Chapter 11 (Patreon)

This time, we're switching back to Alex for a bit.

This scene really help sets up his arc. I'm trying to balance his whole "asshole with memory loss whose being repeatedly killed and cloned by his father" with moments where he feels competent and engaged. A delicate balancing act, if you will.

Some of this narrative between Jason and Alex feels redundant with Alex's growth in Armageddon -- although, for obvious reasons. So, I've tried to shorten that arc a bit, with the earlier chapter with Alex logging in foreshadowing that Alfred might not have been so passive this time in 'jogging' his memory. Hopefully, that works on the page.

Anyway, onward to more story...

Chapter 11 - Sparkle

Rogue-Net Forums:

Girthquake:  Have you guys seen Jason’s latest stream?  HYYYPE!

XoXoShadowXoXo:  Yeah, just us and a few hundred million other people.  Where have you been?  Living under a rock?  It’s all anyone has been talking about for days now.

Girthquake:  Sorry, been forced to handle some RL stuff.  Lame, I know…

Tina: Ignore the troll.  We’re just waiting for another excuse to report him.

XoXoShadowXoXo:  Funny.  But I’ve learned my lesson.  This account is unkillable!

No One:  Anyone have any clue what Jason and Alexion are planning to announce?  Theories about why Jason was dead?  Maybe someone with the inside scoop in Pax?  I’m stuck in the Twilight Throne right now.  So, RIP… literally.

Itacklefatkids:  Nothing.  Nobody has the rep to reach the city’s inner districts yet.

Mateo:  @No One, still stuck in the Crystal Reach myself.  How’s the dead city?

No One:  Horrible.  We’re basically slave labor.  Quests don’t give shit.  And you can’t even leave since the weakest mobs between here and Pax are three times your level.

Julie:  Nothing worse than traveling for a week just to die and end up EXACTLY WHERE YOU STARTED.  Didn’t realize I was playing a souls-like MMO…

Ballzheimers:  Are you all serious?  Just hire someone with [Illusion] or [Invisibility] to run you through.  Easy mode.

Mateo:  If only we were all rich.  Just need to complete the quest [Digging Through Rocks] x300 to have enough gold for that. And why leave?  Doesn’t sound like Pax is any better.

XoXoShadowXoXo:  Truth.  And it’s only gotten worse with this announcement Jason claims is “coming soon.”  We need a digital plague.  Like look at this shit…

[Screenshot of Pax’s outer ring, the streets crammed to capacity and every rooftop covered in travelers.  There was barely enough room to breathe.]

Girthquake:  Oh look, there’s me!  Gawd I can’t wait.  Hope they announce something cool.”

XoXoShadowXoXo:  With Alexion involved, I doubt it.  Lamest avatar ngl.

Mateo:  Uh, I think you meant Captain Sparkle?

No One:  Except all that glitters is not gold—

                    *

Alex swiped away the Rogue-Net Forum window, his stomach a boiling mess of unwanted emotion.  Mostly anger.  At those stupid assholes online.  At himself for caring…

At the reason he’d gone online looking for a distraction in the first place.

It was almost showtime.  Which is why he was standing on one of the many, many terraces that sprouted from this ridiculous castle made of spires and waterfalls.  The one that jutted from the center of Pax, those twisting columns spearing up into the air and stretching up, up, up until they almost touched the huge crystals hanging overhead.

Who had designed this place?  It looked like something out of an animated children’s film.  Some sort of dream princess castle?  Except why was it always slightly damp?  Even his wings were sticking to his back, which was frustrating since he needed to look perfect for—

“Don’t worry, you look great,” the Lady whispered in his ear as manicured nails slunk across his shoulders.  “Majestic.  Godly.  Don’t let the voices of peasants distract you.

“They are just jealous.  Of your strength.  Your position.  Your power.”

He knew what she was doing – what she’d been doing ever since the meeting a day ago in-game.  Trying to worm her way into his good graces with flattery.  To entice him to reveal the secrets of his relic.  The simple ring wrapping the index finger of his right hand.  The one still filled with gleaming, tantalizing images of his own glory.  That sparkle and glare hiding shadowy images of former speeches in front of flashing cameras and buzzing voices and faceless crowds.  Where Alex had stood mute and still.  A trophy.  Set dressing. 

His father had always done the talking.  He hadn’t trusted Alex.

“What do you see?” the Lady purred, her face beside his, following his gaze as he watched those images dance within the depths of the ring.  “You can tell me.  I can be your guiding light among the darkness.  You just have to trust me.”

Alex grimaced at that—at how close she was to guessing his relic’s unlock condition.  Anger coiled tight in his stomach, enough to break the ring’s spell.  Except his was directed inward; at himself.  Because he was tempted to accept her help, especially when he felt like he was spinning out of control.  When he was filled with this strange… uncertainty.

When his memories no longer felt like his own.

When he wasn’t sure of who he was.

He didn’t like this feeling.  Not at all.

“I can help you,” the Lady purred.  “I can take away your weakness.”

That word was enough to snap him out of it.  He clung to his anger like a lifeline.

Alex stepped away sharply, glaring at the Lady.  “Trust you?” he hissed, keeping his voice low.  “Where has that gotten me in the past?  We have no city.  No army.  A broken relic.  A fraction of the power our mana well held before.  We’re at the mercy of the other avatars and we have no power here.  What a masterful stroke of genius on your part.”

The goddess’ expression warped into a sharp scowl.  “If you had actually followed my advice maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament.”

Her expression and tone reminded him unmistakably of George.  And that just fed the fire.  He was sick of being used as a pawn.  His memories might be cloudy, but they were still there.  Black and white images of another life – a shift in perspective; a distance that offered new clarity. 

All the times he’d been used like a prop by his father.  A whipping post by his mother.

Always a failure.  Not quite measuring up to their expectations.

He was starting to think the game was rigged.

“Maybe it’s time for me to stand on my own.”

“Oh, you think you can?  You?  I can already see fear dimming your light,” the Lady sneered, her strategy shifting as she realized that “love bombing” him wouldn’t work.

Alex’s fingers clenched into fists at her mocking tone, seething.

“You might look strong to others.  Confident.  Brave.  Clever even for suggesting the contracts.  Yet I can see the real you,” she hissed, Alex squeezing his eyes closed from her prying gaze.  “The arrogant prince.  The light show you put on for others hiding what they all secretly knows – that you can’t hack it.  That eventually you’ll fail and betray everyone.

“That’s why the others are suspicious,” she continued, her voice like poison.  “Why you don’t truly understand Jason’s plan for this stream.  Because he didn’t tell you. Didn’t trust you.

“Because you’re weak,” she whispered, her fingers not quite touching that ring.

And as Alex stared into its depths, that word conjured another black and white memory – of a hospital room, of bright sheets.  Except this one was marred by a single dash color.  Blood-red droplets staining stark white fabric.  Blood that came from someone laying in that bed.  Someone he knew.  Someone whose voice was painfully familiar.

Someone whose face he couldn’t quite see—

“You look good.”

Just like that, the trance was broken with more mockery.

“You can go fuck—” Alex snapped, whirling.

Only to cut himself short as he saw Jason standing there.  The necromancer was surveying Alex’s gleaming golden armor, his neatly manicured wings, the crystalline crown perched on his brow, and the unmistakable fury etched across his face.  Jason looked surprised, a single artificial eyebrow arched.  Concern and confusion warring there.  And that only made Alex feel worse.

Since when did he give a shit what Jason thought?

The Lady’s too-pleased smile certainly didn’t fucking help.

What Alex didn’t expect was Jason’s reaction.  In a blur, the necromancer’s arm crept across his shoulders and he was turning him toward the door.

“Ahh, getting into character, huh?” Jason asked.  “I know I said we’re going to be doing a good cop, bad cop sort of thing for the live stream, but I was actually thinking you’d be the good cop.  Obviously, you should be “angry” at me – the villain – but maybe keep the language PG?  It just doesn’t fit with your personal brand…”

As he spoke, Jason was guiding Alex back inside the castle’s throne room.  They had taken over Cady’s “office,” the castle’s throne room now filled with the travelers that Alex had recruited.  Mostly mages.  Light and air and water.  A fantasy set crew – the casters practicing summoning billowing mist, glowing orbs for added light, and panels of invisible, compressed air that acted as a bounce.  Jason insisted Alex needed to “pop” on camera.  Lighting was critical, apparently.

Ironic coming from a guy whose face was perpetually in shadow.

“So, uh, maybe less yelling at the audience?  Make sense?”  Jason finished.  Apparently, he’d still been talking.  Damn it.  He needed to focus.

“Ahh, yeah… I mean, yes,” Alex fumbled, the Lady’s smile widening.

“Great.  Can we get a touch up on Alex please!” Jason called out.  “You just messed up your armor a little there.”  Jason pointed at the blood smeared across his breastplate.

Probably because Alex’s nails were digging into his palm.  A quick healing spell fixed that and a pair of water mages took care of the rest, their wands wiping away the blood before recharging and refreshing Alex’s makeup and glamours and straightening his hair.  He could practically hear the goddess’ sneering thoughts as she watched him done up like a doll.

Yet she had gone strangely silent – her mocking stopping.  Just like it had back during the meeting.  Even more odd, she kept looking at the black cat that was padding along beside Jason as he barked out orders to the rest of the crew.  Had he always had a cat?

And… and was the cat looking at the goddess?  That couldn’t—

“You seem tense,” Jason interjected again, his dark eyes back on Alex.  “Nervous?”

Alex almost lashed out, but restrained himself when he saw no amusement in the necromancer’s pitch black eyes.  Was… was Jason not mocking him?

“Why would you ask that?” Alex managed to bite out, very much conscious of the two water mages fussing over him and the rest of the crew nearby.  They had an audience now.

Jason shrugged.  “It’s just one of the first streams we’ve done together.  You know, besides almost dying in the Mile High Club, but I don’t think that really counts.”

Alex hesitated.  What was he talking about?  It took him longer than he cared to admit to retrieve those memories – hazy faded things.  Just the vague impression of death…

And teamwork?  A sense of belonging?

Just what had they gone through?  Why couldn’t he—

“Hey, still with me?” Jason asked with a snap of his fingers.

Alex blinked.  Swallowed.  Focus.  He needed to focus.

“I, uh, do this all the time,” Alex grunted back.  “I grew up doing events like this…”

He trailed off as Jason glanced at the spellcasting crew skeptically.  Also, the fantasy castle.

“Okay, not quite like this,” Alex admitted reluctantly.  “But my point stands.  I’ve had to go on camera since I was a child.  Public speaking comes naturally to a Lane.”

Another lie.  One the Lady caught with a mocking, arched eyebrow.

“Well, I envy that,” Jason offered solemnly.  “I haven’t found it so easy.”

Alex glanced at him in surprise.  Was he admitting weakness?  And he certainly could have fooled Alex.  During his streams, Jason seemed implacable, unflappable.  His voice and limbs calm and steady.  Projecting a confidence that Alex… well, that he wished he felt right now.

“He’s right.  Our Dark Lord and Savior used to get so nervous,” a new voice piped up, a clownish zombie suddenly appearing at Jason’s shoulder wearing a floppy hat and his fingers plucking at a rakish moustache.

“At least, at first.  Once he’s in the moment, everything else fades way.  Until there’s just the thrill of bloodshed and the fear in his enemies’ eyes,” the roguish undead offered almost wistfully.  “Gosh, I miss those days.”

“Who are you?  What are you?” Alex asked in confusion.

The man-zombie swept into a deep bow.  “Ahh, the name is Jerry.  Rogue, amateur poet, former innkeeper, temporary politician, and now the personal makeup artist to the Lord of Dankness.  Who do you think makes him look so good for his streams, hmm?”

“Uuuuhhhh,” Alex managed.  Even the other crew members were watching now – their expressions a mixture of curiosity and disgust… which soon morphed into fear.

Probably because Jerry summoned his “helper” with a clap of his hands.

“Speaking of which, Grunt fetch my—ahh, that’s perfect!” Jerry chirped as a massive mound of flesh and muscle lumbered over, each footfall causing the throne room to tremble and buck.  The creature that came into view was a horrific mountain of ragged, decaying muscle.  His limbs stapled together and his eyes a smoldering green.

He opened a huge chest of cosmetics for Jerry’s perusal.

Or, at least, that’s what Alex assumed they were.  Although that one looked unmistakably like blood.  And another sizzled when Jerry spilled a few drops.  Clearly acid.

“Is this really necessary?” Jason grumbled, as Jerry picked out a jar and brush, touching up around the necromancer’s eyes.  Were the bristles melting?  “No one is going to see my face.”

“You don’t know that!” Jerry retorted.  “What if you get into character and decide to make another spectacularly horrifying face reveal?  It worked on your last stream.”

The roguish zombie shrugged.  “Besides, a little liner makes your eyes pop. Right, Alex?”

Jason just shot him a long suffering look.

Was this really their normal routine?

“Ahh, sure,” Alex murmured.  “You look… horrifying?”

Jerry hummed with approval.  “I keep telling him to let me take some risks.  A little light blood splatter on his cheeks and hands – properly aged and weathered of course.  That would really bring out the stark white of the bone.  It’s all about creating contrast on camera!”

“Save me,” Jason mouthed at Alex, who found his lips doing something strange.

Was… was this a smile?  Why did it feel so good?

A fact that wasn’t lost on the Lady, her taunting features dropping into a frown.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, noticing Alex glaring at empty space. He needed to be more careful. “Still worried about the stream?  It’s going to be fine.  You’ve got this.”

Hmm, well if the Lady hated this, then maybe he should lean in.

“The comments online are... brutal,” Alex offered gingerly.  “They have me rethinking my pitch.  I’m basically just putting on a light show.  Again.”

He was surprised at how easy the words came, a weird sick feeling curling in his gut as he watched Jason and Jerry mull over his admission.  Suddenly realizing he’d created another moment of weakness; of vulnerability—

“Fuck ‘em,” Jason said finally.

Jerry just nodded along.  “Indeed, they should self-copulate, aggressively.”

At Alex’s surprised expression, Jason continued, “There are plenty of people that hate my whole Edgelord vibe too – some sort of villain cosplay, they call it.  But it works.  We all have strengths and weaknesses.  My strength is mind fucking my enemies.  Unfortunately, that doesn’t make me very trustworthy.  Fool me once, right?

“Your strength is different.  You have an uncanny ability to convince people you’re some saint.  You also bring legitimacy because of your family.  You can convince people to join you. You’ve certainly suckered plenty of other idiots into helping you, right?”

Alex wasn’t even sure what to say to that.  That was almost a compliment?

“You can also guide ships lost in a fog,” Jerry added with a grin.

“Or throw one hell of a concert,” one of Alex’s makeup artists added.

“Maybe lure unsuspecting travelers into the woods.”  That was Jason that time.

And then a second impossible thing happened that day.  Alex laughed.

It wasn’t much.  Just a chuckle.

But honestly, it felt like it was the first time.

“There you go,” Jason clapped him on the shoulder.  “Relax.  You have the easy part.”

It turned out Alex’s amusement was short-lived.  Because that touched on one of his concerns—

“What exactly is your part in this?” Alex asked. Jason had explained that Alex needed to make the initial pitch – to be the “good cop.”  However, he’d been light on the rest of the details.

“If they don’t buy your pitch, I’ll help close the deal,” Jason offered with a shrug.  The other crew members didn’t seem to be buying it either.  Some even looked a little nervous.

“Not that it matters.  They’ll totally accept your offer.  Don’t worry,” Jason insisted.

And now Alex was feeling very worried for some reason – as was most of the crew now.  However, at least he knew what to call this uncomfortable tight feeling in his stomach now.

“Do you really think the travelers are going to accept the pitch?” Alex insisted.

Jason shrugged.  “Why not.  It makes sense for them.”

“To give up 8 hours of real world play time?  More than a day in-game?”

“Hey, this was your idea,” Jason shot back.  “You having second thoughts?”

Yes, of course.  The thought came too fast for Alex to stop it, the Lady looking pleased.

Yet he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that out loud.  He was going to do what he did best.  What his PR handlers had taught him long ago.  Confidence was all about pretending.  If he acted self-assured for long enough, eventually he would start to believe the lie.  Hopefully.  Honestly, it was more difficult without that chilly, numbing voice in his head egging him on.

Ahh, and Jason was still watching him expectantly.

“No, of course not,” he replied evenly.  “But what do you plan to say if it doesn’t work?”

“Whatever he needs to,” Jerry offered like it was obvious as he shaved down Jason’s cheek bones with a grinder until they formed a cutting edge.  Literally.  He tested it by conscripting one of the still-living crew over their vigorous protests, Grunt holding them still.   Then the undead innkeeper started working the ensuing droplets of blood into the bone.

“Yeah, what he said,” Jason added.  The crew was keeping their distance now.

Probably because the woman Grunt was holding was still clutching her hand.

“Sure, right,” Alex offered slowly.  “Except you plan to say what exactly?”

Jason and Jerry just looked at each other, pitch black orbs meeting milky white globes.  Their bony, undead lips curled into sadistic smiles that sent a shiver down even Alex’s spine.

“It’s, uh, not so much what I plan to say as what I plan to do,” Jason said.

Alex’s eyes went wide.   He couldn’t mean—

“Are you planning to kill them?  All of them?” he hissed.

“There you go!” Jason shot back.  “That’s perfect.  Just project that same empathy and concern on camera and I’m sure you’ll nail it.”

Alex grimaced.  “I’m not pretending.  I’m genuinely concerned.  If you start a war inside Pax, do we have the manpower to finish it?  They’ll kill us all.”

And now the crew was definitely listening.  All movement had stopped.

A fact that Jason noticed too.  “Can’t kill us if we’re already dead,” he replied with a grin, nudging Jerry with his elbow.  The former innkeeper turned make-up artist thought it was hilarious.

Except no one else did.  In fact, a few of the crew were backing toward the door slowly.

Jason gestured at Jerry and the zombie stepped in.  “All right, ladies and gents, on that dark and foreboding note, it’s almost show time!  Everyone get into position!  We start recording in two minutes.  Plenty of time to pray for forgiveness to whatever deity you prefer!”

A few members of the crew had the good sense to try to run, but they never made it to the hallway, a few daggers embedded in their backs.  Alex hadn’t even seen Jerry move.  Grunt helped “motivate” the rest to get to their places.  He just had to cross his enormous arms and glare.

“I’m serious.  Are you planning to kill the travelers?” Alex demanded as Jason steered him toward the terrace.  “I need to know if you’re planning something—”

“Of course not,” Jason reassured him, Alex relaxing slightly—

“I mean, obviously, the PVP flag is still a problem.”  He cocked his head, humming in thought.  “I’d probably have to tag them all first.  Which is crazy.  Almost impossible really… without proper planning anyway.”

What the hell had he just said?  That was definitely impossible—

“Cady says she’s ready to broadcast,” Jerry chirped, a familiar blue sphere flickering into existence in front of Alex as he stood on that terrace once more.  “T-minus 10 seconds until the stream begins,” the innkeeper continued.  “Everyone quiet on set!”

Which was harder than it sounded.  The crew was muttering and shaking.  A few were even sobbing silently.  Probably the corpses of their coworkers slowly bleeding out behind them.  However, those muttered protests quickly cut off with another wave from Jason, small needle-like spears of darkness embedded in a few dozen arms and legs in an instant – the crew clutching at their throats and pantomiming in horror.  His Curse of Tongues.

Then his dark gaze was back on Alex, oddly reassuring.

“Don’t worry.  You’ve got this.  And, uh, sorry in advance about anything I say… or do,” Jason offered to Alex.  “Just remember, we both have to get into character.  It’s all an act.”

“What?  What the hell are you talking about?” Alex whispered frantically.

But it was too late, Jason was already backing away and waving at his head like he couldn’t hear.  Which was ridiculous since he didn’t even have ears.  Alex and the crew could only glare silently as Jason counted down with his bony fingers.  All of them wondering the same thing.  All of them asking the same question.  What the hell was the plan here?

But it was too late.  Because it was showtime.

So, Alex turned, looked into the camera, smiled, and leaned into his “strength.”

In other words, he turned on the fucking sparkle.