Valentine casts his tired eyes over the drab hospital room he’s come to know as home these past few weeks. Magnolia walls with yellowing trim; the curtains too have faded from their original blue and yellow floral pattern to dull shades of beige. He tuts in disgust at the news playing on the boxy television in the corner, and shakes his head as the report downplays the unreal events of last month as a severe weather storm that decimated the London ExCel centre and cost millions in property damage across the city. He reaches for the remote on the edge of the table at his bedside and grimaces at the sharp pain in his gut. Abandoning the remote, he lies back slowly as the door to his room creaks open, and a mass of scruffy red hair emerges from behind it.
Ed skulks into the room and pulls up a chair. “How’s the hole today?” he asks.
“It’s not a hole. How many times do I…! Bah,” Valentine scoffs. “Don’t you have anything better to do than pester an old man?”
“You’re not that old,” Ed replies.
“Ha!” the detective laughs. “So you’re getting out, huh?”
Ed shrugs. “You make it sound like prison.”
“Feels like prison.” Valentine frowns at the unsightly pudding cup on the table while Ed wanders to the window and looks over the get well soon cards on the windowsill. Five in total, one sagging helium balloon and a stuffed bear – undoubtedly from Jessica. He picks up a card, opens it gently and smiles at Remy’s chicken scratch writing.
Valentine knows just whose card he’s looking at. “She came by last week, was getting her arm checked.”
“Yeah, I kind of remember seeing her, but I was so out of it I wasn’t sure if it was just a morphine fever dream. Did she seem okay?”
“Sure…” Valentine says, recalling the lost look in her eyes, hidden behind a smile that wasn’t disingenuous but more a courtesy than anything else, “… I expect she just needs a little time to adjust, eh?”
Ed sets the card down with a loving sigh. “Hole in your gut aside, how’re you coping? Speak to your daughter?”
“She doesn’t want to see an old man on his death bed.”
“You’re not on your death bed.” Ed rolls his eyes. “You did call her though?” he asks.
Valentine lets out a long sigh, bracing himself as he forces out words he can’t bear to hear. “She… she didn’t want to see me.”
“Oh.”
They both look downcast.
“Women, am I right?” Ed’s attempt at lightening the mood falls flat. They sit rapt in silence, and Valentine looks a sorry sight pitying himself in that polka-dot hospital gown.
“Well, these pills they’re giving me are taking their toll,” the detective grumbles, “I better get some rest.”
“Yeah, I’ll leave you to it.” Ed approaches the door and turns the handle.
“Hey uh…” Valentine clears his throat, “… you don’t all have to stop by every day.”
“Yeah, I know. Catch you tomorrow?” he smiles.
Valentine tries not to let on that these visits actually mean a lot to him, but a creeping smirk gives him away. “Yeah, tomorrow.”
With that, Ed pulls the door to and peers through the crack at the tired old man while he stares longingly at the tattered picture of the daughter he misses so dearly.
*
Jessica leans against the bar, anxiously biting her nails to the cuticles while she stares at the stage, recalling the last time she graced it and the audience with the contents of her stomach. What a night that turned out to be. She looks fondly at the venue – the brick walls painted black, the spotlights illuminating the stage which overlooks the concrete dance area surrounded by tables and chairs spaced about. It all feels so much smaller now. Still smells like piss and beer though. At least some things never change.
A hand takes her wrist and gently rests it by her side, sparing what’s left of the chipped black nail polish she’s wearing.
“You shouldn’t bite your nails, I read that it can make your voice deeper.”
Jessica looks with dread at Lauren’s face beaming back at her.
“I’m kidding,” she grins.
“Don’t do that, I’m bricking it enough already.”
Lauren chuckles. “Surely this is nothing compared to your last gig.”
“Is it wrong that I wish we were playing to flesh-eating zombies?” Jessica laughs. “How’s your wrist?”
“Itches like crazy.” Lauren looks at her cast, decorated with doodles and scribbles, most prominently a sketch of Avarice the troll, drawn in black marker like a pin-up you’d see on the side of an old war plane.
“Reckon you could cast a spell or something? Make it heal quicker?” Jessica asks.
“Doubt it,” Lauren sighs. “Think I lost my mojo after Remy sent that thing back to hell. Guess I’m not special anymore.”
“You’re special to me.” With a loving smile, her eyes meet Lauren’s and they lean into each other.
Helen’s jaw hangs open. She stutters, watching the girls kiss and embrace each other.
“Relax, Mum. I’m happy for them.” Remy tries to subdue her shit-eating grin as it all clicks into place for her mother.
“They’re at it again,” George sighs, staring over his shoulder at his sister until his mother nudges him.
“What did we talk about?” Lin asks in a foreboding tone.
He rolls his eyes. “Privacy, yeah, yeah…” He slumps back in his chair, sips his Diet Coke and turns his attention back to the video game he’s playing on his handheld console.
“So all this time they’ve been spending together…” Helen trails off, but her eyes stay fixed on the girls. “… Ray, did you know Jessica and Lauren are—?”
“Mmm,” he mumbles and sips his lager while he scrolls through the news on his phone.
Remy glimpses the article over his shoulder. The residual energy blast from the ferry stone banishing the colossal eye in the sky had caused a city-wide power outage, which had to some extent helped slow the exchange of information about the incident while it unfolded. Because of the whiteout most of the pictures and video evidence were just shaky images of faint silhouettes in the snow – the stuff of conspiracy theorists and crackpots. Call it a cover-up, and maybe it is, but chatter still permeates online. Entire sub-reddits and forums are dedicated to debunking the truth behind the ‘Beast from the East’, as the storm was dubbed by the mainstream media. But only a few truly know the reality of it all. Perhaps reality is a poor choice of word.
Remy spots Bengeo leaning against the back wall, happily devouring a cheeseburger and relishing every bite. Despite his best efforts to blend in, his herculean stature makes him look wildly out of place.
“Not as strong as the stuff you’re used to, but it’s not bad.” Remy approaches and hands him a beer.
“It all goes down the same.”
“It’s not easy being stuck in an alien world, but I hope it’s not been too difficult for you.”
“It ain’t all bad, this world certainly has its perks,” he says, licking ketchup off his fingers.
“Yeah, it’s not so bad.” She glances tentatively at the door.
Bengeo laughs. “Waiting for anyone in particular?”
She breaks into a smile and quickly deflects the conversation. “Jessica show you how to use the internet yet?”
“The magic window thingy? I think I’m getting the hang of it.” He brandishes an old smartphone Jessica had given him and shows her his Instagram profile, which has thousands of followers.
Remy gasps. “How’d you get so many?” She takes the phone and thumbs through his gallery of shirtless pictures and videos of himself lifting inhuman amounts of weight. The latest shows him deadlifting Jessica and Lauren like dumbbells.
“Of course,” Remy laughs, “been in this world less than a month and you’re an influencer.” She notices Bengeo turn his gaze towards the door.
Following his eye line, she sees Constable Alapati looking all dolled up. She scans the room and looks relieved when she spots them.
Remy asks, “Is that—?”
“Yeah,” Bengeo replies.
“She’s coming over.”
“We’ve been… What is it Jessica says? Snapping?”
“Snapping?” Remy looks visibly unsettled. Like a child of divorce whose father is dating someone they disapprove of.
“Hi.” Alapati greets Bengeo with a timid smile while Remy stares at her in utter disbelief. “Remy.” She nods politely.
Remy continues to stare like she’s seen a ghost. “You’re… here?”
“Believe it or not, I’m actually a person under all that stress and paperwork,” Alapati replies.
Remy snaps out of her trance. “Yeah, of course, I just… I mean, I never in a million years thought… because he’s… and you’re… well, you know.”
The three of them stand uncomfortably for a good minute before Remy takes the hint and excuses herself.
Pushing her way through the growing crowd, she steps outside to process Bengeo, not only assimilating into society more successfully than her, but dating the woman who’d spent hours interviewing and cross-examining them about what had really happened while they were missing. It was all an act, sure. She knew the truth, and so did they, but they had to get their story straight – ‘invent a more suitable narrative’ as Valentine had put it. After all, Alapati had to put on a show for her superiors, and there were too many questions that needed answering. But after the game world was gone, the monsters had all festered away and other than some shaky video footage and scrambled statements from panicked convention attendees there wasn’t any concrete evidence that any of it had really happened. Officially the deaths and disappearances of all those at the convention were explained as a tragic loss of life sustained in the building’s collapse. So back to a life of obscurity it is.
The cold night air is a refreshing change from the stench of stale beer permeating the bar. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she casts her eyes at the starry sky. Over the past weeks she had spent a great deal of time staring at the silver moon, reflecting on the trials she had endured and the people that had played such a vital role in it all. She found herself missing them all – Avarice the troll, Regis and the crow-headed wizard Ozrune, Marcus, Cleo and Esmerelda, the townsfolk of Trout, even Astrid and Tank. She often wondered what had become of Pangea Ultima. Had it survived the great calamity? Was it ever just a game or was it always as real as the world around her now? Most of all she thought of Vincent and what had become of him. Had he died, nobly sacrificing himself as he cast Eric’s abominable form into the Scar, or by some miracle clung to life and survived in that place? She wrestled with accepting she would probably never know the answer but liked to believe that they had at least saved the game world from ruin, whatever the nature of its reality was. Strangely she would often picture the look on Vincent’s face as he pushed her off the creature right before casting it into the void – the little smile that graced his lips, the glint in his eye. She doesn’t think she could ever forgive him for all that he’d done, but to some extent, he had redeemed himself in her eyes, if only a little. Her breath materialises in the winter air as she lets out a frustrated sigh, her mind weary from treading in circles.
Ed spies her as he walks the street approaching the bar and stops to watch her through the trees as she lingers in the car park, lost in deep thought. Her dark hair glows at the edges under the hazy yellow streetlight. His heart flutters as she turns, and he ducks, worried that she’ll spot him. He hasn’t the faintest idea what to say, and he’s desperate not to put his foot in it this time. A deep breath brings composure. He peeks again. Her face sends a shiver through him. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
“Hey, you,” he calls to her as he crosses the street, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. His footsteps crunch on the remnants of snow, which had mostly thawed since closing the rift but some still remained, tucked in the nooks of the city.
“Hey.” She greets him with a shy smile.
He looks her up and down, savouring every detail. It feels like a lifetime since they last saw each other properly. He admires her hair tucked behind one ear as it falls onto her face, which is marked by a dozen cuts and scrapes that fade with each passing day, and a sweep of mascara lines her amber eyes which look on him fondly.
“Aren’t you cold?” he asks her.
“I just needed some air.”
He notices the doleful look on her face. “Dwelling on the past?”
“That obvious?” she sighs. “I just… How are we supposed to go back after all of that?”
“Maybe one day it’ll seem like more of a dream than a memory.”
The very notion seems impossible to her. “Do you think you’ll play it again? The game?” she asks.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know, it feels too soon. Maybe someday.”
“Yeah, I get it.” She tucks her loose hair back behind her ear and looks downcast. “Doesn’t it drive you mad? Wondering how… why it all happened? Sometimes I feel like, are we crazy?”
“No,” Ed replies. “I think we’ve just been through some stuff.”
Remy offers a smile at his attempt to comfort her, but the not knowing is gnawing away at her, like an itch that can’t be scratched, and Ed can see it too.
He clears his throat. “Have you ever heard of fictional realism?”
She shakes her head.
“I read about it when I was in the hospital. The theory is that if an infinite number of universes exist, then somewhere a sequence of events has led to things playing out exactly as they do in a video game or a movie or a book. So I’m thinking maybe we weren’t actually in the game at all, but trapped in an alternate universe where the game is reality?”
“So what? We’re all just a work of fiction in someone else’s world?” she asks, her face a picture of scepticism.
Ed shrugs. “Maybe it was all just a big cosmic glitch. That’s my top theory anyway. Others include a secret government experiment gone awry or a tear in the space–time continuum. Honestly I try not to dwell on it too much, or I’ll lose my mind.”
“Yeah…” Remy sighs. “Still, I can’t believe we’re back.”
“How is it? I mean, got any idea what you’re gonna do now?”
She shrugs. “Not really, but I’m okay with that. I decided I’m just going to take some time to figure stuff out, unscramble the egg that is me. I’m realising that who I am isn’t what I do, I still have worth. Besides, Mum has been surprisingly non-confrontational about the whole no job thing, so no pressure there. Guess I’ll be across the road for a little while.”
“That’s good. Awesome actually.” He feigns cool composure, but inside he’s dancing the boogaloo.
“Yeah, I’ve even got an actual bed now,” she laughs.
“Look at you,” he smiles. “You look good. I mean… you seem happier in some way, not that you don’t look good, you do. Great actually! I’m not used to seeing you pretty but… Oh God, not that you weren’t pretty before, I just meant like… you know. But you looked great without makeup too, even with muck and blood all over your face. It was a bold look, but you worked it…” Internally he’s screaming at himself to shut up. He’s faced monsters, undead generals, driven through central London in a blizzard, why is this still so difficult? Chalk it up to some things never change.
Remy finds a smile creeping across her face as he nervously babbles and realises that she kind of missed it. “I’m sorry I’ve been so—”
“Distant?”
She shuffles awkwardly on her feet. “I just needed some time to process everything. The way everything went down, losing Esmerelda and Avarice, well, I needed to get my head right.”
“It’s okay, I get it. It was probably for the best anyway, I got pretty sick from swallowing all that river water.”
“Yeah, I know,” she chuckles. “When I came to see you, you shared every excruciating detail.”
He combs his hand through his hair, dreading to think what he said. “Oh. So that was real? I was pretty out of it.”
She leans towards him. “When you plunged into the Thames, and we thought you were… well, it occurred to me that I’d got pretty used to having you around and recently I realised that I like having you around.”
Her eyes meet his for a fleeting second before absconding to the far reaches of the night, but she caught the smile creeping across his face.
“I think I was a little scared that if we weren’t running for our lives or saving the world then it wouldn’t be the same or we wouldn’t feel… I mean, if you feel the same. Lately, I’ve been thinking about you a lot and well, I really would like it if you were in my life.” She rubs her forehead, looking frustrated. “Am I making any sense?”
He’s been thinking about this moment for the better part of the last month, hopelessly waiting and wondering about her, but now the words are lost. Her eyes are begging him to say something, anything to put her out of her misery. He knows he should kiss her now, but before he can make his move, Helen’s shrill cry carries from the doorway of the bar.
“They’re starting, hurry up and come in!”
“Guess we better…” Remy sighs and nods to the door.
Ed leads her inside, nodding politely at Helen as he passes her. “S-sorry again, about your car,” he mumbles guiltily.
“Thanks, Mum,” Remy’s eyes scream, but Helen’s oblivious as to why.
*
Berserk Statement step onto the stage. Ziggy, Tyler and Scuzz ready their instruments as Jessica adjusts the mic stand to her height. She looks back, giving Scuzz a nod. The music starts, the room falls silent, and all eyes turn to the stage as the spotlights go up. Jessica’s golden hair falls at her shoulders, and her makeup hides her blushing beneath a blanket of white. For a moment, fear seizes her as she presses her lips to the mic, but a deep breath softens the tightness in her chest. She looks out into the crowd, at Lauren, at Remy, at her friends and family, and closes her eyes. She breaks into a smile as she pictures the horde of flesh-eating horrors, which oddly brings her confidence, and as the applause dies down, she parts her cherry lips.
“Is it reality that shapes us, or us who shape reality? Is any of this real or not?” The lyrics roll off her tongue, melting her fear away. Oohs and ahhs roll over the room like waves spilling on sand. Her silvery voice transfixes the crowd as she sings the words only she knows well.
Bengeo smirks as he bobs his head at the back of the room. Watching Jessica sing, and the others dance, makes him feel like it all was for something. His world is gone, and he’s sure he’ll never see it again, but they’re his crew now. His family.
Remy looks proudly at her sister glistening in the spotlights on stage. She stands with Ed amidst the crowd, stealing glances and choking her words while they tremble beside one another. Her hand grazes his, and her heart spikes as he takes hold of it. For a moment, she forgets her troubles and rests easy. Even though her adventure is over she knows this is the beginning of so many things.