RE: The Battle of the Victors (*S1/2*) - Round 1? - Pizza World?
12-01-2023, 10:10 AM
Fran wasn’t sure how long she’d slept for. The sky was lit only by a red glow coming from one direction, which would be for a moment be eclipsed by an enormous spinning object roughly once a minute. Of course, if she was on an enormous world sized pizza it only followed that she was in an even more enormous universe sized oven.
And it was hot. She was already panting to try to draw cool air into her body when she woke up, but it wasn’t really helping. She quickly became aware of something prodding insistently at her chest and sat up with a start.
There, next to her, was the little machine that had been identified as Myrrh. Up close it was easier to see that it was a thin rectangular black box, with a number of little flashing lights, a pair of small antennas at either end, and it was covered in little stickers. The whole thing was affixed atop a complicated construction of ten mechanical legs, one of which was intermittently poking her side.
“Oh um hi.” Fran said, too hot and still too groggy to really form a coherent thought at this point. Which was to say nothing of the flickering envelope that was really going wild right now. She figured she should probably ask somebody about that at some point.
Myrrh wasn’t saying anything. Did she even have a mouth? The Gambler had been saying something about emails, whatever they were. Abruptly this train of thought was ended when Fran noticed, lying on the other side of her was her blade Phaetix, just dumped on the greasy ground like an afterthought. She scrabbled to her feet and grabbed her sword, wiping it down with a handful of her blouse. The thick glob of grease that schlooped onto the ground turned her stomach and she swore she was never eating pizza ever again.
There was the sound of mechanical clacking and Myrrh was poking her again, now in the foot. “Can I help you with something?” She asked. The envelope flickered again. “Is… is that you? The envelope thing?” Another flicker. “Is that what The Gambler meant when they said email?” Another flicker. “Okay.” she said. “Well… I don’t know what to do about that. Sorry.” The envelope flickering furiously. “Okay hold on.”
Fran knelt down and picked up Myrrh. She was a little heavier than Fran was anticipating, but not enough that she had to put her back down immediately. Fran drew her up to her eyeline and examined the stickers attached to the little router. Most of the stickers had lots of extremely small text, a couple of them had a stylized image of a girl with no fur, big eyes, a wide smile and a helmet with wings on the side. Most of these images only depicted her from the neck up but one was of her full body, in this one she was wearing a loose white toga and was making a v sign with her fingers. “Oh cute.” Fran murmured, but a flickering of the envelope reminded her of what she was looking for.
“Thank you for your purchase of an Impulse ‘97™ Direct Interface Router (DIR). For more information on the Impulse line of Instant Connectivity Equipment please visit-”
She skimmed ahead.
“If you are having trouble connecting please check the Internet Connectivity Status light and the Local Cognitive Network Status lights located on the front of the unit and refer to the table below for more information on next steps:”
Not that either.
“Instructions for use of the virtual interface:
The virtual interface can be controlled by hand gesture, eye movement, or by inputting commands either through concentrated thought or direct speech.”
And then there was a table of different functions and their inputs. Fran skimmed down the column… setting a desktop wallpaper… opening an internet browser… customizing the iconography of your virtual interface… hiding notifications… adding someone to your contact list… ahh, there it was, opening an email.
“Fran!” Fran only just had time to look up and see Ginger approaching before she slammed into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. Unstable on the greasy ground Fran was only just able to stop herself from dropping Myrrh. “I was so worried about you Fran.”
“I’m okay.” She said placatingly. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t a little touch and go, but everyone’s okay.”
“I want you to promise not to run off like that again.” Ginger insisted. “You could have died…” She trailed off, her eyes going to the router Fran was still awkwardly holding aloft. “You’ve not been talking to her have you?” she asked, looking back up at Fran.
“I’ve been trying, but I only just learned how to operate the interface.”
Ginger pulled away and tried to grab Myrrh out of her hands. “It’s a good job I got here in time.” she said. “Myrrh is dangerous.” The email notification flickered up again.
“I think she’s kinda cute.” Fran said, refusing to let go of Myrrh.
“Don’t forget that she won her battle.” Ginger was insistent. “And she did it even without her little spider legs, and who knows what other tricks are in there.”
“Isn’t that true of all of us though?” Fran asked. “We wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t won.”
“How about we both put her down and then we go and have a private conversation about this.” Ginger suggested.
Fran was hesitant. “I don’t know, it really feels like she wants to talk to me.” Ginger sighed.
“This is what she does.” She said, finally letting go of Myrrh. “She’s a manipulator, Fran. She survived by turning everyone else against each other, breaking up friendships, leading them all to kill one another while she stood off on the side cute and sweet like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.” The email notification flashing on and off furiously again.
Fran looked down at the little router, the weight of her finally getting to be too much, and placed her back on the ground. “I don’t know.” Fran said uncertainly. It was true if she was here she was here for a reason. Myrrh seemed like the most harmless out of the competitors, followed up closely by the girl with the worms, Natasha. “Where did you hear this from?”
“The Baker told me.” A tiny moment of hesitation before she spoke. “When you were off on your walk.”
“I don’t think we can trust The Baker.” Fran said. “I’d be reluctant to take anything the Hosts have to say at face value.”
“The Baker isn’t like the rest of them. She’s nice. She’s trying to help us.” Ginger’s voice was quivering, her whole body shaking. “Please, just believe me on this one.”
Fran sighed, walked over and hugged Ginger. She still wasn’t convinced but it was clear that Ginger wasn’t backing down and Fran hated seeing her whipping herself up into a state like this. “Okay.” she said and immediately an email notification popped up. Fran turned her head back to the router and mouthed an apology.
“Thank you Fran, you’re the best.” Ginger said happily. “Oh! There was something I wanted to show you.” She shook herself free of Fran’s embrace and opened up her satchel.
Inside there were a number of scrolls, neatly stacked on their sides, a couple of spiral bound notebooks with pens shoved through the loops, a plastic looking wand with a big yellow star on the end, and a big thick book filled with bookmarks and sometimes stuffed with loose pages. It was thick and heavy enough that Ginger laid it down on the meaty ground and knelt down to leaf through it.
Fran stood next to her, unwilling to join her in kneeling on the pepperoni floor. All of the text within the book seemed to be written in symbols that Fran was unfamiliar with. As she found her page, Fran looked around. Myrrh was still hanging around nearby, not really making any move to come over or go away. Aside from a couple of trees, just regular trees, definitely not in-keeping with this worlds culinary aesthetic, it seemed featureless and flat in every direction. If she really squinted it was possible to make out a silhouette of a shape in the sky in the direction of the oven light.
“Here.” Ginger said, showing her a page with lots of the indecipherable writing and a diagram of a circle with various lines connecting across it. “I think this should open a portal.”
“To where?” Fran asked. Ginger shrugged.
“I dunno, it’s a portal. They go wherever, right?”
“I think portals usually go somewhere specific.” Fran said. “Doesn’t it say?”
“I’m still learning the runes.” Ginger shook her head. “But if it’s in the book then it’s a good portal. I promise.”
“Maybe we should wait until we’ve got everyone together before we try it?” Fran asked.
“I think trying to get any significant number of us to agree on anything would be a bad time.” Ginger said simply. “Can you draw me out this circle?”
Fran shot Myrrh, still lurking nearby, a glance and asked: “Did The Baker tell you what happened to us last round.”
“We can’t talk about that here.” Ginger said, her gaze also drifting over to Myrrh. She got up from where she was kneeling, and stomped over to the router and started shooing her away. “This isn’t for you. You can’t come through here.”
“Aren’t you worried that maybe this,” Fran gestured to the book, “is what did that. The thing we’re not going to talk about.” An email notification.
“Nuh uh. No way.” Ginger said. “Its gonna be safe and maybe it even helps you get home. You were telling me all about your friends who were counting on you to get back and help them. Can they really afford to wait while we struggle our way through a big fight?”
Fran hesitated. She did want to go home. She did want to help her friends. The Baker had said she was taking care of it, but how trustworthy was her word? And not to be dismissive of Ginger's ability but she doubted some random portal from this book she couldn't really read was going to be the solution to all their problems. It'd be easier to let her try and maybe they'd get lucky and it would be something useful. And if not well, what's the worst that could come of it. Things were already pretty dire.
“Its a pretty big supposition you’re making there.” Fran said, but her reluctance didn’t stop her from scoring out the rough shape of the symbol (as depicted in Ginger’s book) in the pepperoni floor, using the tip of her blade.
“Okay now you stand here, and I’ll stand over here.” Ginger directed her into position as she took her own. A little way away Myrrh was slowly turning around on the spot. Ginger glanced in her direction and pulled a face. “Now you just hold still I’m going to start the incantation.”
As Ginger started to chant unfamiliar magical words Fran’s attention was fixed on the little router, finishing her rotation and then carefully adjusting her position. There was a part in Myrrh’s base she hadn’t noticed until now, a small circular protrusion that almost looked like… She went to lunge forward, to push Ginger out of the way, but found herself locked in position. “Ginger, watch out.” she cried. Ginger didn’t even stop her chant, she casually raised a hand in Myrrh’s direction as the crack of the shot thundered out. The bullet stopped in mid air at the edge of the circle before falling harmlessly to the ground.
Fran squirmed uselessly. Frick. Frick frick frick. What had she just been saying about not trusting The Baker? She’d only come to the conclusion that Ginger was to be trusted because she'd said they were friends in the first place.
Myrrh scurried towards the edge of the circle and started attempting to scratch lines in the meaty floor, probably hoping to disrupt whatever ritual Ginger was doing. Fran could do little else other than stand immobilized and swear internally. Until she noticed the email notification symbol that she’d mostly managed to tune out at this point.
Myrrh’s guide said she could open it with intense concentration. She just needed the right phrase. Show email did nothing. Display email likewise. Her head was starting to throb and she was feeling a tingling pain in her feet and her hands. Read email, nope. Look at email nothing. Open email and finally a long list of emails opened ordered from newest to oldest.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Ding! Ding! Ding! Correct Answer. Please for the love of God Fran read your fucking emails.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Maybe at least give me an opportunity to defend myself?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: She is lying to your face.”
It felt as though her entire body was emptying. She almost wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d looked down and her feet and hands were gone. Her head was pounding, her eyes struggling to stay open, every breath was excruciating.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: This is lies. This is slander, do not listen to her.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: You’re not going to just believe her just like that are you?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: She’s calling me dangerous when she’s the one whose already killed you once. That’s-”
There was shouting from nearby. Fran tried to turn her head, but through her dimming vision and the email overlay she couldn’t really tell what was happening.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: If you could get a move on, she’s probably already noticed we’re together.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Well I fucking tried I suppose.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: You’re just giving up then?”
It would have been easy to give up. The pain was in her torso now. She felt like she was dissolving. She felt like she was a sheet of paper trying to stand up to a hurricane. Everything felt so far away now, yet she clung on because how could she stop?
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Oh god she has no idea what an email is. We’re fucked.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Yes it’s called an email.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: We could help one another if you would just open your emails.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes open any more. The text of the emails hung white and crisp in the blackness behind her eyes.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: No but really it is kind of urgent.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Really would appreciate it if you could take a look at these.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Nice to meet you in person.”
Barely able to keep her focus any more she found herself thinking of her friends, of Rochelle and Nova and all the rest of them. Of Valhart and their schemes. Of a world that she wasn’t going to be able to protect any more.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Could you open the door please?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Important information about Ginger. Please open.”
Frick.
—
Ginger finished her incantation and Franchesca fell to the floor, an empty shell. She waited for the inrushing of power, the culmination of everything she’d been promised. And there was nothing. Just like last time.
Ginger turned and glared at Urzov. “What do you want?”
“No 'thank you'?” Urzov asked, affronted.
“For what?” Ginger snapped back. “Distracting me while I was carrying out the most important incantation of my life?”
“Hey I just thought you wouldn’t want Myrrh broadcasting your whole shit to everyone.” Urzov said. “Though given your actions maybe you’ve given up on trying to stay low-key.”
“I’d have held off if I could but Myrrh forced my hand.” Ginger said defensively. “What did you do with her?”
“Just flung her. Ummm over that way I think.” Urzov pointed off in one of the many near identical directions. “She should be okay I think. Worst case she’s in the cheese and next round she’s just a solid block of cheese sending everyone very irate emails about it. Maybe it even distracts her from this shitshow.”
“Whatever, she’s not important. I don’t think.” Ginger said. She wiped the grease off her tome and stuffed it back into her satchel. “Can you help me with that?” she gestured towards Franchesca’s corpse.
“I’m not your lackey. If you want my help you tell me what the fuck you’re actually doing.” Urzov said, crossing her arms.
“I can do it on my own then, as usual.” Ginger walked over to Franchesca’s body and struggled pathetically to pick it up for a solid minute before dropping it akwardly.
Urzov sighed. “Fine. Just this once.” She gathered up Franchesca’s body in her arms and looked expectantly over at Ginger.
The world shifted around them, in one easy movement the empty void of the pizza world blurs and resolves into the half-destroyed auditorium of the Ill-Fortune Theatre.
“I’ve kind of changed my mind on this Pizza round.” The Gambler was saying. “It kind of has an old school sort of vibe to it. Rounds these days are all so uhh what’s the word?” None of the gathered hosts deigned to offer them a suggestion. “So… fleshed out. Everyone wants rounds that feel like part of understandable worlds, nobody wants just an abstract place with no inhabitants. No distractions just good old fashioned contestants fighting each other."
“There are inhabitants.” The High-Roller was maybe a tenth of their original size. Their vast bulk was now highly charred and slightly melted coins, with only a couple of burnt credit cards and money notes left. “Look, Worm Hotel has found a village of mushroom people.”
The Gambler and The High-Roller were sat in the wreckage of the front row watching the events of the round on projected screens. The Baker, The Bride and The Tormentrix were all sat off to the other side of the auditorium passing around a binder full of round concepts and arguing over what they should actually do. The Oddball was up on stage spinning in place. For all their self-righteousness nobody seemed to actually care that The Authority was dead. Ginger certainly wasn’t going to be one to buck that trend.
Ginger grabbed Urzov by the elbow and pulled her into the backstage area. It was a dusty empty space with some old painted stage dressing scattered haphazardly. “Stay here for a minute while I get The Baker.”
“Sure. I love doing what I’m told with no context.” Urzov sulked, and then with a grin. “Think I’d get anything useful from eating her?”
Ginger was already walking back out onto the stage. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare?” Urzov muttered to herself bitterly.
Ginger approached the trio of the Bride, the Baker and the Tormentrix.
“Look I know everything’s really intense right now. That’s why I’m advocating so hard for Aeternus Viva. Just look at those gorgeous views, that selection of entertainment, to say nothing of their spa options. Isn’t it just what we all need to get our mind off this unpleasantness?”
“You’re painfully transparently trying to extend your honeymoon through our victors battle. You didn’t even like Thora.”
“Nobody liked Thora.”
“True, but we should at least try to run this fight like a fight in her stead.”
“I think this stopped being a ‘big fight’ when The Recluse joined in.” The Tormentrix interrupted. “Now we should be doing damage control, not pretending everything is fine.”
Ginger cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” The Tormentrix rolled her eyes.
“You’re really going to stand there and accuse me of having an agenda when you’re doing whatever the fuck this is with your contestants?” The Bride snatched back the round binder from The Baker.
“I’ll just be a moment.” she said, slithering over Ginger and grabbing her with one of her sets of arms.
“Backstage.” Ginger whispered and they walked back there together in silence, passing by an empty handed Urzov who just winked at her and kept on walking. When they got back there they found Franchesca’s body, still in tact, laid down on a dusty table.
“Another failure? Really you should just let me see Trina’s-”
“It’s mine.” Ginger snapped. “I can get it to work.”
“Of course, Princess.” The Baker took Ginger in her arms and hugged her tight, while simultaneously she examined Franchesca’s body. “Empty.” she said.
In a moment they were back in The Baker’s extensive kitchens. She opened a cupboard and inside was a stack of books, ten in total. The top two showed some charring and warping from heat. The Baker grabbed the next one down. On the cover was a picture of Franchesca and her nemesis Valhart in a withered field of flowers. ‘The Love of the Void’.
“Are you sure it has to be her?”
Ginger pulled herself loose of the hug. “It has to be her.” she said.
“Only, we can’t keep doing this. You know that right? People are going to start noticing if we keep unmaking her stories.”
“I know!” Ginger snapped. “I get that, I’m gonna get it right this time.” Without further comment The Baker popped The Love of the Void onto a person sized baking tray and slid it into the oven.
And it was hot. She was already panting to try to draw cool air into her body when she woke up, but it wasn’t really helping. She quickly became aware of something prodding insistently at her chest and sat up with a start.
There, next to her, was the little machine that had been identified as Myrrh. Up close it was easier to see that it was a thin rectangular black box, with a number of little flashing lights, a pair of small antennas at either end, and it was covered in little stickers. The whole thing was affixed atop a complicated construction of ten mechanical legs, one of which was intermittently poking her side.
“Oh um hi.” Fran said, too hot and still too groggy to really form a coherent thought at this point. Which was to say nothing of the flickering envelope that was really going wild right now. She figured she should probably ask somebody about that at some point.
Myrrh wasn’t saying anything. Did she even have a mouth? The Gambler had been saying something about emails, whatever they were. Abruptly this train of thought was ended when Fran noticed, lying on the other side of her was her blade Phaetix, just dumped on the greasy ground like an afterthought. She scrabbled to her feet and grabbed her sword, wiping it down with a handful of her blouse. The thick glob of grease that schlooped onto the ground turned her stomach and she swore she was never eating pizza ever again.
There was the sound of mechanical clacking and Myrrh was poking her again, now in the foot. “Can I help you with something?” She asked. The envelope flickered again. “Is… is that you? The envelope thing?” Another flicker. “Is that what The Gambler meant when they said email?” Another flicker. “Okay.” she said. “Well… I don’t know what to do about that. Sorry.” The envelope flickering furiously. “Okay hold on.”
Fran knelt down and picked up Myrrh. She was a little heavier than Fran was anticipating, but not enough that she had to put her back down immediately. Fran drew her up to her eyeline and examined the stickers attached to the little router. Most of the stickers had lots of extremely small text, a couple of them had a stylized image of a girl with no fur, big eyes, a wide smile and a helmet with wings on the side. Most of these images only depicted her from the neck up but one was of her full body, in this one she was wearing a loose white toga and was making a v sign with her fingers. “Oh cute.” Fran murmured, but a flickering of the envelope reminded her of what she was looking for.
“Thank you for your purchase of an Impulse ‘97™ Direct Interface Router (DIR). For more information on the Impulse line of Instant Connectivity Equipment please visit-”
She skimmed ahead.
“If you are having trouble connecting please check the Internet Connectivity Status light and the Local Cognitive Network Status lights located on the front of the unit and refer to the table below for more information on next steps:”
Not that either.
“Instructions for use of the virtual interface:
The virtual interface can be controlled by hand gesture, eye movement, or by inputting commands either through concentrated thought or direct speech.”
And then there was a table of different functions and their inputs. Fran skimmed down the column… setting a desktop wallpaper… opening an internet browser… customizing the iconography of your virtual interface… hiding notifications… adding someone to your contact list… ahh, there it was, opening an email.
“Fran!” Fran only just had time to look up and see Ginger approaching before she slammed into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight. Unstable on the greasy ground Fran was only just able to stop herself from dropping Myrrh. “I was so worried about you Fran.”
“I’m okay.” She said placatingly. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t a little touch and go, but everyone’s okay.”
“I want you to promise not to run off like that again.” Ginger insisted. “You could have died…” She trailed off, her eyes going to the router Fran was still awkwardly holding aloft. “You’ve not been talking to her have you?” she asked, looking back up at Fran.
“I’ve been trying, but I only just learned how to operate the interface.”
Ginger pulled away and tried to grab Myrrh out of her hands. “It’s a good job I got here in time.” she said. “Myrrh is dangerous.” The email notification flickered up again.
“I think she’s kinda cute.” Fran said, refusing to let go of Myrrh.
“Don’t forget that she won her battle.” Ginger was insistent. “And she did it even without her little spider legs, and who knows what other tricks are in there.”
“Isn’t that true of all of us though?” Fran asked. “We wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t won.”
“How about we both put her down and then we go and have a private conversation about this.” Ginger suggested.
Fran was hesitant. “I don’t know, it really feels like she wants to talk to me.” Ginger sighed.
“This is what she does.” She said, finally letting go of Myrrh. “She’s a manipulator, Fran. She survived by turning everyone else against each other, breaking up friendships, leading them all to kill one another while she stood off on the side cute and sweet like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.” The email notification flashing on and off furiously again.
Fran looked down at the little router, the weight of her finally getting to be too much, and placed her back on the ground. “I don’t know.” Fran said uncertainly. It was true if she was here she was here for a reason. Myrrh seemed like the most harmless out of the competitors, followed up closely by the girl with the worms, Natasha. “Where did you hear this from?”
“The Baker told me.” A tiny moment of hesitation before she spoke. “When you were off on your walk.”
“I don’t think we can trust The Baker.” Fran said. “I’d be reluctant to take anything the Hosts have to say at face value.”
“The Baker isn’t like the rest of them. She’s nice. She’s trying to help us.” Ginger’s voice was quivering, her whole body shaking. “Please, just believe me on this one.”
Fran sighed, walked over and hugged Ginger. She still wasn’t convinced but it was clear that Ginger wasn’t backing down and Fran hated seeing her whipping herself up into a state like this. “Okay.” she said and immediately an email notification popped up. Fran turned her head back to the router and mouthed an apology.
“Thank you Fran, you’re the best.” Ginger said happily. “Oh! There was something I wanted to show you.” She shook herself free of Fran’s embrace and opened up her satchel.
Inside there were a number of scrolls, neatly stacked on their sides, a couple of spiral bound notebooks with pens shoved through the loops, a plastic looking wand with a big yellow star on the end, and a big thick book filled with bookmarks and sometimes stuffed with loose pages. It was thick and heavy enough that Ginger laid it down on the meaty ground and knelt down to leaf through it.
Fran stood next to her, unwilling to join her in kneeling on the pepperoni floor. All of the text within the book seemed to be written in symbols that Fran was unfamiliar with. As she found her page, Fran looked around. Myrrh was still hanging around nearby, not really making any move to come over or go away. Aside from a couple of trees, just regular trees, definitely not in-keeping with this worlds culinary aesthetic, it seemed featureless and flat in every direction. If she really squinted it was possible to make out a silhouette of a shape in the sky in the direction of the oven light.
“Here.” Ginger said, showing her a page with lots of the indecipherable writing and a diagram of a circle with various lines connecting across it. “I think this should open a portal.”
“To where?” Fran asked. Ginger shrugged.
“I dunno, it’s a portal. They go wherever, right?”
“I think portals usually go somewhere specific.” Fran said. “Doesn’t it say?”
“I’m still learning the runes.” Ginger shook her head. “But if it’s in the book then it’s a good portal. I promise.”
“Maybe we should wait until we’ve got everyone together before we try it?” Fran asked.
“I think trying to get any significant number of us to agree on anything would be a bad time.” Ginger said simply. “Can you draw me out this circle?”
Fran shot Myrrh, still lurking nearby, a glance and asked: “Did The Baker tell you what happened to us last round.”
“We can’t talk about that here.” Ginger said, her gaze also drifting over to Myrrh. She got up from where she was kneeling, and stomped over to the router and started shooing her away. “This isn’t for you. You can’t come through here.”
“Aren’t you worried that maybe this,” Fran gestured to the book, “is what did that. The thing we’re not going to talk about.” An email notification.
“Nuh uh. No way.” Ginger said. “Its gonna be safe and maybe it even helps you get home. You were telling me all about your friends who were counting on you to get back and help them. Can they really afford to wait while we struggle our way through a big fight?”
Fran hesitated. She did want to go home. She did want to help her friends. The Baker had said she was taking care of it, but how trustworthy was her word? And not to be dismissive of Ginger's ability but she doubted some random portal from this book she couldn't really read was going to be the solution to all their problems. It'd be easier to let her try and maybe they'd get lucky and it would be something useful. And if not well, what's the worst that could come of it. Things were already pretty dire.
“Its a pretty big supposition you’re making there.” Fran said, but her reluctance didn’t stop her from scoring out the rough shape of the symbol (as depicted in Ginger’s book) in the pepperoni floor, using the tip of her blade.
“Okay now you stand here, and I’ll stand over here.” Ginger directed her into position as she took her own. A little way away Myrrh was slowly turning around on the spot. Ginger glanced in her direction and pulled a face. “Now you just hold still I’m going to start the incantation.”
As Ginger started to chant unfamiliar magical words Fran’s attention was fixed on the little router, finishing her rotation and then carefully adjusting her position. There was a part in Myrrh’s base she hadn’t noticed until now, a small circular protrusion that almost looked like… She went to lunge forward, to push Ginger out of the way, but found herself locked in position. “Ginger, watch out.” she cried. Ginger didn’t even stop her chant, she casually raised a hand in Myrrh’s direction as the crack of the shot thundered out. The bullet stopped in mid air at the edge of the circle before falling harmlessly to the ground.
Fran squirmed uselessly. Frick. Frick frick frick. What had she just been saying about not trusting The Baker? She’d only come to the conclusion that Ginger was to be trusted because she'd said they were friends in the first place.
Myrrh scurried towards the edge of the circle and started attempting to scratch lines in the meaty floor, probably hoping to disrupt whatever ritual Ginger was doing. Fran could do little else other than stand immobilized and swear internally. Until she noticed the email notification symbol that she’d mostly managed to tune out at this point.
Myrrh’s guide said she could open it with intense concentration. She just needed the right phrase. Show email did nothing. Display email likewise. Her head was starting to throb and she was feeling a tingling pain in her feet and her hands. Read email, nope. Look at email nothing. Open email and finally a long list of emails opened ordered from newest to oldest.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Ding! Ding! Ding! Correct Answer. Please for the love of God Fran read your fucking emails.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Maybe at least give me an opportunity to defend myself?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: She is lying to your face.”
It felt as though her entire body was emptying. She almost wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d looked down and her feet and hands were gone. Her head was pounding, her eyes struggling to stay open, every breath was excruciating.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: This is lies. This is slander, do not listen to her.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: You’re not going to just believe her just like that are you?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: She’s calling me dangerous when she’s the one whose already killed you once. That’s-”
There was shouting from nearby. Fran tried to turn her head, but through her dimming vision and the email overlay she couldn’t really tell what was happening.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: If you could get a move on, she’s probably already noticed we’re together.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Well I fucking tried I suppose.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: You’re just giving up then?”
It would have been easy to give up. The pain was in her torso now. She felt like she was dissolving. She felt like she was a sheet of paper trying to stand up to a hurricane. Everything felt so far away now, yet she clung on because how could she stop?
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Oh god she has no idea what an email is. We’re fucked.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Yes it’s called an email.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: We could help one another if you would just open your emails.”
She couldn’t keep her eyes open any more. The text of the emails hung white and crisp in the blackness behind her eyes.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: No but really it is kind of urgent.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Really would appreciate it if you could take a look at these.”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Nice to meet you in person.”
Barely able to keep her focus any more she found herself thinking of her friends, of Rochelle and Nova and all the rest of them. Of Valhart and their schemes. Of a world that she wasn’t going to be able to protect any more.
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Could you open the door please?”
“To Franchesca@LCN From: Myrrh@LCN Subject: Important information about Ginger. Please open.”
Frick.
—
Ginger finished her incantation and Franchesca fell to the floor, an empty shell. She waited for the inrushing of power, the culmination of everything she’d been promised. And there was nothing. Just like last time.
Ginger turned and glared at Urzov. “What do you want?”
“No 'thank you'?” Urzov asked, affronted.
“For what?” Ginger snapped back. “Distracting me while I was carrying out the most important incantation of my life?”
“Hey I just thought you wouldn’t want Myrrh broadcasting your whole shit to everyone.” Urzov said. “Though given your actions maybe you’ve given up on trying to stay low-key.”
“I’d have held off if I could but Myrrh forced my hand.” Ginger said defensively. “What did you do with her?”
“Just flung her. Ummm over that way I think.” Urzov pointed off in one of the many near identical directions. “She should be okay I think. Worst case she’s in the cheese and next round she’s just a solid block of cheese sending everyone very irate emails about it. Maybe it even distracts her from this shitshow.”
“Whatever, she’s not important. I don’t think.” Ginger said. She wiped the grease off her tome and stuffed it back into her satchel. “Can you help me with that?” she gestured towards Franchesca’s corpse.
“I’m not your lackey. If you want my help you tell me what the fuck you’re actually doing.” Urzov said, crossing her arms.
“I can do it on my own then, as usual.” Ginger walked over to Franchesca’s body and struggled pathetically to pick it up for a solid minute before dropping it akwardly.
Urzov sighed. “Fine. Just this once.” She gathered up Franchesca’s body in her arms and looked expectantly over at Ginger.
The world shifted around them, in one easy movement the empty void of the pizza world blurs and resolves into the half-destroyed auditorium of the Ill-Fortune Theatre.
“I’ve kind of changed my mind on this Pizza round.” The Gambler was saying. “It kind of has an old school sort of vibe to it. Rounds these days are all so uhh what’s the word?” None of the gathered hosts deigned to offer them a suggestion. “So… fleshed out. Everyone wants rounds that feel like part of understandable worlds, nobody wants just an abstract place with no inhabitants. No distractions just good old fashioned contestants fighting each other."
“There are inhabitants.” The High-Roller was maybe a tenth of their original size. Their vast bulk was now highly charred and slightly melted coins, with only a couple of burnt credit cards and money notes left. “Look, Worm Hotel has found a village of mushroom people.”
The Gambler and The High-Roller were sat in the wreckage of the front row watching the events of the round on projected screens. The Baker, The Bride and The Tormentrix were all sat off to the other side of the auditorium passing around a binder full of round concepts and arguing over what they should actually do. The Oddball was up on stage spinning in place. For all their self-righteousness nobody seemed to actually care that The Authority was dead. Ginger certainly wasn’t going to be one to buck that trend.
Ginger grabbed Urzov by the elbow and pulled her into the backstage area. It was a dusty empty space with some old painted stage dressing scattered haphazardly. “Stay here for a minute while I get The Baker.”
“Sure. I love doing what I’m told with no context.” Urzov sulked, and then with a grin. “Think I’d get anything useful from eating her?”
Ginger was already walking back out onto the stage. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare?” Urzov muttered to herself bitterly.
Ginger approached the trio of the Bride, the Baker and the Tormentrix.
“Look I know everything’s really intense right now. That’s why I’m advocating so hard for Aeternus Viva. Just look at those gorgeous views, that selection of entertainment, to say nothing of their spa options. Isn’t it just what we all need to get our mind off this unpleasantness?”
“You’re painfully transparently trying to extend your honeymoon through our victors battle. You didn’t even like Thora.”
“Nobody liked Thora.”
“True, but we should at least try to run this fight like a fight in her stead.”
“I think this stopped being a ‘big fight’ when The Recluse joined in.” The Tormentrix interrupted. “Now we should be doing damage control, not pretending everything is fine.”
Ginger cleared her throat. “Excuse me.” The Tormentrix rolled her eyes.
“You’re really going to stand there and accuse me of having an agenda when you’re doing whatever the fuck this is with your contestants?” The Bride snatched back the round binder from The Baker.
“I’ll just be a moment.” she said, slithering over Ginger and grabbing her with one of her sets of arms.
“Backstage.” Ginger whispered and they walked back there together in silence, passing by an empty handed Urzov who just winked at her and kept on walking. When they got back there they found Franchesca’s body, still in tact, laid down on a dusty table.
“Another failure? Really you should just let me see Trina’s-”
“It’s mine.” Ginger snapped. “I can get it to work.”
“Of course, Princess.” The Baker took Ginger in her arms and hugged her tight, while simultaneously she examined Franchesca’s body. “Empty.” she said.
In a moment they were back in The Baker’s extensive kitchens. She opened a cupboard and inside was a stack of books, ten in total. The top two showed some charring and warping from heat. The Baker grabbed the next one down. On the cover was a picture of Franchesca and her nemesis Valhart in a withered field of flowers. ‘The Love of the Void’.
“Are you sure it has to be her?”
Ginger pulled herself loose of the hug. “It has to be her.” she said.
“Only, we can’t keep doing this. You know that right? People are going to start noticing if we keep unmaking her stories.”
“I know!” Ginger snapped. “I get that, I’m gonna get it right this time.” Without further comment The Baker popped The Love of the Void onto a person sized baking tray and slid it into the oven.