Chapter 10 - Jackson

Hundreds of players began to pile into the arena. We were jostled and pressed against each other. A din of confusion hung in the air. I hooked Jane by the arm and began walking her over to a familiar face I had made out in the crowd.

I huffed out a breath and shook my head. Gerald hadn’t changed his name or appearance one bit. He had the same build, the same shaved head, square jaw, and cauliflower ears. He seemed unsurprised to see us as we made our way through the crowd toward him. A hard stare was the only greeting he gave. It was then that I noticed the two people standing next to him. A boy and girl who looked exactly like me and Jane in the real world, only the names above their heads read “Blondie”, and “Kruhl”. I shot a questioning glance at Gerald. He shook his head and shrugged indifferently. I turned back to my sister who was beaming. It must be an inside joke. With her, sometimes shes the only one inside. She ran over to Blondie and quickly did a walk around her.

“Wow! I think you make the tunic and trousers look better than I could have ever managed. I don’t think I’d have ever been daring enough to do the Stiletto in the hair, but you really pull it off. You look amazing!” Jane gushed.

Blondie blushed and actually toed the ground with her sturdy shoes. “Thanks. The boys got onto me for taking too long on the character creation.” She shrugged. I’ll never understand women. Here was what I assumed was a trained killer. She was young, there was no doubt about it, but every line and curve of her conveyed a level of skill and command I had only ever seen in Gerald. Yet there she was, in full princess mode.

“Oh my god!” I said in a lilting falsetto. “Kruhl, how do you manage to pour those creamy masculine hamstrings into those tight leggings? Like, I’m totally jelly over here. Maybe we should all gather up and go to the bathroom together and talk about it some more!”

I got a dirty look from the girls and a rude gesture from Kruhl. “I’m actually feeling a lot lighter and freer. I’m not used to carrying around such light equipment, if you catch my drift.” He glanced meaningfully down his front.

I opened my mouth to retort when a big hand clamped down on my shoulder. Gerald turned me to my left and pointed at a petite brunette in the crowd about forty feet away. A thick shouldered, clean cut movie start type was intently leaning into her space. He’d close the distance as she moved away and was gradually backing her against the arena wall a few feet away. She was wringing her hands together and looking around wildly. My eyes tracked to just over the girl’s head to read the name there: Calen. My eyes snapped to Gerald. He gave me a small nod and an unneeded shove in that direction.

I moved as quickly and as casually as I could through the crowd. I must not have done a great job because of the way I bumped and jostled my way through the throng. A surprising echo of pain wound up my arm and shoulder when I used it to move one particularly stubborn obstacle to the side. Strange. I looked down, clenching and unclenching my hand. I looked back up as I drew near to the two.

“There you are Calen! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” I slid past Matt Damon there and casually draped an arm around Calen’s shoulders. “Who’s your friend here? He looks familiar.” I paused thoughtfully and then snapped my finger, pointing at him. “Ocean’s Eleven, right? Man, you were great in that one.”

Calen looked at me with a questioning frown. “Ja--?”

“Jason Bourne! That’s exactly what I was thinking of. Thanks Calen! Gerald and everyone are waiting over there if you want to meet up with us. I get the feeling things are about to get pretty interesting. Mr. Hunting, sir. We’re really sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of fan mail to open and autographs to write.” I waved at the crowd and gave Mark Watney a wink. “They’re all here to see you, you know.”

We turned and started walking away when a hand gripped my arm, sending another ghosting lance of pain through me.

Icy fissures began to crack along my stomach’s frozen surface. I hate this part. Why couldn’t I keep my big mouth shut?

“The lady and I were just having a conversation. I think it’s very rude of you to interrupt us. Why don’t you scamper back off to whatever hovel spawned you and let us finish?”

I pushed Calen on back to the others as I turned back to pretty boy. “Man. They’re right. You are good. Was that from the Departed? No, wait—Interstellar. You were such a prick in that one! I can see you never really left that role behind. You really have to move on.” I rested my hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes consolingly. “It’s time.”

The blow came as in just as I expected. I pulled hard with the hand on his shoulder, bringing him off balance, my left arm coming up to casually deflect the blow that was coming in on a new and unplanned trajectory. My head snapped forward in a crushing blow to the bridge of his nose.

At least, that’s what I had planned anyway. As I raised my left arm I felt an explosive shock of electric pain. My block moved much slower than I had intended. I contacted his swing a split second after his punch caught me along the ear. Ice met fire in a twisting tangle of torment as heat bloomed across my face and a cold chill raced down my left side.

A system message appeared in front of me.

You have been attacked by a player! Victor Fury hits you for 6 damage.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Victor Fury? Are you freaking kidding me? Why didn’t you just name yourself Batman and be done with it? C’mon, I know you were disappointed when Affleck got the part and you didn’t.” I’d kept close to him protecting my left side while tripping up his feet as he tried to move back to get room to swing again.

“You’ve got a lot of jokes, Texas Ranger.”

“Wait.” I paused a beat. “You think comparing me to Chuck Norris is an insult? If Chuck Norris was in the 300 movie, it would have been called, One. I heard that when he turned 18, his parents moved out.” Victor used the moment to gain some separation and came at me again. I continued on. “Chuck Norris doesn’t breathe air, he holds it hostage. He doesn’t sleep. He waits.” Victor opened his mouth to reply when I darted in, snapping a quick punch at his face. As he raised his arms to block, I lined up like a field goal kicker and caught him with a vicious kick between the legs, raising him off of the ground. He fell choking and sputtering to the ground. Full immersion, I thought. I leaned down toward him and whispered. “Chuck Norris sleeps with a pillow under his gun.”

That was when he stabbed me.