just been summoned. -- Chara Dreemurr
Most low-wage jobs involve a stupid cardboard hat and the phrase, "can I take your order". None of them involve the chance to sit down because people like to see the underpaid working for their pittance. This one had equally daft plastic horns as part of the polyester uniform because Caf-fiend was that type of place.
So when Mar stepped through the steam of the bean roast and into a circle of runes, it was not quite obvious that things had gone awry. The stockroom was famously blowing out lights and the smell was similar to that of the dungeon. It was the feel of the cobblestone floor beneath her sandshoes that alerted her that something was off. That, and the robed figure with the enormous tome. Also the skulls currently being used as candleholders. The dead chicken on the stone altar was a definite violation of health and safety regs.
"Avaunt, foul fiend," said the hooded being. "Thou art mine and must therefore do my bidding."