Alex smiled from the ledge, hovering between life and death. “The key was always right there.”
Charlie didn’t speak. There was such an eerie calm about Alex, Charlie didn’t dare.
“One for all, and all for one. That’s what we used to say.”
Alex lifted a foot, just for a moment, and seemed to waver forward.
Fifty feet down, the darkness beckoned.
Charlie raised a hand, slowly—Don’t. Wait.
“It was my idea. Not the Game’s. I will be the One for All. I will free All for One.”
Charlie took a slow, careful step forward. Let him talk, he told himself. Don’t startle him.
Alex rocked back on his heels. “I know how you quit the Game. I know that’s what you want. But you don’t have the guts to do it. I’ll do it for you. I made a deal. My life, to set you all free. And every day, you’ll remember me. What I did for you.”
Charlie stepped forward again, hand up, gently.
Bad thoughts tried to fight into his conscious mind, bubbling up from the id. Would it be so wrong? What is the alternative? Everyone dying, one by one, in the Game, like that hackers’ thread? Or playing forever, losing our minds like Scott Parker?
And Alex wanted to die. His plan made so much sense, it was so win-win, that Charlie started to question his own sanity. But he knew these were just greedy, impish thoughts from the id. He’d been through too much to claim they weren’t part of him, but he shoved them back down in the vault where they belonged.
Charlie finally managed to speak, but it came out hoarse. “I’m sorry, Alex.”
Alex just blinked.
“Come down. If you want me to owe you, that’s how, because that’s what I want. For you to come down.”
“It’s too late.” Alex smiled sadly. “I’m too far away.”
Did he mean the distance from Charlie to the ledge? Or to Mars? Either way, it was too far to bridge in time.
“I have to go now. Build me a totem.”
“Why don’t you finally leave him alone,” a voice said from behind Charlie.
Peter was here. “The Eye of God sees all.” He smiled.
Alex looked at Peter with a mix of awe and envy. He was the only one better at the Game than Alex. Peter had brought the Game to Alex—and the Game had given Alex’s life its only meaning.
“You apologize to him?” Peter brushed past Charlie. “But you never give him what he asks. They’re not worth it, Alex. They’re not worth your sacrifice.”
“They’ll owe me. I’m the hero.”
Peter smiled. “I know. But there’s other ways to own them.”
He moved so casually, so lovingly, toward Alex, that Alex was completely off guard when Peter grabbed him, pulling him back from the edge, face-to-face.
“They’re my pieces, Alex,” Peter said gently. “I can’t let you set them free.”
“I want to die,” Alex moaned.
“I know. I’m going to give you that, too. And then the rest of us will play forever.”
Peter lifted him off the ledge. Alex’s eyes were wide, too spent to argue or struggle.
“Up and over, by my hand, not yours.”
Peter was looking out over the rooftop when Charlie hooked his good arm around Peter’s neck and pulled them backward, falling hard onto the gravel roof, Peter crushing him.
Charlie gathered his waning strength and rolled on top.
Peter looked up and grinned.
Charlie held him down and shouted into his perfect face, “You did this to us. You brought the Game into our lives.”
“You should be thanking me,” Peter growled back. “You were nowhere. A ghost. I gave you something to fight for.”
Charlie smashed his fist into Peter’s face. His own vision blurred. How much blood had he lost?
Peter rolled on top, grinning, blood on his teeth. “I hate you. You know that, right? I never lied about being a liar. You haven’t known yourself a day in your life.” He struck Charlie, and the stars blurred. “We were brothers.”
“I’m not your brother,” Charlie spat.
“Yeah. How’s Daddy, by the way.” Peter grinned. “I made that mod, too. ‘Do you love your dad? Y/N?’ Nice save, by the way! The Game loved it. Personally, I was betting on the meth head.”
Rage exploded inside Charlie. He brought his good arm hard across Peter’s perfect face, knocking him aside. “You did that to me? To my dad?”
“I got Caitlyn, too. And Kurt, no one will ever want to look at him again. Life is bullshit, Charlie. There’s no fairness, no justice, unless we make it. Morality is an illusion, a social construct to hold back the masses while the hunters prey. When will you learn? When will you finally realize how wrong you are?”
Charlie did see it then. Peter was like the internet itself, a parentless creature, a trillion nodes connecting but nothing inside. Peter would never stop hurting people. There was only what he wanted and how to get it.
He put his hands around Charlie’s neck.
“It feels good, Charlie, being who you really are.”
Charlie managed to say, “I know. I was wrong.”
“Yeah?” Peter loosened his grip slightly to let Charlie speak. “About what?”
He met Peter’s eyes—those infinite, flawless blue eyes. “I thought you could be saved. You can’t.”
Peter’s hand closed around Charlie’s throat, and Charlie reached up, fingers through Peter’s golden hair, and pulled him down hard, banging his head onto the roof. His eyes dazed. Charlie rolled on top of Peter and looked over in time to see Alex moving to jump.
“No,” Charlie cried. He grabbed the back of Alex’s coat and pulled with all his might, and Alex felt the roof leave him and saw the empty void below spring forward, then stop, still far away, as Charlie used a strength he didn’t know he had to pull Alex back onto the roof, shoving him onto his knees toward the middle of the rooftop.
Alex was screaming, “No, no, no, no.” It was pure rage. “You can’t. I’m the hero. The Game will never stop.”
Charlie said, “Yes, it will. The Game is over for us.” He took Peter by the arms, pulling him up, still dazed. “And there are no heroes.”
With the last ounce of his strength, Charlie cast beautiful, lost Peter over the ledge.