Handsome Alex was all business even though his skull and spinal column were the last remnants of the man he used to be. I had his bones laid out on the floor of my train car as the starry sky whooshed past outside my window. With no ribs or arms or anything, he looked like a demonic sperm.
“You look like a Halloween decoration.” I lied and leaned closer. “Why do you smell like coffee? Anyway, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Have you seen some of the rich weirdos on this train? No one will say shit once we get you some arms and legs. I bet half the drummers here were never even human to begin with. You’re practically boring.”
Handsome Alex ignored me. “The guitarist approaches,” he warned, and with a puff of dust his jawbone cracked clean off. Without muscles and tendons to work it, his jaw had always just hung open, anyway, and he could still talk just fine without it. His eyes lit up with an eerie amber light marking each syllable. “Hide me now, before she arrives. Hurry, you fool.”
I didn’t say anything but it was weird that his jaw had just fallen off like that. Wasn’t he supposed to be indestructible? I shoved the stray bone into my pocket.
Then I slid Handsome Alex and his rickety tail of yellowed vertebrae under the bench seat opposite where I was sitting. My hard-sided suitcase fit snug against the gap between the floor and seat and I put my feet up, wedging it even more firmly in place. I pinned my chin to my chest and pulled my derby down over my eyes like I was asleep.
A moment later, the door slid open and a slender, dark-haired woman with a guitar case strapped to her back swept inside. I didn’t flinch at the sudden blast of music and voices from all the partygoers out in the corridor. I performed a gentle, wavering moan of a snore, instead.
I could see her reflection in the metal frame of the bench across the way. She was wearing a black, fitted leather jacket with lots of superfluous zippers and short sleeves that ended mid-bicep in lacy ruffles. I suddenly felt very underdressed in my Old Loser costume. Her jeans were also black but sort of faded with a hole in one knee. And she had on a purple shirt of some kind underneath the jacket.
She saw me sleeping there and quietly slid the door closed, more polite than the obscene tattoo on her forearm implied. It was an anthropomorphized penis cutting itself to pieces with machetes. For some reason it had eight arms. Reminded me of Alex in his final form.
In addition to the guitar case on her back, the woman was also carrying a green and purple duffel. The thing was bulging and she was straining to hold it up and started searching for someplace to set it down, but I had strategically occupied both benches in this car. I was asleep on one and had my feet and jacket on the other.
“You awake, dickhead?” she whispered, very, very low. I held in a chuckle. She reached behind her back using her free hand and slid the door open again, but only for a moment before slamming it shut with a schwack!
“Annie are you okay!” I cried as I pretended to be wrenched out of a dream. My hat fell on the floor. I looked around wildly for a moment, selling the idea that I didn’t know where I was. I felt all over my bald head like the hat might be hiding somewhere up there.
“Oh, hey,” the woman said, a guilty note in her voice. I couldn’t tell if it was real or not. “My bad. Were you sleeping?”
I bent down to pick up my hat and stuck it back on my head.
“No worries, man I was out.” After wiping my eyes and yawning behind my hand, I reached across the car and dragged my coat off the far bench. I placed it on the opposite bench beside myself and gestured for her to sit where the jacket had been. “There, sorry about that. I’ve been traveling a lot. This is Hawijimi still, right?”
She grunted. “Yeah. It’s still Hawijimi out there.” She sat down, eyeing me with distrust. This was going perfect. “You mind if I smoke?”
“Nope, make yourself at home.”
She took off the guitar case and laid it on the bench next to her. That was a stroke of luck. She might have noticed Handsome Alex if she’d stowed her instrument under the seat. She dug around in her duffel for a moment before pulling out a silver cigarette case and a lighter. The case opened to reveal a number of hand-rolled cigarettes. They might have been magic cigarettes. I was hoping.
She flicked her lighter and watched me while she drew on the cigarette, which with her first exhale I confirmed was, in fact, magically-enhanced as I suspected. The way she puffed, it didn’t last long, and she didn’t offer me any. That was fine.
“So, you play?” I jutted my chin at her guitar case. “You must be signed up for that whole battle of the bands thing, right?” I snorted, sort of amused and dismissive at the same time.
“The Cacophony, you mean.” There was no warmth or humor in her voice as she corrected me. Only irritation. “And yes, I play. Swell observation there, Sherlock.” She knocked on her guitar case.
I smiled. “That’s right, the Cacophony. What a name. So where’s the rest of your band? Isn’t the first stop tomorrow night? Shouldn’t you be busy rehearsing or something?”
“They’ll be boarding in the morning.” She looked at me warily. “What are you doing on this train? You don’t look like a—”
“Like a contestant? Or a rich weirdo? Yeah, you’re right. I’m neither.” I held out my card and she just looked at me without taking it. Shrugging, I stuffed it back in my pocket. “I manage a band. Sorry, a Sonic Combat Unit. We used to just call them rock bands when I first got into this business. Anyway, name’s Kirby. Kirby Dufresne.”
“Mina Diamond,” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Pardon? Not sure I follow your meaning. Are you a well-known act around these parts? I’ll be honest with you, I’m from Tulsa. That’s in Oklahoma. This is actually my first action outside North America and Europe. First time on a train, too.” I winked like a dork. “Don’t tell the conductor.”
She was staring so hard then, I thought she might drill a hole between my eyes. It was too good, we’d really gotten off on the wrong foot and she was full of distrust.
While she focused on me, Handsome Alex took advantage of the distraction to do his thing. I tracked his progress using our party interface:
>Handsome Alex is preparing a [Compelling Narrative]
>Stage 1 of 7 is 12% complete….
This was some seriously haunted shit. Handsome Alex came back from the first plane crash with a whole suite of mind-bending superpowers. Among them were a slew of like, video-game-styled windows, for lack of a better concept to compare it to. These windows could show me all kinds of freaky stuff about the world. Tooltips I had no business reading; stuff I would have told you was batshit just a few years ago. We used one of these windows to communicate with one another telepathically, I’m dead serious:
Handsome Alex: You are performing well today, Kirby. Keep her attention and I will have the story finished shortly.
Handsome Kirby: No problem, Bud. Just let me know when she’s ready.
Handsome Alex: We will talk about the inappropriate modification to your chat tag later.
Handsome Kirby: You don’t like?
Handsome Alex: You are not handsome. The tag is a lie.
Hurt Kirby: /sadface
Handsome Alex: You are also without a single shred of professionalism. Do let me work in peace now.
Mina Diamond must have noticed I was sort of spacing off, because she reached right into my face and snapped her fingers.
“You still there, uh, dude? Furby. Derfy. Whatever you said your name was.” She snapped her fingers rapidly.
Narrow, exceptionally long, and nimble fingers. She certainly had the physical attributes to shred. Or I assumed she did. Soon I’d know for sure.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
I blinked and pretended to bite at her hand. My teeth clicked in the air.
“Rawr,” I growled. I didn’t say another word and sat back, arms crossed and grinning. My eyebrows waggled lasciviously. This was too far, and I knew it right then. I’d gone from foil to clown when I bit at her finger.
She surprised me by cocking her head to the side and smiling. Smiling with her whole face and a warmth I didn’t expect. I caught myself mirroring her – or was it the other way around?
“I don’t know what your grift is,” she said, her smile still forcing mine. “But I can’t wait for you to try it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’m gonna enjoy myself. Take my time.” She sat back, arms crossed. The smile and its warmth were gone but now her eyebrows danced, clearly mocking my own. “I’m gonna make you beg to die. You fucking amateurs.”
>Handsome Alex has completed 3 of 7 stages.
> Stage 4 is 61% complete….
It was taking too long but I didn’t dare interrupt Alex, not now that the Compelling Narrative prep was over halfway finished. He’d go apeshit if he had to start over at this point.
My role in this part operation was just to distract our mark for two or three minutes so he could work. My best asset was being unlikable. Our targets would be so sick of me, they’d never notice Handsome Alex digging inside their brains with his freaky psychic powers. Not until it was too late.
But I had serious concerns that Mina Diamond here was going to kill me before we ever got there. I couldn’t allow that to happen. There simply weren’t enough hours left before showtime for me to find another body and complete the necessary rituals to puppet it around.
“Can we back up?” I said, uncrossing my arms and showing her my hands out at my sides. “We got off on the wrong foot, right? There’s no reason we should be at each other’s throats.”
“You represent the enemy. We might be destined to meet in the arena.”
“Holy shit, lady. Holy shit. That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think? You act like this is a literal battle of the bands.”
“Isn’t it?”
I realized she still had the cigarette case open on her lap. She’d smoked her joint and squashed the roach on the floor but never for a second had she shut the damn case.
Hurt Kirby: Hold on, buddy. I think we’re walking into a trap.
Handsome Alex: Do not bother me with this. Her story is nearly complete. Whatever is happening, you must deal with it yourself.
Hurt Kirby: Brother I wouldn’t bug you if I didn’t think I had to. You gotta pause the narrative or something.
Handsome Alex: I will not and you know this. It burns if I try to stop it before it finishes. I am muting this chat. Do not open another or I will be forced to block you again, despite the complications this will present in coming days.
Mina smiled at me like she had hacked our entire conversation. I’d have to ask Handsome Alex later if that was even possible.
I tried to study the cigarette case more closely without her noticing, despite the fact our eyes were locked on one another. It was no use. She was watching me too close and if my eyes strayed down she’d definitely notice. My only play was to wait for her to make the first move. I hated that, but at least I could be ready the moment the Compelling Narrative hit Stage 7.
>Handsome Alex has completed 5 of 7 stages.
> Stage 6 is 91% complete….
I flinched. Only nine percent to go?
The finish line had snuck up on me. Mina noticed something was suddenly extra off and her eyes narrowed. The cigarette case was still splayed on her lap, but her right hand flicked to her pocket so fast it barely registered that she’d pulled a little ivory-handled purse-pistol, probably a .22 with only two bullets, if my past experience with the ladies was any guide.
>Handsome Alex has completed 6 of 7 stages.
>Stage 7 will now commence….
The lights in the rectangular train car cut out and the voices of two-hundred and thirty-seven ghosts began to wail like they were going down in a fiery plane crash. I don’t know why I always started laughing here. My usual nervous tic was cracking my knuckles until they wouldn’t pop any more, not giggling like a dipshit.
Handsome Alex floated straight up through the bench beside Mina. He had taken his sepia-toned, ghost-flame haloed, non-corporeal form, which meant this thing was basically a done deal.
Compelling Narrative was just one of the superpowers he’d gained in the afterlife, but we used it all the time. We’re basically talking mind control here. I forgot the exact stages but it was along the lines of:
Stage 1: Break into their brains
Stage 2: Steal a bunch of their memories and hopes and dreams
Stage 3: Replace that junk with false versions that support the Narrative we’re after
Stage 4: ?????
Stage 5: Profit baby
One thing for sure, if it got as far as Stage 7 then they were cooked. Handsome Alex hovered beside Mina like a biker tattoo come-to-life.
She turned and took one look at Handsome Alex and gasped, squeezing the trigger on her little pistol out of reflex. Shot me right in the goddamn stomach.
>Your vessel has suffered an [Injury].
>Your vessel has been afflicted with [Gut-Shot].
>[Gut-Shot] initially inflicts damage equal to 15% of the target’s Base Health.
>[Gut-Shot] causes your vessel to [Bleed-Out]. This is a damage-over-time effect which will accelerate the longer it persists. This status will not heal without intervention.
>Current Health: 184%
“Granddaughter!” Handsome Alex scolded. It took me a second to place his accent because I’d never heard him do Japanese before.
The lights all came back on brutal as closing time at the bar. The two-hundred and thirty-seven ghosts shut right the fuck up. Mina dropped the gun and it went pop! Her last bullet left a pea-sized hole in the window set into the upper-half of the door.
The corridor out there was a champagne-drenched sausage-casing crammed with rich weirdos who were stoned on everything money could buy and then some. Every now and then they’d manage to organize a conga line. If she’d just killed someone, it might be a problem. Or it might solve one. Time would tell.
“Granddaughter,” Handsome Alex repeated, calmer than you’d ever believe. Like he was sitting cross-legged in his bonsai garden right at that moment not snatching this woman’s body so I could turn her into magic rocks. “Please be still and listen, little one. I have so much to tell you.”
“Hell yeah, story time.” I grunted and untucked my shirt in order to probe the bullet wound with my finger. I gave Mina the play-by-play as I did. “Unreal. You got me right above my belt-buckle, lady. Look at that. I bet it would have stopped the bullet. Yeah, I’m sure it would have. Goddamnit. And they call football a game of inches. Got nothing on death metal, am I right?”
“Kirby.” For just a moment there Handsome Alex sounded like Handsome Alex again. But that old bag of bones minus the bag was a real pro’s pro. There was no hint of irritation in his voice when he continued. “It would be most pleasing if you made yourself absent so that Mina and I might speak in private. It has been so, so long since I've seen my granddaughter. I’m sure you understand.”
“Sure. Yeah, you’re right. I’ll scram.”
As far as Handsome Alex was concerned, I was already gone. “I hope you have been well, little one.”
“Is it really you?” Mina reached out to touch Handsome Alex’s nasty skeleton face with its jaw missing and her hand became covered in sparkling pinpricks of light as it passed through. This always felt dirty, even to me, watching people hallucinate their dead relatives. I liked it better when they had a celebrity crush we could exploit or the like.
But she was mesmerized by the whole thing with her grandpa, couldn’t pry her eyes away, don’t think she even noticed when I reached across and snatched her still-open cigarette case as I rose to my feet.
I found a complicated rune etched into the silver interior, underneath half-a-dozen tightly-rolled magic cigarettes which I had to dump into my breast pocket for science and safekeeping. The rune depicted a series of geometric pentagrams, twisted together and stacked impossibly like something MC Escher would’ve come up with on acid.
“Told you it was a trap.” I flipped the case open and held it aloft, like I was a fed flashing his badge. The bite of the bullet in my gut doubled me over, but only for a second. “I better see if there’s a doctor in the bar.”
“Kirby,” Handsome Alex interjected as I shoved the case into my pocket and slid the door open.
I paused at the threshold with my hand against my belly. Nobody was lying there dead in the aisle, which always had a calming influence on me. “Yeah, bud? You want me to get you something? Hankering for some of that peach wine again? You know I can dig it. I’ve got you.”
“Kirby, stay out of the blasted bar. For the love of—”
“Alright, alright.” I chuckled and then winced. I coughed up a shot-glass worth of blood onto the floor and that momentarily got Mina’s attention back on me. Her eyes looked heavy, like a hypnotist’s victim. But this was going to be so much worse than tricking her into acting like a chicken. I tried to sound like a human being:
“You gotta let him talk for as long as it takes, Mina. Believe me on this, babe. He’s older than shit so at least half of what he says isn’t going to make any sense, but Grandpa Spoopy Bones there tells the best stories. Gonna change the way you see the world.”
Handsome Alex unmuted his chat to tell me to go away but as soon as the window popped up I muted his ass right back. I stepped out into a conga line and someone slipped a champagne flute into my hand.