by A Uscila
Nobody liked trouble. Nobody liked to be around it and even more – be involved in it. Nobody liked to be inconvenienced. Thus – all the dissatisfaction was aimed at yours truly. The easiest target around. Now, one might ask, why Luke? Why not the waiter?
Simple. The waiter maintained a general calm, an outward image of righteousness. He was quieter as well and seemed to represent the needs of all those present. While Luke was bent on pushing the issue and wasn’t as calm or collected. Or simply put – nobody liked Luke and simply due to that reason, he was the one to receive the blame. It didn’t matter that the issues he brought up might have had validity to it. It didn’t matter that the staff failed to inform a customer, a poor one, but a customer nonetheless - of their decision of refraining from service. For at least thirty minutes to boot – wasting the customer’s time in the process and having a hand in maintaining a stiff and somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere because of it. All of it – irrelevant in the face of a quick and easy solution. Which was to get rid of Luke.
“Make me” – Luke felt bold today. Brave, daring even. Or to be more precise and realistic – destructive. Thus, uncharacteristically, he chose to stand ground. To resist.
A truly sinister smile flashed within the waiter’s facial features for but a moment. Long enough for Luke’s keen eyes to notice. Or his mind to imagine. Regardless of which one was closer to reality – Tom acted almost instantaneously, as if expecting all of it from the get go.
“I’m going to enjoy this…” – He practically whispered, all the while inching bit by bit towards poor Luke. As a predator would towards a gazelle. Or maybe a giraffe. Heck, a herbivore.
“…I’ll be sure to remember you when I’m back in Alternative Reality…” – Powerless, the victim could only blow air. Empty words, meant more to maintain his own image, his confidence, than to actually help the situation in any way shape or form. As a matter of fact – it might have made it even worse, as the waiter now cracked his knuckles.
“…Now sir, there is no need to threaten me, please, leave the establishment” – Tom commented in an over-exaggerated manner, voice raised loudly enough for many nearby to hear. Truly devious. Yet ingenious enough to spark awe in the victim’s inner mind. For in front of him – was a man worthy of respect. A true and proper manipulator. An insidious mind, capable of bending the masses to his favor.
It could not stand. Thus awe was soon replaced by jealousy in an overwhelming torrent of emotion. Luke’s glare coming into view with all its’ hideous glory. Matters were about to turn ugly.
Five minutes later, Luke was walking down a sidewalk towards the nearest bus stop – an ache in his shoulder ever reminding of the complete and utter loss. The embarrassment of a lost physical competition burning more than the actual aches. A stream of curses slipping through clenched teeth in a weird mumble – one that attracted the gazes of quite a few passerby’s. None of which were even remotely friendly or sympathetic, of course.
“I’m definitely not giving them more than two stars…” – A petty revenge. Yet it would have to do - the thought a soothing remedy to the inside wounds. For Luke was exactly that – petty.
*******
Luke really despised the outside. The annoyingly bright and intrusive rays of the sun. The ever-bellowing noises of the city. The restless masses, the people that always had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, something to do and even spared time to glare or look at Luke with displeasure. Yes, he hated people the most. And thus – he disliked public transportation as well, but that’s what a man needed to take when he didn’t have a car. Didn’t have and didn’t plan on getting. Too costly – an expense that diverted too many valuable monetary assets from the prime objective. Alternative Reality.
Thus here he was, in a bus. Surrounded by people, pushed against the walls – his back touching glass. His position beset on all sides by people, even the front. Because there would always be some tall fellow who decided to completely ignore Luke’s presence and stand 1 centimeter in front, his back practically leaning against our scrawny protagonist’s shabby frame.
Things never did go well once outside his respite. His hideout. His home. Why not escalate even further, then? After all – it couldn’t get any worse.
Or could it?
Eventually, after all those present reshuffled their positions, inter-exchanging in-between each other – with some stepping out and new ones stepping in – a new persona arrived. Stopping way too deep in Luke’s personal space to be comfortable.
What leaned against the window right beside him – was a creature not of this world. A golden haired heart-collector. A devil in disguise.
And what a disguise it was.
Short, golden hair twirled along her shoulders, a leather jacket worn upon them, while a lovely blue dress peeked out beneath. Its’ length reaching no more than the knees, while the low neckline practically demanded a glance at her bust. An action that enraged Luke quite a bit – for he fell for it and could only curse at the defeat. At the tactfully maneuver that played with his primitive male tendencies. After all – he did not like to lose. Ever.
More pressing matters needed attention though, since such close proximity to a lovely creature demanded a certain level of egocentrism on Luke’s part. A tendency that he fully indulged himself in, as his mind swirled out of control. Fear of rejection before it could even come. Thought’s too slippery to grab, escalating together with his natural bodily reactions. Breaths became ragged, each one demanding ever greater effort as time went by – for he became increasingly self-conscious regarding it. Attempts to keep the breathing at normal sound level’s a strain that demanded all of his attention. Eventually – the symptoms hit his face muscles, as the constant strain and tension had its’ own effects. The feeling of facial muscles twitching, imagined or not, taking hold. His eyes darting about to each present passenger in search of any who would notice. A fear taking hold, as some would meet his eyes – though it was doubtful that they looked upon Luke due to his actions and not simply due to his provided attention. A circus performance, indeed.
Indeed – Luke was really bad in public places and ever more so when someone was standing in such close proximity. Not just someone, though, but a woman. A female that occasionally bumped shoulders with the stressed-out scarecrow every time the bus made a sudden stop or so. Physical contact? At this point, Luke began thinking that she was doing it on purpose to spite him. His legs occasionally shifting as far away as possible – side hitting handrails eventually. No escape in sight – as the distance was still too close for comfort.
“Excuse me?” – All of a sudden, the angel spoke – drawing Luke’s gaze as if by some invisible hook. A desperate hope for the impossible the driving force behind it, no doubt. Panicked eyes met light blue ones. A somewhat sarcastic smile, lovely, yet sharp facial features.
Speechless, he could only stare in wonder. Lost in what to say, how to react. For he knew the very instance their eyes met – that she was definitely something unattainable. Something to marvel at, placed upon a pedestal, behind unbreakable glass. Never to be touched. Never to be approached or spoken to.
For Luke at least.
“Have we met before? I believe I’ve seen you somewhere…” – She added, her grin broadening. Obviously – satisfied with the effect her very presence had on poor, little Luke. Victory after victory stacking upon each other.
Pride could not allow it to continue – thus the besieged had no choice but to assume the only attitude he could properly maintain no matter the situation. Hostility.
“No. I don’t believe we did” – He replied strictly, lips pressed against each other, while his gaze wandered to the side in clear disinterest to continue.
“Weird, I’m pretty sure I did see you before. Do you perhaps, spend time in Alternative Reality?” – Not a single moment of respite, the attacks continued on, her upper body leaning ever so slightly towards the target. A feigned interest, through feigned bodily language.
/> Nothing fools Luke.
“None of your business” – He shot back, all the while shuffling further away – towards the door. A retreat was in order – for the situation was getting out of hand.
“Ah, so you do? I knew you looked familiar. There’s this great bandit king in Onnion Kingdom I heard of. He seemed really amazing…” – She continued, all the while threatening to cut off Luke’s escape, following along in stalk like movement. Predicting each step as if an experienced hunter. A cat playing with a mouse – “Oh, I’m Sophie, by the way” – An arm, extending just as the introduction was given without a shred of sympathy. Merciless in execution.
“You got me mixed up with someone. I don’t know what you’re talking about” – He had no intention of returning the gesture, resisting the temptation to hold that delicate hand of hers. To share in the warmth – something that his instincts screamed for. With an unexpectedly aggressive approach – he slipped past Sophie’s side and arrived at the doorway to freedom. A stop coming into view mere moments away. Salvation – “And frankly – there is no need for introduction, because I believe we’ll never meet again. Good day” – a cool line, shot almost as the bus stopped and the doors opened. All – a tactical maneuver to have the last word in this duel of far from equal individuals. Numerous hostile and ill-meaning stares thrown towards Luke from all sides by strangers, glimpsed at just as he turned and stepped out.
“Oh, but I believe we will, Wail. We most definitely will…” – Yet, no matter what, matters simply would not go according to his plans, to his wishes – as Sophie did manage to squeeze in an ominous foretelling. A warning. A threat – her smile now a full-blown smirk. Eyes narrowed ever so slightly as if to make fun of Luke and his pathetic efforts to save his self-confidence. To maintain his pride. The shocking scene burned into his eyes as the doors closed, separating the two from each other – her deep blue eyes still locked upon the poor escapee. While her lean figure leaned against the glass doorway. So close, yet so far away – the distance becoming more apparent as the bus drove away. Leaving Luke behind – frozen and unmoving. Left behind in the same spot he stepped onto after getting off.
A foreboding lingering in the air.
Chapter 57
A gentle breeze rustled the forest in its’ passing, helping keep back the ever-encroaching stillness that the setting sun brought about. An evening tightening its’ hold upon the environment with each passing moment, while the inhabitants of this green kingdom were succumbing to their internal clocks. Preparing for the much-deserved rest.
Not Wail though.
With a cruel anticipation that foretold of uncalled for violence to come – he hid behind a bush. Mirroring the actions of many individuals with similar expressions. Bandits, clothed in studded leather. Armed with bows and swords. Every single one shrouded by uncharacteristic professionalism. An order that was so uncommon to this rowdy bunch, yet engraved firmly within their minds by the looks of it. Heck, even minion number one seemed relatively tame, as he stood silently in an awkward pose. Though it was unknown by whose making, for Wail, most certainly did not possess the leadership skills for something of the sort.
It has been at least two hours of patient waiting, as the group observed a nearby forest road from behind their nature given refuge. An obvious setup for an ambush.
Evenings gloom slowly turned to darkness, as the night was almost upon them, yet with unwavering tenacity and limitless patience the group remained silent and unmoving.
Things could not continue this way for much longer. Alternative Reality would not stand for it. Thus, the unexpected, expectantly happened.
A slow, yet insistent tap on the shoulder startled Wail – as he twisted his head around to witness the perpetrator. An unsatisfied gaze turning hostile as he interpreted the actions as a means to humiliate. Too common was such intent in Wail’s eyes and his experience did not permit anything other as justification.
Behind the insecure warlock – stood an old man. His frail and shaky frame held upright by a walking cane, upon which he leaned heavily.
Where did he come from? How did he get here? Nobody knew, as a number of raised eyebrows ended up being directed towards the guest.
“What the hell…” – Wail began, only to be cut-off quite rudely by the senior.
“…ah, there you are, great one” – He began with a rasp. A cough soon following in an attempt to clear up the throat. Or the awkwardness – “I’ve been looking for you. You see – there is a matter of deep personal importance to me and I sincerely ask for your help…” - the old man began, obliviously.
“Quiet down, you fool! I’m not helping you with anything! This is not…” – Wail attempted again, his voice, unremarkably – in quite the higher pitch than the accused.
“…It all happened long ago, you see…”
“God damn it old man, get out of here before I roast you!” – Wail heatedly intervened, while the old man continued on completely unshaken by the hostile attitude.
“…I was young back then, you see…” – Reminiscence sparkled in his weary eyes, as the old man turned his gaze towards the forest canopy.
“Didn’t you hear me?! I ain’t helping you!” – Wail roared at this point, a number of hushes coming from the surrounding bandits, as they placed fingers to their lips. Desperate to help Wail get the hint. It wasn’t working.
“I think it was spring back then…it was beautiful…” – The old man continued still. A peculiar change taking place during the last echoes of his story, while Wail’s vision began to slowly distort. A new sight intermixing between the reality and the upcoming flashback.
“No, no, no, no! I said I’m not interested! I don’t want no stinking flashback!” – He screamed in desperation, while his hands waved about with no visible effect, as he soon found himself in a completely different environment.
A serene field of grass and flowers, bordered by a sea of trees stretching out into the horizon. Wail – now stood atop a green hill, together with the old man. Still frustrated, still waving about and jumping around in frustration. A swear slipped in-between every second word. Fire-balls coming into existence as if materializations of his anger.
Yet the flashback continued regardless, the old man’s voice echoing in the background as the scene was being set.
The valley was peaceful that evening - almost blissful, as I - quite the young man at the time - contemplated the purpose of my existence. The sun was shinning brightly, the birds were chirping, smoke was rising to the air as fires raged across the forest....wait...fires?!
Suddenly, the flashback was interrupted as the old man turned to regard his surroundings - finally reacting to the crazed warlock‘s actions. Surprised, he turned back towards Wail, only to see an image of terror.
With a mixture of a sinister stare and deeply furrowed brows – the destructive magician danced about in a fury, throwing about fire in every direction. A scene of carnage already birthed by his honest performance.
Distraught and in a panic, the old man jumped towards the raging fires, his age all but forgotten as a new show of energy came to view. His crooked feet stomping upon isolated pockets of flame in an attempt to extinguish them.
“What the hell is this!? Stop ruining my flashback!” – He shouted.
And that was it. The scene distorted once more and slowly returned to what it once was. Almost, that is.
For what Wail performed within the flashback – carried across to reality, as he now observed with his mouth wide open in surprise, a scene of carnage so familiar. The only difference being that it was his squad of bandits who were busy extinguishing the forest and prancing about in a panic. Their point of ambush all, but ruined. An echoing horn heard in the horizon. Its’ sound a message far from pleasant to the disorganized group – since their position was now illuminated by the ever-raging flame.
“What the heck are you doing, you idiot?!” – Willow, shouted in outrage – her lithe figure rushing out from a nearb
y bush in a disheveled fury, the usual dark cloak fluttering behind. While occasionally getting stuck on various branches, which added to the anger, most likely. A true whirlwind, this one.
Distraught – the mage could only look upon what went about in a speechless daze.
*******
With ragged breaths, Wail jumped about – avoiding tangled roots and ducking at times to do the same with crisscrossing branches. His flight followed by an occasional feathered projectile, arrows piercing into surrounding trees inches away from his persona. Luck still on his side, lovely.
With a crazed grin, the warlock conjured a fireball and threw it backwards with an acrobatic feat of desperation, not skill, as he twisted about after an opportune jump. Tightly grown tree’s, surrounded on all sides by thick growth, came into view - a shroud of darkness adding to the dangerous mystery of the view. Its’ looming form torn asunder by the flying fireball that shed a sphere of light to the darkness - only to slam into a random tree trunk. What was revealed? Well, a charging and ever gaining group of people, supposedly – hostile. Some of them wore the usual yellow tabards, indicated their allegiance, while others seemed neutral enough. That is, excluding the bloodthirsty grins and drawn weapons. All the while sprinting across the forest in a clear attempt to be the first ones upon Wail’s forces. Yep. Quite the friendly bunch.
Fire spread quickly, once the fireball hit a tree and with a maintained grin – the pyromaniac snapped his fingers, making sure to give a few spare moments for the fire to prosper. Tongues of devouring flame exploded in a shower of burning wood and smoldering splinters – taking with it a large portion of the tree’s base. A predictable conclusion took place moments later.
-100 mana.
“Timber!” – Wail shouted, almost choking on the held back laughter. Not the good kind either – but a foul-spirited cackle that threatened to not only choke the man, but also draw in many of the pursuers. Nobody liked his laugh.
