A new villain steps out to find themselves in a world on the brink of disaster.
* * * * *
End of the World
The day I signed away my soul to become a bad guy changed my entire world. Hell, that week changed the world for everyone!
For the record, the only reason I'm writing this is that my therapist thinks it'll help me cope with everything that's happened. What does she know, though? She has a vested interest in making sure I survive. Of course, I'll have to do it while I'm running around and trying to
not
be the bad guy.
Maybe, if I pretend I'm telling you a story, it won't be so hard. Since I'm supposed to be honest here, expect to get uncomfortably close and personal with my psyche. Ha! Take that Mrs. IknowWhat'sBestForYouAndThisIsIt!
I guess with any epic bull-shit story, this one started in a tavern.
* * * * *
Yeah, you read that intro right. This all started in a freak-loving tavern. Who knew these things were still around in modern-day California? Since discovering that other magical world, fantasy themes have become the "in" thing to do. It sure as hell wasn't my scene, but I couldn't deny the eye candy in there that night.
Gas lanterns offered flickering light along the walls as country music played on the speakers. I guess they didn't want to shell out for a live folk band or anything. The pool tables in the back seemed out of place below mock-medieval shields and tapestries. A dance floor took up most of the floor space, with two bars serving up drinks to a combination of college students, LARPers, and old people. Each bar even had a large hologram screen over it playing the news, with a wizard figurine posed as though the toy were casting an illusion. All told, it was a weird hodgepodge of fantasy themes in a modern dance club.
"So, what'd'ya think it'll be tonight," Adam asked before taking a sip of his beer and looking around. He regarded me with his hazel eyes, hopeful. We were far enough from the dance floor that we could hear each other without having to shout.
I sighed, understanding what he asked. Too many people believed in the blurse that I supposedly had. Despite the early hour, the tavern was packed, even for a ladies' night. "How should I know?" I said as every eye at the table turned to me. "I'm surprised there are so many people here after the bombs in Wyoming this morning."
"They're probably here to forget," Joey piped in, his brown eyes flicked to the hologram screens showing the aftermath of the terrorist attack that morning. "The news can't make up their minds if the Lydenese are responsible or the Paladonic Knights. Fuck 'em both, right up their tight little assholes. I just want to have fun!"
"You already had your fun with the blurse!" Adam cut in. "It's my birthday. I want to take advantage of it."
I shook my head. I didn't believe in that nonsense, no matter what the others claimed. Or the evidence to support it. People made their own luck. But that didn't stop my friends—and others who'd heard of the blurse—from dragging me out to a new club or bar every ladies' night. They paid for my drinks, so they didn't have to drag me too hard. I let them know I didn't believe in the nonsense, but I still played it up. "It's your twenty-first birthday, Adam. Why don't you look around, and let's see what happens." The supposed blurse didn't work that way, but since I didn't believe in it, I didn't care.
"Damn right, it is!" he whooped and looked around with eager hope. "Let's see... I don't want too crazy, so those LARPers are out. Experience is nice, but I want someone closer to my own age..."
I ignored him as he started to ramble. This was the first time Adam joined us, and I was just happy to be out and about. I mean, who could pass up free drinks? Other than my roommate, who did it for religious reasons. Ugh. All I had to do was play along with some silly superstition. Magic might be real, but who really believed in a combined blessing and curse? Especially one that took the Good Luck Chuck curse and twisted it? Unoriginal, if you ask me.
"Careful, Bobby," Tina spoke next to me. "It looks like he's putting together a whole shopping list." Her almond eyes regarded the birthday boy with disgust.
Too bad she's a lesbian,
I thought. She had a petite gymnast's body, and her Asian heritage made her look exotic. She got along with us heterosexuals fine, as long as no one tried to convert her. And, of course, everyone here except for Joey liked seeing her dance with other women. She'd enjoyed my supposed blurse a few weeks back, and like the others, wanted another crack at it.
So far, it hadn't struck twice, but everyone hoped. Of those at the tavern at this table, only Adam and I hadn't experienced the stupid superstition.
The others at the table started pointing out women to Adam, who seemed to be incredibly picky. I sipped on my whiskey sour, looking around myself.
Most of those who weren't LARPing wore some type of cowboy gear or western outfits. It clashed with the theme of the tavern but matched with the music playing. Some women looked really great in their tight jeans and brush-poppers, but I wasn't interested in chasing any of them myself.
Not after my last relationship ended. Megan was a great girlfriend, until she wasn't. I think that's a big reason why I wasn't interested in any of the LARPers. Knowing that she'd taken off after that magical freak still hurts.
"Do you think any of those LARPers are actually magical?" Joey asked as though reading some of my thoughts. "I mean, look at that guy dressed as a satyr. It's really well done. Oh, the things I'd like to do to him."
"Then go dance with him," I told my friend. It didn't bother me that he was gay, but I didn't want to hear any of it. Call me a hypocrite if you like, but I'd much rather hear of Tina's exploits than Joey's. I'm open-minded, but I'm
very
straight.
"Naw, I'll wait to see what your blurse brings in," Joey chuckled but kept his eyes on the satyr.
"Holy shit! Would you look at the stacks on that one?" Adam all but shouted. "She stands out like a porcupine in a nudist colony. Bobby, go talk to her!" He slapped twenty dollars down on the table, his eyes hopeful as he ran his hands through his short-cropped blonde hair.
I had no problem identifying who he meant. I didn't know if she was supposed to be part of the LARPers or mixed up her music-themed night, but her heavy eyeshadow, too dark lipstick, pale white skin, and black leather outfit didn't match anything in this tavern.
Sighing again, I grabbed the bill from the table and walked to the bar. How was I supposed to hit on this chick? With her over-done makeup, she looked dangerous. The right side of her scalp was shaved almost to skin, the rest of her red and black hair swooped over into a ponytail on the other side. A black leather get-up to include black six-inch stiletto thigh-high boots gave her an air of, "Don't fuck with me." Her outfit had an opening in front, showing ample cleavage that I admit I was a bit intimidated to admire. She also appeared to be in her mid-thirties, making her older than anyone else at my table.
She beat me to the bar, and I stepped up next to her. She was barely taller than me with her boots and looked down at me as I tried to think of what to say. I hadn't met her eyes yet, as the bartender took my order.
I was still trying to come up with an opening line when a glass was set in front of us. I laid Adam's money on the counter, grabbed the glass, and took the shot. I had nothing in common with goth chicks, much less women that landed squarely in the MILF category. As the liquor burned its way down my throat, I turned to her, ready to invite her to our table.
Instead, I froze as I met her light eyes and one delicately trimmed, thin, raised eyebrow. She looked pissed. Considering how pale her skin was and how dark her lipstick and eyeshadow, she reminded me of a vengeful spirit. Maybe she was here with the LARPers after all.
"Do you often steal another person's shot?" she demanded, her dark-painted lips dropping in a scowl. "Or is it just because I'm a woman?"
"I... Wait, what?" I asked, trying to get my brain to shift gears. My tongue ran around my mouth, and I realized that I tasted tequila and not the whiskey I ordered. I looked over to the bartender, who was also glaring at me. "Order another one of those for her, and take it out of my money," I told the man.
I turned back to the goth, my mind racing for how to recover. The news playing overhead gave me an idea. "Sorry about that. With the news of what happened this morning, I guess my head isn't in the right place."
"And that excuses you from stealing my drink?" she demanded, hands now on her hip.
"I'm paying for that one," I told her, feeling my spine stiffen. Sure, I'd made a mistake, but couldn't she see I was trying to make amends? "And if you want, I'll pay for the next one also."
"Oh, right, because I need a man to buy my drinks," she snapped at me. "You must be a really
nice
boy."
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing, finding the whole thing absurd. "I'm paying twice as much as you would since it's ladies' night. If you don't want the drink, fine. I'll just take mine and go back to my friends."
The bartender put two drinks on the counter and my change. This time I paid attention and grabbed mine before turning and walking away. Adam would need to find someone else. Usually, the woman fell into my lap, so-to-speak, and this lady wasn't doing that. My friend would have to wait and see what happened. There was no guarantee that whoever showed up would end up going home with him, anyway.
"Dude, what did you say?" a new guy asked. I didn't recognize him and guessed that he was a hanger-on, just following the rumor of my blurse. He must have shown up after I went to the bar. "She looks pissed. Is that how this thing of yours works?"
I ignored the guy. I only played along with this whole thing to get free drinks. What did I care if I upset some old lady going through a midlife crisis? Adam would have to find his big-tittied goth MILF somewhere else.
"Sorry, Adam," I said to the birthday man as his eyes got wide. "That one was a bust."
Perhaps I should have realized why he looked at me like that, but I thought he was disappointed.
"What about my bust?" the woman asked right behind me. Since we were far enough from the dance floor, she'd heard me perfectly.
I grimaced before schooling my features and turning around. My eyes lifted to hers, and this close, I could tell that her eyes were a nice blue-green. She was maybe an inch taller than me with her heels, and she tried to use that to her advantage. Strong women didn't usually intimidate me, though, so I offered her a smile and ignored her question. Women who wore shoes that could double as weapons and looked like they'd spent time behind bars might or might not intimidate me, however.
