When fiction cracked
The Gathering
To think, how something so chaotic and so disastrous as the destruction of the world of fiction, could begin in such a simple place, truly baffles the mind and soul of any reader, writer and speculator alike. It began with a room. A simple, single, solid room. Walls numbering 8, forming a large octagon, each wall tall and grey in hue, reaching and curvering in towering arcs that ended in a solitary spiked point in the epicenter of the roof, forming a dome over the shadowy area below. An eternal shroud, foreboding evil and events most foul, lingering in such a small, simple, dull room. It was in this room that the malevolence manifested, that chaos was distilled and forged, that a great tragedy began in, that would spread to crack the fabric of the world of fiction itself, splinter along it as it would break into weakness and deformity. In this room, was where It began to plot.
This plotting was for the distillation of the chaos It wanted to bring, the plan to split the membrane of the fictitious worlds, to crush everything it saw, felt and thought of, imagining this world burning, deteriorating, melting into obscurity and unrecognizability. That was all It wanted, to witness the very end of this world It existed in, a fact It cursed every moment of It's life. This dark and dingy dungeon, where despair and anguish lingered like fog after rain, was where the chaos began. And it began, with the resounding cry of a teen in distress.
"Wat da fack is this?!" came the mispronunciations of the pale skinned teen, decked from head to toe in black so dismal it matched the room to a T.
"Aww shit mayn, dis aint cul yo." came the even worse mispronunciations of the dark skinned boy, decked in clothes so casual you'd think he was at a party.
"Wha...whats going on..." came the quiet but understandable whisper of the young witch, decked in simple but dark attire.
The three figures, conjured up from the hellish pit of fiction from which they were spawned, observed the room around them, the former of the group shouting curses at nothing in particular, the boy mumbling some form of racist slang, and the girl just hobbling into a corner to be alone. The three had just been plucked from their own storylines, no rhyme, no reason, no understanding of even where they were, and most importantly, were irritated. Except the little one, who just appeared nervous. About five minutes after their arrival, It began to speak to them.
"Welcome, creations of fiction." It began. It's voice was indescribable, shifting in tone, in origin, in accent, making it impossible to truly understand what it was that spoke to them.
"Fcuking fuk! Hoo the fuk r yu?!" screeched the teen girl, looking around the room for the voice's owner, her anger making her pale face a touch more skin like in tone.
"You may call me the Orchestrator." the voice echoed around the room, coming from no clear direction. It was as if It was everywhere in that room, omnipresent but absent. "And I have summoned you here, Ebony, Turtle, Arianna." The three were taken aback as this unknown force or creature read their names. How could it know?
"yo you ain gut ship nuggih! com dwn ere n faec me!" Turtle said, flipping off the air around him, which Ebony promptly joined.
"What do you want with us?!" Arianna cried out, her adorable eyes filling with tears as she shivered.
"You three have been called here for a purpose. But I will not explain this until everyone has arrived. I detest repeating myself." the Orchestrator claimed, going silent as Its voice finished bouncing around the room. The three re-examined themselves, now knowing this thing knew who they were.
Ebony thought back to what had happened before this. She'd been jumping in front of a bullet in such a sexy manner, and now she was here…
"Is dis hlel?!" she shouted at the roof. "Cuz this scuks!" She'd been expecting something more kickass in hell than this dull, boring room. Sure it was dark and depressing, but it needed more pentagrams and coffins and posters of Jirard Way.
"so, who r you nigguhs anywa?" said the dark youth, leaning against one of the walls. Ebony looked like she'd popped a gasket as she strode over to the boy.
"You dnot' know meee?!" she screeched as she stomped over to him like she was on the verge of tantrum level rage. "I am Ebony Darkness Dementia Raven Way, da gretest goffick witch evr born!" she ground her teeth as she shouted at this stupid boy.
"yeh? mor liek bithc dan witcc, niggun." The boy replied, looking so laid back he wouldn't even care if he spontaneously dropped dead. Ebony's face was a burning crimson as she drew her wand and pointed it at the boy, who in turn drew a gun on her, naturally holding it sideways. They both stood there in a standoff, daring the other to strike first, as the younger of them just watched scared.
"Please, just stop!" she cried as her emotions bubbled inside, threatening to unleash her powerful but inconvenient abilities.
It was the appearance of another figure that stopped the two from fighting.
It was a man, a ways older than the three children in the room. His face looked rather blank with a beard around his chin, which spread up to his upper lip, forming a moustache. He wore a slate grey beanie cap over his head, hiding any traces of hair. His outfit was just more shades of grey as it went down, except his gloves and jacket which were brown and black respectively. On his shoulder, a lambda symbol adorned it in bright orange. As he spotted Turtle, he smiled unusually wide and pointed at it.
"Wepon!" he shouted and inexplicably flew over and snatched it right out of the boy's hand.
"u rassist cracka!" Turtle exclaimed, attempting to clock the man in the jaw, but he had already walked off, looking around the room.
"I need to find my brother and defeat the enemys." He rambled as he walked around the room.
"nuggih, I ain dun wit u!" Turtle shouted at him, but the man just kept walking, like he wasn't even there.
"John. If you will wait a moment, I will show you him." The voice of the Orchestrator resounded. John Freeman looked up and said
"Are you combines, from science and outer space?"
"No John, I am not." He assured, seeming to calm the wandering soldier as he stopped still and waited. The other three looked plum confused, and an argument between the two teens broke out again, this time the argument of the better musician. Ebony was pressing the case of Jirard Way, whilst Turtle argued for 50 cent. Whilst distracted, another figure spontaneously appeared. This one wasn't even human. He was humanoid in appearance, but he also looked like an animal. Yellow fur, spiky around his head and back, white gloves on his hands and blue and white shoes. There were odd red circles on his cheeks, and two pointed ears coming off the top of his head. He stood up, looking ready to jump and kick someone in the face.
"What's going on here?!" he exclaimed, glancing at the figures either bickering or attempting to walk through the wall. Arianna sprang on him like a tiger, clinging to him.
"Awww it's so cute!" she grinned as she squeezed the thing tight, much to his displeasure, wriggling in her grasp.
"L-leggo little one!" he insisted, not noticing another figure's appearance as Arianna slowly choked him, his eyes bulging in their sockets. The poor creature only just managed to wiggle free as Arianna frowned.
"How come you don't like me little guy?" she whimpered, rubbing those big, overly cute eyes of hers.
"You were huggin' me too hard." The yellow creature said, brushing himself down.
"But you're so cute!" she cried out as John Freeman half walked, half floated over.
"This thing is frum science and outer space!" John Freeman announced, poking the animal, who grunted in annoyance, not noticing another appearance in the dank chamber. This one wore an orange jumpsuit, some kind of strange white circular logo on the front, strange boots covering her feet, and armed with a strange white gun-like device. Like all the other girls in the room, she was beautiful beyond belief, but barely stood out in this truly glamorous crowd.
"Wheatly?!" she screeched as she arrived in unfamiliar territory, looking around the room and the various figures now dotting it, from the arguing teens to the girl squeezing the furry beast. "Were am i? Is dis anodder test Galdos!" she shouted demandingly at the ceiling.
"It is not a test, Marissa." The Orchestrator spoke up. "Be patient, and you shall have your answers." He assured, but Marissa was having none of it.
"Ill blast out of her!" she shouted and her arms crackled with electricity as she prepared to fire...but something stopped her. A feeling of oppression swept over her as the Orchestrator spoke again.
"I said, be patient." A hint of malice lingering in his indescribable voice. Marissa frowned and her body stopped crackling with her special powers, but that didn't stop her trying to escape, shooting her blue and orange portals all over the room for some form of escape. All it did was tick off Ebony when she found herself launched onto the floor by a stray portal.
"Fuk u!" she screamed at the jump suited woman, threateningly waving her wand as yet another figure appeared in the dark room, no surprise by this point.
She was dressed to be of royal importance, dress adorned with golden triangle symbols like some kind of fashion logo.
"L-l-link?" she mumbled, putting a hand on her stomach, looking around the room. The instant Ebony saw her, she was on her like a shot.
"OMG A FUKIN PREP! GTFO!" She screeched, must to the woman's surprise.
"Prep? What are you talking about?!"
"U! U lk lick suh a fukin prep! Yu suc!" she continued, looking ready to gut this woman who dared challenge her fashion sense. Jenna's eyes became as wide as saucers.
"How dare you insult such a royal dress!" she scowled at the gothic teen, both pairs of eyes glaring at each other, burning into their skulls. You could've smelt the burning, had you been there, Lord help you if you were.
And at last, the worst of the lot appeared, just upon his appearance, you could tell he was a bad man, who possibly once ruled an evil empire.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he cackled upon his appearance, looking around the dank room. "WAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! WHERE AM I?!" he bellowed as he witnessed the mayhem around him. Of course, being such a ruthless and maniacal tyrant, chaos was nothing new to him.
"Calm yourself Spadang. Now we are all gathered, I can begin." the Orchestrator's voice echoed around the room. But Spadang was having none of it.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP! IM IN CONTROL HEEERE! YOU OBEY ME!" he roared at the empty room. At his words, the atmosphere seemed to become denser, more oppressive, as Spadang noticeably shuddered.
"I said, I can begin." that sinister feeling crept up in his voice, as it even managed to silence Spadang, and the whole room at that, as they all looked toward the ceiling, for the source of the voice.
"So." he began. "As i'm sure you're all aware, you are all fictitious characters, created for the purpose of writing."
"Wlel duh!" Ebony grumbled, having a "dude you're so retarded" look on her face. The rest of them all held similar facial expressions.
"Is that all you brought us for? Kindly return us if-" Jenna began.
"But." The Orchestrator curtly cut her off. "Did you ever wonder what happens when your writer stops writing for you?" This took them all aback, as they pondered this question.
"We...just go on with our lives?" Arianna piped up, hopefully.
"I'm afraid not. When your writer stops, so do you." he said bluntly. The group looked surprised, Marissa even O faced at the revelation. "Without your writer, breathing life into you, you can do nothing. You cease to be." Arianna and Jenna looked gravely at each other, unsure of how to feel.
"Well my writer never stops! And she never will!" Marissa screeched like a banshee, confident in her words.
"You simple minded idiot. No writer can continue forever." The Orchestrator putting it as bluntly as before. "Whether it be their attention span, their life or their death, no writer can continue forever." Marissa O mouthed a second time and shrank back.
"but peple stll rember us!" Turtle argued. "we cn lve thru ther memrys."
"Yes. People are reading about my helping my tricked brother all the time." John Freeman added.
"Do you really want to live like that?" The Orchestrator questioned menacingly. "Living through nothing but your past endeavors? Reliving the same story over and over again? Is that the fate you wanted?"
"THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Spadang interrupted loudly. "I'M TOO POWERFUL FOR ANYONE TO WRITE ME! I CAN LIVE FOREVUR!" he claimed.
"I can too!" Sonichu chipped in, before the entire room was ringing with similar cries, every character fighting for their right to exist. The Orchestrator went silent for a moment, perhaps in defeat...
That was when they appeared in front of the characters of fan fiction. Bright square screens, each with a specific quote upon them. Upon reading each one, the characters calmed down, went quiet, and looked incredibly grave.
"As you can see, most of you have already stopped being written, or have been killed off. How hot was the lava in that volcano Spadang?" he mocked the mighty baddie, who growled and glared at the nothingness surrounding them. "Those of you, who have not succumbed to death, are nearing the end of your stories anyway. There is nowhere left for you to go by your writers whims."
"wats yur fuckin pint u poser!" Ebony screeched, looking ready to cry from this shocking reveal.
"yeh, wt du u wnt u nuggih!" hollered Turtle.
"My point is, I'm giving you the chance to change your fates. With my power, I can emancipate you from your fictional boundaries. I can offer you the power to forge your own destinies, live outside the hands of a writer. With my help, you can become more than just fan fiction characters. You can reign over fiction itself." His words sliced through the heady atmosphere like a knife, as each character turned the idea over in their heads. Silence that seemed impossible for such loud characters, remained for several minutes as the offer was considered, weighed, deconstructed and thought over by each figure in that dark room. "And you're not alone. Each of you can have followers by the handful, enough to conquer any world of your choosing." Each one of them now bore a smile of some sort, ranging from sly smirks to mad grins as they all seemed ready to accept the mysterious offers "So, who wants to control their destiny?"
A chorus of voices rose up from the room, as each and every one of those fan fiction idols agreed to the voice's plan.
"NOW GIVE ME THIS POWER!" shouted Spadang, his composure returning absurdly quickly.
"Yeah, lets go and zap to the extreme!" cried Sonichu.
"Very well then. I shall send each of you back. Use these gifts I grant you, and control your lives." As the Orchestrator spoke, the room began to empty, each figure taken back to their own individual world to begin his plans. Now alone, the voice laughed, a slow monotonous chuckle that echoed around the empty room. "And so it begins…let the cracks form."