World Boss: Break the Narrative

Just Like that I was in the conference room. No wait, we were in the conference room. Angelica was still holding my hand. I had a complex feeling about that. I wanted Angelica and Celeste here… or at least I dreaded being alone with narrators. That said them being here meant they were in someone's sights. Paltry protection it may be, but not being visible lessened the likelihood of someone casually lashing out at them. Accessibility is a massive factor of abuse. That one extra step has probably saved untold lives.

Whatever happened next, I guess we were in this together.

“Where is everyone?” Angelica asked. She didn’t let go of my hand.

“They are probably waiting for an obnoxious moment to materialize behind us,” I answered.

Nope. No spontaneous asshole manifestation. Should I be disappointed?

An idea occurred to me, “Should we wreck the place?”

“Please don’t” Denise begged. She had appeared behind me and stepped into view.

“Why? Is someone going to teleport me into the sun if I toss the place?” I asked.

“No. They will make me clean it up,” Denise sighed. She looked like she was coming to terms with the likely need for sweeping.

Dammit. I wasn’t sure, but I don’t believe Denise had done me any wrong. She was a narrator - intern- did that distinction matter? I studied her for a moment, trying to determine if she looked guilty. Nope, just vaguely afraid of me. The only difference from the last time I saw her was she wasn’t wearing the punishment hat anymore.

“So you can talk to me again,” I asked.

Denise nodded, “Yes.”

“Oh is that why Celeste is annoyed.” Angelica looked back and forth between me and Denise, “You don’t want an intern Doug. They aren’t helpful.”

“That’s not true,” Denise insisted quickly. She clearly did not want me thinking she was useless.

“Sure,” Angelica said, doubtfully. After a beat she continued. “Tell us what’s going on.”

“I don’t know,” Denise admitted, not quite crying.

“Our deal stands,” I told Denise.

Angelica face-palmed, “ What deal did you make?”

“We agreed to not mess with or harm each other. No system prompts involved,” I explained.

“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Angelica admitted mollified.

Another thought struck me, “Hey Denise, Does this room get booked for these meetings?”

“Yeah, “ she said.

“Does this meeting have a name?” I pressed.

Denise pulled her phone out. She read it and frowned, “It is titled: Cock Slap.”

While that was very unhelpful in general, it pointed to this being Wilson’s meeting. Grace, and Lindsey wouldn’t have picked that title. Brandon wasn’t creative enough to come up with the joke. Marge might name something like that, I didn’t have a great read on her yet, but I didn’t see any goblins in the room…

“Am I about to get hit in the dick or by one?” I asked mostly to fill time.

“Let it be a surprise, Kid,” Wilson appeared behind me. When I turned to look at him I was surprised to find him looking well rested and in a fresh clean suit. He was also carrying a tray with a bottle of champagne and four glasses.

“What the actual fuck is happening?” I demanded. I would have lumbered toward him but Angelica held me back.

She squeezed my hand hard.

Wilson set down the tray and leered. His grin was that impossible uncanny valley smile he favored when dropping his facade at being human, “You finally killed someone!” he cheered.

“I killed Grond,” I argued on reflex.

“Nah, you killed one of his several avatars, and we both know that didn’t stick,” Wilson snapped back to his jovial facsimile of personhood. “This though was you ending a full and complete being. You snuffed out a sapient life! So folks around here doubted you, but knew you had it in you, Kid.”

I sighed, “Wilson, this is lame. I get it you are malicious and love to take every chance you can to kick the dog. The thing is, Fuck Madigan. I am not going to celebrate his death, but I don’t regret killing him. I gave him every opportunity to walk away from this, and he just kept being a hateful killer. Fuck him. No one is going to miss him.”

“Except his daughter,” Wilson smiled back. He knew that hit me like a slap to the face. He then put the boots in. “She turns twelve in the spring. That’s a tough time for a kid. Dontcha think?”

I was silent for a long time.

“Stop claiming I can’t hurt you, Kid,” Wilson said, removing the foil and wire around the cork, “It is just a waste of our time.”

I let go of Angelica’s hand. When she held on, I had to pull free. I stomped toward the smaller narrator, “You know Wilson. One of these days, someone is just going to hit you?”

Wilson, still smiling, popped the cork. It bounced off my shoulder, “Go ahead. Make a move. One free shot. No blow back on you, I will just deal with it.”

I almost took the swing. That doesn’t convey how close I was. I was on my last nerve. Honestly, when it came to narrators I was looking for an excuse to hurt one. Wilson had taken every opportunity to goad me…

That is actually what gave me pause. If he was actually trying to piss me off, now was a moment for patience. “I am gonna bank that.”

Wilson gave me a genuine smile. The kind a pet owner lavished on a pet that finally figured out a trick. “Look at you, thinking one move ahead.” he poured some of the champagne into each of the glasses. “It is a day of first!” He offered me a glass.

“You expect us to be friends?” I demanded.

Wilson shrugged, “You could always try and develop a working relationship with Grace. That joyless bitch is gonna come in here and lobby for you to be killed after the tower.” he raised the glass and gulped it down.

“You really want me to pick a fight with her,” I observed.

“...No… that would be the worst.” Wilson said in a stilted almost pornstar style delivery. “Plus we are all working together in this.” He started talking normally again, “Besides, you probably couldn’t take her in a fight.”

I frowned at him.

“Go ahead and use that Analyze skill on me,” Wilson encouraged as he picked up another glass and tilted it back.

Analyze Check… Partially Successful

Name:

Wilson Jones

Race:

Neomen (humanoid)

Class:

Smiling Doom

Level:

78

HP:

3,900

Power:

Not Available

Mobility:

Not Available

Body:

Not Available

Mind:

Not Available

Face:

Not Available

Magic:

Not Available

Note: This being exists outside the Narrative and has no Scale. No Further information available.

What a shock. Something related to Wilson was unhelpful, and vaguely threatening.

There was a lot to unpack with this character sheet. Level 78 and nearly four thousand hit points drew the eye. The Class Smiling Doom certainly sounded ominous. Hell, even not actually getting any info on stats was troubling.

My focus was on the last name, Jones. Rather than engage with the fact that Wilson of all being had the same last name as the Titan, I asked, “What is a Neoman?”

“Oh that’s right you do not know,” WIlson said. He leaned in conspiratorially, “I can’t tell you. Spoilers and all.”

“Why are you level 78, and Divine Scale based off of hit points, and Denise is just level 0?” I asked.

“I work for a living,” Wilson explained, unhelpfully. “Denise was born here and is one of those kids that just doesn’t want to work. That’s why she is still level zero.”

“I am level 8 now,” Denise piped up.”

Wilson applauded condescendingly, “Congratulations while at no personal risk, you are leveling slower than Doug does. He has multiple holds on his XP, what’s your excuse.” rather than wait for an answer he turned back to me. “Speaking of which when are you two gonna hit it raw?”

I took a step back from Wilson.

“Condoms are a requirement,” Angelica said flatly, not surprised by this.

“Agreed,” I wasn’t going to challenge Angelica’s boundaries. Not just because that is a fucked up thing to do. The twin reasons of not wanting to procreate without intent and spiting Wilson also guided my words.

Wilson pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted while he spoke, “I am just saying, it would make a lot of people happy if you finally put out,” he looked up from the phone, “Is the issue Angel, here is too manish?... not manish enough? Cause Brand is right there.”

And once again Wilson specific sort of bullshit had me on the back foot, “ That is not the issue-” I started.

Capitalizing on my engaging with his nonsense, Wilson cut in, “is it a power thing?”

“I mean kinda-” I tried. This was a mistake. I should know better by now. Wilson wasn’t acting in good faith.

Wilson put his phone away, “Say no more. We can have Denise trussed up like a turkey or a pony in no time.”

“Ew! No!” I snapped. That probably sounded bad. I turned to Denise, “No Offense.”

“None taken!” She replied immediately, slowly creeping out of arm's reach. “Hold on to the feeling. Nurture it. Internalize it.”

“Doug, we are losing the plot,” Angelica pointed out.

“Oh, right, sorry,” I replied with a polite nod to her. I rounded on Wilson again, “What the fuck are we doing?”

“Arbitration,” Wilson said, before drinking the third glass. After emptying it, he tossed it over his shoulder.

“What are you people trying to change?” I growled. I wasn’t going to hit him. If he kept talking shit, I may just devote an unhealthy amount of my life to getting super high level so that when I do hit him, i would fucking hurt.

“I was just about to ask the same thing,” Lindsey declared. She and Brandon were back.

“Wait, is this because of something stupid you did?” I asked her, pointing at her. She just glared at me. So I pointed to Brandon.

Brandon flinched back, “No, I didn’t request a retcon.”

“This is Wilson’s meeting,” Grace said as she appeared at the head of the table.

Everyone looked to Wilson. He gave us all a shit eating grin.

“What are we doing here?” Angelica asked. The faintest hint of fear in her uncertain tone that chilled me.

Wilson pulled out his phone. It instantly started ringing. Wilson was a generic ringtone guy. The screen said “The Boss”.

He answered, “Hello Mr. Smith. I have you on speaker.”

“Oh? Who else is with you?” Mr. Smith asked.

“I have Doug, Grace, Denise and a few others not worth mentioning,” Wilson said in a chipper tone.

He was being polite to Mr. Smith, but he still took a potshot at Brandon and Lindsey. Lindsey clenched her fists. She took a step toward Wilson, but stopped in her tracks when Grace glared at her. Brandon tried to put Denise between him and the phone, but the intern got her back to the wall before the weasel thought to move.

“The whole team then. That’s good.” Mr. Smith said. I could hear the sound of paper shuffling. “I am calling to look at your request, Wilson. I gotta say it isn’t something you see every day.” He paused a moment, “What is the current GRP?”

“Almost 60k,” Wilson answered. When he saw Lindsey’s face he leered as he added, “This most recent arc accounts for more than twenty percent of the growth.”

“I do like those numbers,” Mr. Smith conceded. “That said, I do have concerns that you may be stretched too thin.”

“That is quite valid, sir,” Wilson said deferentially, “But I do have a plan to elevate some of the more industrious interns to have them function as hands on support for the related stories. Denise for example already has a good working relationship with Doug.”

“Is that true Doug?” Mr. Smith asked me.

“Yeah. I would rather work with Denise than Lindsey or Brandon,” I admitted. I mean, what choice did I really have? Lindsey was obviously trying to kill me, and Brandon was the negligent homicide poster boy.

“Why you-” Lindsey started. She managed to stop herself and gazed back at the phone.

“I am glad to hear that,” Mr. Smith said warmly. I could hear the slow sound of some typing, “I am taking a few notes. If everyone is happy with that arrangement, I see no reason to not move forward then.”

“I have concerns,” Grace spoke up.

Wilson frowned at her. uh-oh.

“Please tell me,” Mr. Smith prompted. I could hear more clacking of keys on his end.

“This Titanspawn has derailed multiple story lines,” Grace started.

“Due to inadequate methods,” Wilson chipped in.

Grace shot him a look. Her voice remained emotionless but she was about to throw hands. “He threatened Brandon,” She looked to me, “with a sword.”

“And Brandon folded like a lawn chair,” WIlson added.

“Really…?” Brandon whined.

“That does point to having Wilson and Denise continue working with Doug,” Mr. Smith mentioned, still clacking away.

“This Titanspawn already has Mental Resistance, and Dark magic. Furthermore The impending edge available is Energy Manipulation.” Grace pressed on. She focused on the phone, “These factors mixed with the Crafting capacity could result in the titan spawn having multiple invincibilities. It would be like having a second Nadia.”

Wilson frowned again.

The phone was quiet for a long time, “That is a legitimate problem. How would you handle this?”

“Death at the tower. Maintain Experience progression holds. After a climax arrange a self sacrifice of some sort.” She looked at Angelica, “Probably to save a lover.”

Wilson laughed, “Holy shit! Those two will barely hold hands.”

“Technically there are three of us,” I added. Not to help Wilson so much as to fuck with Grace.

Wilson pointed at me, “Exactly. The angel is dangerously thirsty. Give them half a chance and they would ride any horse to victory, but it is almost like forcing the mood kills the sex drive.”

Wilson is an asshole.

I am not sure what pissed me off more, Grace trying to dictate my lovelife, or Wilson using her manipulation to manipulate me.

Fuckers… one and all.

“What do you recommend then, Wilson?” Mr. Smith asked. He didn’t sound overly amused.

“Oh that is easy,” Wilson said, “Have the Kid, go to the tower. Probably have three clashes with demons on the way up. One with him, Angel, and that Frosty guy, to build hype and set stakes. Keep the level hold on until after the tower, have the clash, and the fall out. Then If Doug is still standing provide a reason for him to not take Energy Manipulation, otherwise let him have it.”

“You would just let him have that?” Mr. Smith asked, he sounded more curious than anything.

“Yeah, Nadia is pretty easy to manage. I have done it since… well since you got promoted sir,” Wilson started.

“Go on,” Mr. Smith prompted typing.

“You just let them do what they want to do,” WIlson said.

Mr. Smith stopped typing, “Why would we even consider that."

Wilson shrugged, “I mean I got 60k reasons to let us try. Do you have any other story pulling those numbers?”

“That is hard to argue with.” Mr. Smith conceded. He typed something, “Are sure you want to do this?

“Absolutely,” Wilson was beaming.

“Alright. Ideally we would have teams handling things like this, but if you are willing. I will make Wilson the Official Narrator for the Titan, and all storyline connected to them. He is going to have the final say on all day to day Narrative beats. Grace I expect you to get your team aligned and supporting Wilson in this. What he says goes…for now.” Mr. Smith’s voice turned stern, “Got It?”

“Yes sir,” Grace said, still emotionless.

“Good,” Mr. Smith said, still stern, “Wilson. Don’t mess this up. When you are done putting things back. Come up to my office. We need to talk.”

The line went dead.

‘Goddammit,” Angelica muttered.

“Wait what the fuck just happened?” I asked.

“I got promoted,” WIlson said, picking up the last glass of champagne. He downed it, “Promoted on top of Grace.” he smiled at her, “It is just like the rude drawings on the bathroom mirror.”

“You’re position is precarious,” grace pointed out, “all that needs to happen is for Doug to die.”

“Best of luck with that, the Kid may be rock stupid, but he is country strong. The most inconvenient form of strong.” Wilson shot back. He started checking his pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Lindsey snapped.

“Cigarettes,” WIlson said, “I really need one.”

“Stress finally getting to you,” she sneered.

“Nah,” Wilson said pulling a pack out his pocket, “I just want to bask in the afterglow of fucking literally everyone in this room.”

“I don’t have to put up with this,” Lindsey stated. She turned to Grace as if to confirm that claim.

Grace was still watching Wilson. A calculating look on her face. As she spoke her eyes remained on Wilson, “We will of course act in good faith and act in regard to the best story for the audience,”

Wilson beamed, “Well said.”

“We are going now,” Grace declared as she turned and walked out the door. I was shocked to see a hallway beyond it. Was this an actual building? Brandon jogged after her, and Lindsey walked out in a pace that was clearly a forced slow speed to demonstrate she was not running.

“I thought you were already in charge of things,” I said watching Wilson.

“Your approval is what gets me out of bed in the morning, Kid,” Wilson shot back. When I just kept watching him he continued, “I was just the Narrator responsible for the All-Death’s story. Basically a nobody. That story doesn’t have any real viewership and most Narators know Nadia will just kill you if you try and talk with them. That’s part of the reason Angel there sought me out.”

I looked to Angelica, “Why?”

“The story I was on… it killed my brother. It was going to kill my dad too,” Angelica sighed. “Celeste pointed out the option to petition for a change and I asked for whoever handled Nadia’s story. They seemed to be extremely hands off.”

“I would offer to let you go back to Fiona, but I had to rip her heart out of her chest,” Wilson turned to Denise, “Did I chop her head off?”

Denise flinched at his attention, “No. You chopped Toby, the intern’s, head off.”

“Right he made the worst coffee,” Wilson nodded.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“That his parents probably never taught him anything,” Wilson replied before blowing a cloud of smoke in my face, “It is really common in Narrators born into the system. Isn’t that right Denise?”

Denise looked down at the floor, “Yeah.”

“You weren’t born into the system?” I asked.

“Nope, I climbed the scale ladder.” He stood arms wide, “Drink it in Kid, you too Angel, if you play your cards right perhaps one day you can be just like me.” he laughed, “As if.” he stopped laughing, “We are running out of time. Anyways. Welcome to Wilson’s World. I am gonna run the train, and there ain’t no brakes. Sit back and enjoy the ride.”

We were back in the snow, maybe another five hundred feet back from where we were. Time started again.

Angelica tried to keep walking, but I just stopped in my tracks. Angelica looked at me. She pulled my hand, but I just stayed still.

Voice of the Titan Activated.

The titan had taken control of my words again. My movements were also subtly stilled. My vision blurred as my eyes unfocused. Then they saw beyond the veil into the afterlife based off the glimpse of Debbie. Then into something else that I couldn’t make out. The Titan looked at and into Angelica

“What I am about to say is not merely for the benefit of you, nor the glimmer of light that hides behind your eyes,” The Titan raised his eyes to the night sky and the moon, had it always been full? “This is just as much for those who creep and spy in our world and beyond,” he looked around us and things in the shadows beyond the veil flitted away. “You believed yourselves unknown and grew bold. You are overextended and committed. Your paths are set. The Chosen one and my left hand will go to the tower, and you will all learn the true meaning of fear.” The Titan had almost growled the last bit. He straightened my back and cleared my throat, “This is my opening move. I await your response.”

Voice of the Titan Deactivated.

He was gone. Neither his arrival nor his departure harmed me in any way, but… okay. I could wax philosophically about the existential nature of the dread that caused. It is probably not worth it. I was literally not in control of my own body. It could be taken away at any time. To my knowledge there was nothing I could do to stop it.

280 years. I am not the titan.

My vision was still blurred. At first I thought it was because my eyes would not focus, but upon blinking I realized I was crying.

Treat this like everything else: understand, come up with a plan, then do. I was scared, because of the weight of everything. There was nothing I could do directly at this time to address the Titan, the Narrators, or any unforeseen problem inevitable on its way. I would simply have to deal with those things as they arrived. That meant my fear needed to be addressed. I need to relax. Spend time with friends, eat, maybe sleep.

I wiped my eyes, “You mentioned ribs.”

Before Angelica could answer, I was glomped by a snow lion.

I really needed to write the dog lover’s manifesto.