Alternative Reality Vol 1

by A Uscila

  Either way - Willow turned towards the oppressed with all her body. Head slightly lowering - eyes seemingly jumping from one object to the other. Visiting all, except Luke. Even though he was the one to whom Willow wanted to talk.

  “Truth be told, there was a reason why I invited you out” - She seemed to struggle - having a hard time saying that which she tried to so desperately - “I have bad news…” - The suspense was killing Luke. Heck, just spit it out, without trailing off to a dramatic finale.

  Chapter 34

  “Well? So what’s the reason? You’re as indecisive as ever…” - Simon complained nonchalantly, as if the situation he was in right now was a normal one. Voice barren of any agitation or haste. Even though Luke was still being held by the collar like some ragdoll. You’d think that his mood would reflect the hostile action at least in some manner.

  It feels like ages went by - the scene remaining the same for the duration. Willow was still standing with her head slightly lowered - struggling with her own self. Luke was still being oppressed - though this time physically. He should really start working out - if not looks, then at least he’d have a body. Which would serve as some form of self-reinforcement. A mental one.

  Heck, if one would add up a solid body and Luke’s looks - no one would actually dare attack him. Unless some hero in shining armor - arriving to save the town from the oppression of this scary ogre.

  Either way - seeing as Simon, who was mostly unrelated with the issue, was about to break the silence - Luke couldn’t hold it in any longer either. Might be partly due to his burdened bladder - threatening to spill. Drinking water before leaving on a long journey with no toilet in sight - not the best idea out there. What an uncomfortable situation.

  “You’re leaving the group?” - Impatiently - Luke tried to guess. Though it did not seem to be the case.

  “What? No. I…” - Willow jumped at the sudden question, yet again knocked off tracks. God, this was taking forever.

  “You want a larger cut of the spoils? Or you’ll leave?” - He tried again, oblivious of the atmosphere. Though truth be told - these were the kind of bad news he could imagine. Not like a strong bond was present between the two.

  “Huh? No, for fuck’s sake!” - Angrily, Willow replied while cutting though air with her left hand - as if to slice through Luke’s twisted sense of loss - “You’re not even giving me a cut to begin with!” - She then added, glaring at him with full bloom at this point.

  “Then…you’re kicking me out of the group - because everyone else became a slave to your irresistible charms? Thus you’re going to become a Bandit Queen - a scourge to all, including me. Seeing as I’d be a liability and a nuisance if left alive - thus my head on a silver platter would quell your consciousness. All in all - solidifying your hold on a position so hardly earned? And thus you’re leaving the group. My former group - and creating your own? Which was basically - mine before?” - Exploding in idiocy, Luke tried a third time - expanding the far-fetched idea and fear to dramatic lengths. Quite thick headed - since he used the same basic concept three times in a row. Even though it was quite clear that the same answer, used repeatedly - won’t be any more correct than the first time. Although, it seemed quite the effective way to direct the conversation away from sharing the spoils.

  “Irresistible charms…” - Willow trailed off, seemly captivated by this well-placed compliment. Oh that Luke - a real lady’s man. Or at least a man for crazy. Though the effect didn’t last for long - “And…what? Do you actually want me to leave the stinking group? Why are all three options related to me leaving!?- She now shouted even. Clearly - Willow was dissatisfied with something. Though Luke was having a hard time trying to understand the precise reason for it.

  This conversation was reaching quite a high level of discomfort - to which Luke was quite susceptible. Simon on the other hand - was staring wide eyed, and open mouthed. Taken aback by the pace their conversation was derailing into ridiculousness. He even forgot for what exact reason did he grab Luke by the collar. Though the hold kept on regardless.

  Willow buried her face in her hands and groaned in frustration. Seems like this was Luke’s win - as he smirked self-righteously. Lost in his own delusions.

  “At this point, I don’t even want to tell you anymore…God. You’re insufferable!” - Willow practically moaned, though her lips were twitching due to a smile being held off. Luke really was ridiculous and Willow kept on lifting the bar to define her beauty. Life was one big joke.

  “Whoah whoah whoah! Aren’t you two a little too buddy-buddy? I’m totally being left out here - even though I was supposed to be at the center at center stage!” - Simon finally woke up from the trance of actually being left out, shaking Luke by the collar ever so slightly at the end of his speech. What a stuck-up statement.

  “We got it already, so stop shaking me. I have motion sickness - you wouldn’t want me to puke all over you, now would you?” - Luke commented with a fed-up tone, completely shooting down the one who was about to beat the living hell out of him. What a brave man - “So? What are the bad news? Or am I supposed to continue guessing?” - Once that was done and over with, he turned to Willow once again.

  “Bob died” - after taking a deep breath, Willow decided to let it rip in one go. Quite the bomb she dropped - as Luke did seem quite stunned. His eyes kept on going wider and wider - a blank look staring away though Willow. Seemingly unable to comprehend the given info - “I’m sorry, I…” - Willow tried to continue and let the poor dude down gently, yet Luke seemed to have different concerns.

  “What about the caravan? Is it safe?” - Desperation was a little too clear to miss - as Luke looked on pleadingly. As if hoping for a favorable reply.

  Unable to keep up eye-contact - Willow was forced to turn away. As if afraid to disappoint. As if all she could give - were bad news.

  “It was stolen. Bob fought valiantly - even managed to break the wagons, to slow the bastards down…” - Yet again, before Willow could finish the, surely, interesting story - Luke interrupted.

  “Stolen? Stolen? From me!?” - He suddenly shouted, with increasing magnitude - exploding in a fury that was completely uncommon for the totally domesticated nature of this man. It was actually the first time Willow saw him this way. Simon seemed quite surprised as well - as he slowly released Luke from his less than iron grip and backed away a bit.

  Smart move. For Luke was a greedy man - coveting all material possessions. Since he couldn’t have any other. Thus the monetary loss - of which he was just informed, seemed to anger the sociopath greatly.

  That treasure was most of what he had in Alternative Reality - the probable profit from selling all of it would have paved a straight road to success. Heck, Luke planned on buying land, people - a happy life. If not in this one - he’d at least be happy in Alternative Reality.

  Yet. Once again, life crushed his dreams, hopes, plans. There was always something. Something that got in the way, something that went wrong, something that simply didn’t happen at all.

  Why was life so harsh on Luke? He did not choose to be born the way he was. He did not choose this life - and yet no matter how he struggled to change it for the better, none of it seemed to bear fruit.

  Who was the bastard that preached about success resulting from hard work? Who was the bastard that dared give hope to the hopeless?

  No matter how hard Luke gripped life in between those skeletal fingers of his - it always slipped away like some fish. Caught only to be let back into the water. Of course, there was a slight possibility that he was just somewhat incompetent.

  In Luke’s eyes - money was the only solid possession he had, the only thing that would stay true to him. Something that would not betray his expectations. If Luke had money - people would be forced to recognize his existence. They would be forced to feign smiles, affection. What they wouldn’t feign - was the need for the benefits that money brought - the need for Luke. Even though anyone with money would do - it didn’t
need to necessarily be him.

  Nothing was more beautiful than the strained expressions of those who tried to kiss up. Especially to someone like Luke. An ugly existence both inside and out. Nothing warmed up Luke’s heart more, than the thought of how much inner struggle and suffering, being under someone like him - brought to the people around. How much effort they’d need to put into shallow excuses and self-brainwashing just to get by day to day. If Luke could help it - he’d want to have enough money to force people to stay with him for weeks upon weeks. Just to see how people break down. How the excuses and delusions could no longer hold in their stress and anguish.

  Yes. Luke was indeed a bitter and petty existence. It was the world that created him though. It plastered that definition on him. Unbearable. Unwanted. Despicable. Luke was not born with any of that. He was born as white as a sheet. A crumpled one - yet white nonetheless. And it was the world that placed all the black on it. The world that informed him on how and what he actually was. Judging him and his actions superficially - making hastened conclusions without sparing a second for considerations regarding the circumstances that might come of it.

  Now? As if that was not enough - they take away the only gateway to numb the pain. If God existed - he was either completely half-assed and uncaring, or an evil apparition. A God who either created humanity on a whim, with minimal effort and plenty of issues left unsolved. Or one, who took great pleasures in causing suffering for his creations. Created in the image of himself. Since Luke preferred the latter for obvious reasons of self-justification - that is precisely why he’ll struggle. Like any other religiously driven individual - Luke will struggle. All to be closer to the image of God. A cruel and merciless God.

  Grim determination consumed Luke. Like a madman locked onto his prey - he walked past the stunned Simon.

  “Willow” - With eyes transfixed upon Willow’s, he stepped right next to her and rigidly held her by both shoulders, startling the poor little thing - “Did you track the thieves? Did you track them to their hideout?” - Without blinking, which was quite unsettling - he continuously stared into Willow’s eyes. Hands gripping those slender shoulders with increasing strength. Yet - it did seem like Luke was holding back quite a bit. He didn’t want to scare off the only source of information he had in reach, after all.

  “Y-yes…” - Willow replied - seemingly quite startled, since she was unable to maintain a straight voice - stuttering ever so slightly. No doubt dumbstruck by the sudden close proximity to Luke and the unexpected forceful approach. Wasn’t she the one who was doing the chasing and lavishing in the spoils of social superiority? Taking great joy in stepping on a man who had no real fight in him, no real way to contend against her? Oh, how the tables have turned. For Luke was on the offensive. And boy was he scary to look at up-close - “It was some local lord - I followed a few of the men into a castle town bearing banners in the same colors as the thieves. It wasn’t remarkably big or anything, but…” - Willow started explaining, after managing to maintain her own composure. Revealing a resolute will - seeing as she finally managed to regain composure and talk normally after standing face to with Luke. Face to face with a pure horror of an earthly nature.

  “Can you guide me to there?” - Luke asked without waiting to hear the whole explanation - impatience practically leaking from his pores. Though that was actually sweat - running down his skin in whole drops. Two possibilities. Either he was extremely excited about the possibility of retribution. Or - he was getting very nervous - since being this close and actually touching a female of Willow’s magnitude might have been more than his nerves could take. Though, as if disagreeing with his own bodily reactions - Luke practically drilled into Willows skulls with his stare. Eyes ready to pop out of their sockets, accompanied by a bulging vain on the forehead.

  Seems like the low blood pressure problem has been all but forgotten - as it most likely rose quite a bit above the healthy norm.

  “Umm...yes. It’s just a really long walk - that’s why I decided to inform you outside of the game instead - seeing as it would be a little quicker” - Willow replied, throwing in an excuse just to somehow shine herself in a redeeming light.

  Quite the slip of the tongue though - seeing it was already nearing evening. A chunk of the day already gone.

  “And instead of telling me right at my doorstep - you invited me outside and wasted most of the day away doing anything, except giving me that exact info?” - A raised eyebrow, an obviously cold and agitated voice. Yep - Luke was not pleased, not even in the least.

  “Whoah, hey! Back off of her, ok?” - Simon suddenly intervened, like a knight in shining armor. He grabbed Luke by the shoulder and tried gently, yet assertively – reassert his position as the alpha here. Using the situation to prove his worth, act as a gentleman - and receive points with Willow and his own ego.

  An unexpected reaction was forthcoming.

  “I’ll eat your soul!” - Luke roared in an unsettling voice, after quickly turning to face Simon. A cracking noise coming from the neck - that just performed an overdone twist.

  “What, the fuck…” - Obviously, Simon instantly backed off - a smart decision. Willow seemed quite shocked as well - since her eyes opened widely. Mouth, moments away from forming into a wide O. Creepy.

  Both expressed quite a normal reaction - since a phrase used by a mug of Luke’s caliber - surely deserved a comparison with a quality horror movie.

  “I’m going back home. So are you” - Luke added once he turned back to lock eyes with Willow. Seems like he decided to pick up the conversation from where it was left off - while using his normal voice - “I’ll assemble a war party and we’ll be leaving to that town of theirs. We’ll take back what’s mine, capture the lord and deal with his men. I’ll think of something specific for the lord later”

  By the time he was done dictating his orders - Luke received a reply from Simon, who - by now, seemed to get back to his senses.

  A punch knocked on Luke’s left cheek - forcing the poor guy to turn to the opposite side quite a bit. Luckily - it did not knock him out - nor did it break anything. Hopefully.

  Yet, even though it was Simon who was on the offensive - the lack of reaction from the recipient seemed to dishearten him quite a bit. Thus, seconds were not offered.

  Willow, quite anticipant for a continuation - waited with abated breath.

  Yet nothing happened. Luke twisted his neck left and right a few times - seemingly checking if the hit didn’t strain any muscles. Once that was done and over with - he patted Willow’s right shoulder two times and motioned her to follow with his chin.

  “Let’s go” - Without waiting for a reply - he started walking away. Leaving those pushy words behind. As if someone was going to actually listen. Since when does Luke have the right to actually order people around, outside of Alternative Reality? All he had, was hope, shining faintly in his inner mind, that a certain someone would indeed follow - “To war!” - As if that wasn’t enough - Luke was cocky enough to add a totally cliché phrase, clearly unable to contain the excitement in his gut. Vocalizing it in quite the overdone voice, eyes rolling upwards, towards the sky, together with both arms that rose up in lightning fast speed. All of which performed almost in unison. What a lunatic.

  Luckily - no one else had to witness Luke’s grotesque expression. Free from the nightmares that might come due to that.

  Luke ended up being quite impulsive. Quite brave as well. After being seconds away from a continuous pummeling - which he did avoid luckily. Very luckily - considering how insolently he used the soul-eating nonsense. As if that wasn’t enough - he left in a manner that did not fall short of a request for a good ass-kicking. Yet - he just could not resist. One of those “must-say” things, in his weird inner list.

  Regrettably - his thoughtless actions only added up to lessen the chance of someone actually following. Since both Willow and Simon seemed quite taken aback. Willow most likely reluctant to even consider following. After all, e
verybody knows that you’re not supposed to get involved with the wrong kind of crazy. Which Luke undoubtedly was.

  Yet - all logic and care for the consequences seemed to fade. A burning heat, constantly heated up Luke’s senses - forcing them to roll uncontrollably towards a bitter end. A mixture of anger, excitement and expectation. Revenge. Everything seemed completely insignificant before it. So bent on the thought Luke was - that even if Willow didn’t follow and assist in it - he’d still jump head in. Uncaring for any additional circumstances that might come out of this emotional decision.

  What might come may come.

  What a day indeed.

  Chapter 35

  Dark and depressing was the night - as thick clouds hung oppressively low, threatening to crush the land below. Their whirling mass trashing about in a fury - guided by a relentless force, invisible to the eye. Every now and then a narrow slit would open up as if a doorway to another world - a milky white peeking through for a moment or two. A shy round sphere of a moon, unable to contain that curiosity of his - offering a pale light to those below. Those desperate enough to appreciate this beggars’ commodity.

  Seeping through the moaning mass of leaves and branches - the light teased a stretched out procession of hunched individuals. Shrinking within the cloaks that each and every single one wore - its’ ends struggling to escape. To give in to the bossy needs of the chilly wind that came down from the heavens. Like a thousand knives it raked those below - ripping through cloth and skin, yet leaving not a single wound. All with the help of a light drizzle that served to soften the defenses for the remorseless torture.