Time stopped with that distinct thrum. This was different than most times. Celeste moved slightly with me. She tensed momentarily before sagging slightly. I could feel the exhausted frustration for what was about to happen radiate off of her. That wasn’t the unusual part. Now I hadn’t wandered too far afield in a time stop before. I wasn’t going to this time either. The reason for that was because the snow lion was still latched onto my face. The hateful creature was frozen mid air with its fangs clamping down hard. One of the longer ones was hooked under my right eye. This meant I was staring down its throat with one eye and gazing randomly at the sky with the other.

This specific snow lion was rare scale or lower so I was ignoring the damage. Trouble is I was pretty sure if I tried to move now I could pop my eye out. Like I said I stayed really still.

Arbitration Begins in…

5…

4…

3…

2…

We were in the conference room. Suddenly the substantial weight of a large cat hit. The thing bit down harder and gravity caused it to lever even more against my eye. Rather than develop a new phobia, I let my reflexes kick in. Using both hands I seized the top and bottom of the cat's jaws. I then pulled them apart until my face was free. After that I kept going until something in the monster tore and then finally cracked. This caused the thing to claw at me. I wasn’t about that life either so I swung the beast over my shoulder and slammed it down on the conference table with all the force I could muster. The table collapsed and the snow lion… splattered. Think a grocery bag full of chili being tossed off a roof hitting the driveway.

The violence of that should have been upsetting, but only a snow lion was hurt so meh.

The mess twitched so I crushed it more with a chair. This was just practically, and not in any way an act of rage. Also that was the worst chair in this room so I was doing people a favor.

“I think you got it,” Celeste said. She patted my shoulder gently.

“Are you sure?” Denise asked behind me.

I looked at the now completely liquid snow lion. “...yeah.”

“I am going to have to put a ticket in with logistics. “ Denise said mostly to herself. She was walking around the ever expanding pool of blood.

“So you don’t want to just pull every mob up here to chat?” I asked. Watching her.

“Mob collection with regard to arbitration is supposed to be a very precise and case by case basis. Denise stepped back from the blood and realized she was backing into a corner. She paused briefly and then stepped closer to me. “Controlling low scale mobs is mostly a matter of macro management, but up here micro management becomes necessary. High scale mobs are more complicated to deal with. Boss behavior needs to be more complex and basically requires a full intelligence. The power requirements for direct control are absurd so we talk with them and coordinate. It is like dealing with method actors.”

She seemed to be telling the truth. There were a lot of questions I could have asked, but I decided to focus on the immediate one, “So why was this one here?”

Denise shrugged, “I don’t want to speculate too much. Either someone on the collection crew messed up, or…”

“They did what they were told,” I said.

“That is the simplest answer,” Celeste agreed. She was watching Denise. She wasn’t being threatening, but she was clearly sizing the new narrator up.

Denise stepped away from me into the blood, “I didn’t do it!”

“I am pretty sure I know who did,” I said. I wasn’t trying to comfort Denise, but I didn’t really see any value in upsetting her either.

“Would you like to make an accusation?” Grace asked.

I paused. I had expected Wilson or Lindsey to appear next. Being stuck in a room with Grace was… it is hard to put into words. Every time I ended up in this room was just awful. The blue bastards could alter the world around me, and often did. Every interaction with them was life and death, and the lack of recourse was infuriating. Maybe I could take a swing now, but the same thing that let me sense the relative power of others, probably the Analyze Skill, told me that Grace was slightly stronger than Wilson. That meant a fight would not go well for me.

Even if I could kill her though, what was to stop some other narrator in the breakroom or something from spawning a million mobs on top of my friends, or retconning events so that I murder Brand or someone else? The displeasure of the audience was the only thing narrators seemed to fear, besides other narrators. Well, that’s not quite right. Everyone seemed to be afraid of both the Titan and Nadia. The thing is I could consistently leverage none of those options.

It is a cold thing being locked in a room with someone that can do whatever they want to you without repercussion. Grace made it more acute. It was always there, but in this moment it heightened. Wilson clearly had long term plans for me and the people I cared about. She wanted me gone.

Grace walked past me. Her heels clicked as always. Again the carpet on the floor should have stopped that. The blood on the floor didn’t bother her. She paused momentarily to stoop and lift the broken table. The wood phased through the gore and stayed at the appropriate level. Then Grace walked to one of the heads of the table and sat down.

She gazed at me calmly. Her eyes were far colder than any of the nights in the Goblin Wastes, “again, Is there something you would like to say?”

I decided to bite my tongue.

Celeste had crunched the numbers and reached a different output. She pointed at the mob, “That was a petulant attempt at intimidation. So is this. “

Denise moved so I was between her and Grace.

Grace considered for a long moment. Eventually she shrugged. “I’ll adjust my assessment of your intelligence.”

“Was that a joke?” Wilson asked. He stepped into my view completely ignoring everyone other than Grace. “Did you manage that on purpose?”

Grace frowned at Wilson, “We have work to do… and it was an insult, you cretin.”

This is going to sound dumb, but having Wilson around made me feel safer. Don’t get me wrong, I knew he wasn’t going to help me. Honestly I was pretty sure he was the source of the majority of suffering. The thing is for the most part the malicious prick was just letting things happen, letting me make my own decisions.

He wasn’t going to let Grace hurt me because that would imply he couldn’t stop her. Remember even if you don’t wanna fuck with politics, politics will fuck with you.

Grace shot me a look. I shrugged and asked, “What is our GRP at Wilson?”

“Over 68K… nice,” Wilson said, his predatory grin sliding in place.

“Shouldn’t you say that at 69?” Celeste asked.

“Nah… I prefer 68. You go down on me and I’ll own you one.” Wilson sat at the other head of the table. He patted a chair near him, “Sit down everyone. No sense standing around like jack asses waiting for Feckless and Fire-crotch.”

To hell with it. I sat next to Wilson. Celeste sat next to me. Denise tiptoed through the blood and wincing sat on Wilson’s other side.

Wilson just leered at Grace sitting across the table from him alone. Grace looked completely unconcerned. After what felt like a literal minute of them staring archly at each other, Denise of all people broke the silence.

She cleared her through, “Excuse me, but are we going to discuss the issue at hand?”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

Wilson tilted his head, and gazed at Grace, “I would love to, but several team members are late.”

“Did you communicate the meeting start time effectively?” Grace asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I had Denise send out the invite,” Wilson said. He turned on Denise.

Denise swallowed, “I sent out the invite and included a five minute early notification.”

“Are you sure you need us for office politics?” Celeste asked. I keep forgetting she is good at that trick. You know where you say something that sounds polite, but has extreme rude implications.

Grace shot Celeste and me another Glance before focusing back on Wilson, “We need everyone for this discussion.”

Wilson tutted, “Sounds like they are filtering your messages. That’s not very professional.” he pulled his phone out and typed out a message. He hit send.

“I’m here!” Lindsey shouted a split second later. She fast-walked into view and sat down. Her shirt was inside out.

“Sorry I am late. I was- oof!” Brandon said. He tripped on my smashing chair, and face planted into the snow lion slurry.

Absolutely no one moved to help him.

Brandon got to his feet, “I am okay.”

“No one cares,” Wilson assured him.

“Brandon,” I spoked up.

The narrator looked at me, not quite believing I was going to contradict Wilson.

I wasn’t, “Your fly is down.” Half his shirt was untucked and the tongue of his belt was out of the loop also. Those may have been fashion choices, or Brandon could not know how to dress himself. Either way I didn’t care. This may be my circus, but he was not my monkey.

“Oh, no,” Brandon panicked and pulled the zipper up as fast as he could. That was a rookie mistake. The look on his face told everyone he hadn’t cleared the teeth. Something sensitive was caught in the zipper.

“Sit down, Brandon,” Grace instructed.

Brandon moved slowly and sat gingerly.

Wilson checked the time, “Bitter Ginger this is your bitch fit I believe or do you want to waste more time.”

Lindsey almost took the bait. I could see she wanted to say something to Wilson, but she realized that’s what Wilson wanted. So instead she pointed at me and said, “He’s metagaming!”

Everyone looked at me.

I know I pointed out the existential threat the Narrators posed, and what I did in response may seem out of character at first glance. The thing is Lindsey was trying to kill me. She nearly got Angelica with that demon horde. I simply wanted to provoke her into making a mistake, “No, Lindsey, my name is Doug. We have met many times. Doug. I’m Doug.”

Lindsey blinked like I had slapped her. She then sputtered with rage, “Are you mocking me.”

I looked her right in the eye and said, “Yes… duh!”

Everything was very quiet for a moment. Linsdey didn’t launch herself across the table. Instead she took several deep breaths before saying, “He stated information he couldn’t know from the audience's point of view. This is after a previous incident when he tried to get the Intern to help him metagame with the player Celeste of Truth. This is officially a pattern. Some sort of consequences are needed to prevent further incidents.”

“Point of order, it takes three data points to make a pattern.” Denise cut in, “Furthermore the first incident Lindsey cites, no metagaming occurred, and Doug was unaware of the rules.”

“Counterpoint,” Brandon said, raising a hand with one finger extended, “Ignorance of the rules does not mean you are exempt from them.”

“This isn’t a courtroom or a debate club. Brandon would know about ignorance. He has broken several big rules. Important ones unlike pointless guidelines like our sexual harassment policy. Isn’t that right Hoover?” Wilson said to Lindsey.

“Hoover?” Lindsey asked.

“Cause you suck,” Wilson explained, “I know explaining the joke is bad form but when you don’t understand what someone comparing you to a vacuum means we have to make due.”

“We are here to discuss Doug breaking continuity,” Grace insisted. She did not thing our banter was funny.

“Exactly,” Lindsey pounced on that. “You’re stupid club broke the rules because your pet intern didn’t explain the rules and that means you fucked up.”

Wilson’s grin shifted into that inhuman rictus. “Are you sure about that? WHO filed the request for the retcon?” Grace eyed Lindsey. Denise had the look people get when they realized they dodged a bullet. Lindsey’s face cramped. Wilson continued as he scrolled through his phone, “The last thing I see from Denise is to have Enkidu be behind the veil, have him comune with Doug while being out of Angel’s immediate reach. Then there is your note about a horde of demons and Doug being pulled into the land of the dead. I guess you missed my note from our earlier arbitration over the upgrade. Did the sad handjob discussion draw your focus? I know it did Brandon’s.”

Brandon, sighed, “Why are you picking on me?”

“Because any handjob involving you is going to be sad. Isn’t that right Lindsey?” Wilson asked.

“Quit distracting from the main topic,” Grace said her voice was still completely neutral but something dangerous was creeping into her eyes. “This is about the continuity break. Something needs to be done.”

“I have a great idea,” Wilson said. He clapped his hands and then held them wide, “We ignore it. The audience doesn’t catch everything. Honestly hyper focusing on this while probably cause that thing...” Wilson paused thinking.

“Trouble?” Brandon asked.

“The Striesand effect,” Celeste corrected.

Wilson pointed at Celeste, “That’s the one.” he looked at Brandon, “Stop guessing at things. You aren’t lucky.”

“You are just trying to cover your own ass,” Lindsey said. “You are the one that told him about Bobby and Luna?”

Wilson nodded, “True after who brought Granny Mabel and Lagrang into the conversation?” he gazed at Lindsey for a long moment. He then turned his eyes on Brandon, “And who brought Balance in All Things?”

When Lindsey spoke she was trying to sound reasonable and collaborative, “We need to focus on solutions. The easiest path forward would be to retcon things so that Doug selected the Oracle perk.”

“If you do that, I will state directly to the audience that you changed things,” I rested my hands on the table top floating in the air. I then clenched them into fists. “I will also find a way to sabotage every story I can. Something that will be easier with the Oracle perk.” The last bit may have been too much. The Narrators clearly wanted me to take that perk. Which made me determined to keep them out of my head.

“We need to alter one of his interactions with Angelica De Leon so she told him about-” Brandon started.

“If you try and change any part of my past I will out the retcon,” I insisted. “This last retcon is how you got into this mess.”

“It is also likely that Enkidu was given some sort of off screen knowledge for this…incident to occur,” Denise piped up.

“Provide proof or shut up about that,” Lindsey snapped.

“Now now, Freckles,” Wilson stepped into the conversation, “Denise brings up a valid point. Things aren’t being given the thought they require. Since your last retcon caused a continuity break, I am going to insist from now on that all stories connected to Doug’s are no longer to be retconned in any way. Also any manipulation including smoothing of dice rolls will need to be approved by me.”

“How the hell am I supposed to manage that?” Brandon demanded.

“You got three options: Be good, get good, or give up,” Wilson told him.

Lindsey was staring at Wilson, “you… set me up. You played me like a fiddle.”

Wilson shook his head, “Fiddles require skill and precision. I played you like a cheap kazoo.”

“I’ll get you back,” Lindsey snarled.

Wilson leaned back in his chair, “I mean turnabout is fair play, feel free to blow me.”

“Doug, I need you to confirm, you will participate with upcoming events in good faith with no metagaming, nor deliberate continuity breaks, so long as no further rectons occur?” Grace asked. She stared at me passively, almost disinterested.

I paused. Part of me considered arguing further, but to what end? That may be the best offer I could get. I looked to Celeste. She shrugged.

I sighed before saying, “Yeah, but if you break those terms I may retaliate.”

“Excellent,” Grace said. “Events will continue with no further alteration.” She locked eyes with Wilson. “Everything will occur according to the groundwork we have already established.

Wilson froze. His grin was inhuman as he glared at Grace. When he spoke his voice was the same unnerving monotone, “I have waited for this opportunity since this show started.”

Goddammit. I forgot. No Narrator is on my side. Grace's earlier declaration flashed through my mind, ‘Doug will win.’ Everyone that went with me to that tower was in danger.

“We still need to have resolution for the continuity break,” Grace said, unconcerned, “Pulling focus back.”

“That’s easy,” Wilson said the greasy personality sliding back into his voice and movements, “We just need to have something else happen that is entertaining to the audience.”

“We can’t have another fight,” Denise said. “This close to the last one. It will be spectacle creep. The audience likely wouldn’t engage.”

“That’s true,” Brandon agreed, “Maybe a new quest.”

“Brandon, stop trying to think. You haven’t trained for it and you’re just going to hurt yourself.” Wilson said the answer is obvious.”

I was pretty sure I knew where this was going, “are you seriously back to this again?”

“Doug, you need to take one for the team and eat angel cake,” Wilson said, his grin becoming of the shit eating variety.

I sighed, “Wilson you have to stop forcing this. I am not going to creep on Celeste and Angelica because you say so. If they aren’t into it, I am not going to force the issue.”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Celeste said.

“Wait, what?” I said, turning to look at her.

“Cool! Back you go.” Wilson said.

And Celeste and I were back in the cold holding each over. It felt a little different.

The snow lion was back. When time started, I did several extremely violent things to it.

I really hate snow lions.

… I also may need to deal with my hangups in the immediate future.