Chapter 4: Party by Myself

— 11 —

Bloop.

Yep. That was not!Skype acting up. Coulda sworn I was offline. Oh well.

I put down my weights and took a large drink of water from my oversized container before walking over to my computer. My biceps burned with the flame of a thousand suns, sort of like the feeling of binge drinking hot sauce, only if my stomach was located in my arms.

Rubbing myself down with a towel, I looked over the message.

It was from Tin_Mother, one of the big mods on Parahumans Online.

Dear XxVoid_CowboyxX,

As per our conversation dated February 19th, 2009, I am offering you the badge of Slightly Less of a Dick Now. The condition for this was that you would go a full 3 months at some point without earning an infraction, something which at the time I considered marginally less likely than hell freezing over. I hope you continue to maintain a clean record.

Your friendly administrator,

Tin_Mother

P.S. I made a whole brand new badge just for you. Click the link to accept it. And I guess you can hide it from public view like a normal badge—if you just want to let all of my hard work go to waste, that is.

On the one hand, I felt kinda bad, since I was pretty sure that had I spent a wee bit more time online I might well have gathered me up a storm of infractions by now. On the other hand, it was sort of like I just got rewarded for doing nothing! That's the way life should work.

After a moment, I clicked that link and basked in the glory of my shiny new badge.

XxVoid_CowboyxX (Slightly Less of a Dick Now)

Everything felt right in the word.

I sat back and wondered what the whole world would be like if it was like this all the time. Lord knows I might not have to work out as hard just to keep my rockin' bode.

A minute or so later I got a bloop from Winged_One.

Winged_One: Congratulations!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: What?

Winged_One: Your new badge!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Are you stalking me?

Winged_One: Haha

Winged_One: Well not this time ;)

She shot me a link to a PHO thread.

Topic: Congratulations XxVoid_CowboyxX

In: Boards ► Official Announcements

Tin_Mother (Original Poster) (Site Administrator) (Benevolent Overlord)

Posted on August 13th, 2010:

Congratulations to long-time member XxVoid_CowboyxX for earning one of this site's very few unique/custom badges! He managed to go a whole three consecutive months without an infraction. For this frankly herculean task (as far as XxVoid_CowboyxX goes), he was been awarded the (Slightly Less of a Dick) badge, which he now wears with pride. As I type this, I am eating my hat.

In other news, Hell, Michigan froze over in what is no doubt one of the Simurgh's dastardly plots.

What followed were the rest of the site admins plus most all of the major mods congratulating me. After that began all the big-time important site users with their badges and tons of rep. The whole thing read like one big who's who of Parahumans Online.

I messaged Winged_One back.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: I don't know whether to be honored or mortified.

Winged_One: Oh, who are you kidding? You love the attention~

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Yeah, I do…

So I typed a short acceptance speech thanking everyone for being awesome, Tin_Mother for her work, and a special thanks to the Simurgh for giving me this chance.

I watched as my post was threadmarked and earned a shitton of likes.

Winged_One pinged me.

Winged_One: Hmm… I was actually planning to ask you something before this happened

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Hmm?

Winged_One: I don't suppose you feel like going out tonight? That is, outside, rather than staying inside and basking in your newfound internet fame.

Winged_One: I don't want to impose or anything or, um, that sorta thing, Cowboy. Just…

XxVoid_CowboyxX: What did you have in mind?

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Honestly I didn't even know my computer was turned on today.

Winged_One: !

Winged_One: Well, there's a few kids from school having a party. It's sorta near you, I think, and I was wanting to go. But I don't really know anyone there.

Winged_One: I might have seen one or two of them before, but we've never really talked.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: You're kind of shy IRL, ain'tcha?

Winged_One: Pfft.

Winged_One: I'm a total queen. Everyone wants my autograph. Even got my own fan club!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: ...

Winged_One: Okay, fine. I don't talk to people much.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: So, wanna meet the big, strong, sexeh guy you've been talking to these last few months?

Winged_One: I'd rather just meet you, if that's alright.

Winged_One: Plus, I recall you only started working out big time around when we met, Mister Cowboy!

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Hahaha look who has a better memory than a goldfish!

Winged_One: ...

XxVoid_CowboyxX: :)

She sent me a house address link on Boggle Maps. It was basically a clone of Google Maps for this world, but with a shittier interface. Hey Wormverse, Windows XP was like a decade ago! Everything aside from PHO and a few other websites seemed just slightly out of date to me. Seriously, the Wormverse didn't even get Windows 95 until 2003. And even then—HOLY FUCKING SHIT!

Brockton Bay was in New Hampshire.

I sat back in my chair and just blinked.

Then I spun around for good measure.

I almost failed to notice a good few minutes had passed, and Winged_One had messaged me again.

Winged_One: Hello?

I got my head back on and replied.

XxVoid_CowboyxX: Yeah, I'll be there. What time?

Winged_One: 8pm

I looked at the clock. It was just shy of noon.

[INDENT]XxVoid_CowboyxX: Perfect. Look for the guy who just screams /fit/izen Kane and is wearing a red bandana, k?

Winged_One: K![/INDENT]

I logged out of PHO and Not!Skype.

— 12 —

As the sun was heading down, I came upon the house. The dwelling appeared large, clearly belonging to someone with money to spare—really, it was a small mansion. Though by Brockton Bay standards, it didn't take much to be considered "relatively nice". I dressed myself in the same threads I'd worn to Bitch's, sans most of the weapons. I had a knife sheathed at my belt and a can of mace in a pocket, though. And for the party's tariff, a bottle of whiskey.

But more important, the house was at the bottom of a slightly incline. I wheeled down the hill on my heelys, like it weren't no thang. My leather duster danced in the wind.

Few people seemed to notice me roll up to the front lawn and casually stroll on into the house. None dared oppose me.

I squared my hat and opened the door.

The music hit me first: chill, more of a background noise than hardcore in-your-face. Also, it sucked.

I looked around and saw all my fellow teenagers milling, doing nothing at all. Sure, there were nice gents, hunnies, and everywhere in between, but they were are all so dead in the water.

It was up to me to fix this, starting with the music. I would become the hero this party need, if not the one it wanted.

And besides, I didn't want Winged_One to show up to a dead party if I could help it.

"Hey, you there," someone called out. He was tall, with red hair, and carried a very vague Australian accent. "Welcome to the party, mate. I know you?"

"No," I said, and handed him the bagged bottle of whiskey. "But you know our mutual friend Jack."

He cocked a brow, but nodded. "Make yourself at home. There's a table in the den where we're putting all the good stuff. Mind getting it there yourself? It's over that way." The boy offered me a fist and I bumped it. "Oh, and I like the hat." He pantomimed tipping a hat before going on.

The next track hit, and it was far more danceable. I reckoned there was no need to fix it. So, after looking around for a girl who matched my mental image of Winged_One (either a really shy teen or an morbidly obese dame with green hair), I decided it best to pass the time by wandering the house.

None of these people seemed familiar to me. I mean, granted, I hadn't really been socializing this summer. Plus, they didn't seem like the kind who went to Winslow High, or who I might have known from the neighborhood.

I rounded a corner and entered a sort of den in view of a kitchen. A comely black girl sat on the couch by herself, looking bored, her eyes lazily looking over the odd few people standing around and drinking. Her eyes flashed over to me.

"The fuck happened to your face?" she asked.

She was, of course, referring to my lingering bruise from Bitch's fist. With a shrug, I said, "Bitch."

The girl's eyes narrowed, her body tensing as if to jump off. "The fuck you call me?"

I rolled my eyes. "I was referring to Hellhound."

She settled back down onto the couch slightly.

"I picked up a stray dog last week," I said. "Turned out it belonged to her, and she was far from pleased."

"Right," she intoned. "Because getting beaten up by a supervillain is so cool."

"Mayhap. Hence why I tracked her down to her lair and challenged her to a rematch for the dog back. I reckon that's because I'm a Southerner more than anything. Where I'm from, if you disrespect me, I'm pretty much required to go whoop some respect into ya, cape or not."

Was that a ghost of respect in her eyes? She nodded and asked, "And so how'd that all go for you?"

Smiling, I replied, "Well, there's always round three."

The girl laughed.

Figuring nothing else to do, I sat down next to her, and she again looked offended.

"Who said you could sit next to me?" she asked in a voice of a total bitch.

"Jack Daniels," I said, holding up the bottle. I opened the bottle and took a swig.

She put her hand on the bottle and I let her drink herself. The girl gagged a bit but quickly tried put on a cool face.

"Not as good with liquor as you'd like, lass?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm not your mom," she replied. As if to spite me, she took another clear gulp, and held herself this time. I snapped my fingers, got her attention, and took the bottle. I doubled up on her previous drink.

"You got a name?" I asked.

"Does it matter?"

I shook my head.

She took another drink. I noticed it was a lot less than she had the other times, though with more flourish, as if trying to convince me she was a big drinker. "And how you'd get suckered into a place like this?"

"I was supposed to meet a girl here. Don't know what she looks like, though."

She gave me a curious look. "How's that work?"

"Met online."

"You sure it's a girl?" she asked, passing me the bottle.

"Girls got a way of talking. Translates startlingly well into IMing," I replied, shaking the bottle and watching the liqueur dance around. "She was supposed to meet ol' Void Cowboy here, since she invited me."

The girl gave me a weird look. Then she burst out laughing. "'Void Cowboy'? That's your name?"

I nodded.

"As in, 'slightly less of a dick now' Void Cowboy?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, overdoing my Southern drawl.

"Holy shit," she laughed. "Here I am drinking with a genuine celebrity."

"That so?"

"I use PHO," she replied with a shrug. "And links to the post about your new badge are now the official site banner, right under the name."

"Yeah?"

She elbowed me as she pulled out her phone and went to the PHO website. There it was, under the Parahumans Online official logo was a banner that read "Congratulations XxVoid_CowboyxX: Slightly Less of a Dick Now". She tapped the banner and it took us to the announcement page, which now had almost twenty pages of comments.

The girl slapped me on the back as she put the phone away. She was still laughing when a decidedly hot redhead showed up to the couch.

"Sophia! Did you make a new friend?" she asked with a smile, putting a hand on her hip. "I told you coming here wouldn't be a waste of time."

I blinked.

Sophia? The black girl was named Sophia, and she more than fit the image I'd had of Shadow Stalker, the borderline crazy parahuman obsessed with dominance.

That meant the comely redhead was Emma Barnes.

I was making nice with the girls would would ruin Taylor's life so hard that she would trigger, setting the whole book in motion. It took effort to not look dumb when Sophia spoke up.

"Oh, sit down and drink. You're in the presence of a legit legend."

Emma cocked a brow. "Care to explain?"

"Nope," Sophia said, shaking her head.

The redhead shrugged and eyed us both. There was hardly enough room on the couch, and she made do by squeezing in between us. It was a rather tight fit. Almost without thinking, I put an arm around her waist and set her up on my lap.

Emma got cozy, then reached for the Jack. After taking a drink (and shuddering), she asked, "So, mister legend, you got a name?"

"Greg Veder," I replied in full.

She spat out the Tennessee whiskey and scrambled off my lap almost like an epileptic hamster caught in the wind. Emma landed on the floor. "Wait, what?!"

Sophia burst out laughing.

"There's no way you're Greg Veder!" Emma accused, getting to her feet. Miraculously, she hadn't spilled my whiskey during the fall.

I took the bottle from her and chased a drink. "Too bad," I said, eying her up and down. "You're still the same Emma Barnes."

"But you're so… un-Greg!" Emma tried, almost uselessly.

"I'll say," Sophia added, taking the bottle from me.

The redhead looked to her friend, then to me, almost appraisingly.

"You know he got in a fistfight with a cape, right?" Sophia said, and drank some more. "Twice."

"Bullshit," she said.

"No, it's true alright," Sophia said, examining her nails. "And if he says he's Greg, then it's Greg. Although, it is sort of strange, y'know?"

Emma looked confused.

Sophia went on. "One day he's a dweeb, and the next he's walking around like a cowboy and sporting a huge bruise on his face like it's nothing. Not to mention talking to girls and not being a total creep."

After a moment, Emma gave Sophia a slow, almost knowing nod.

"Something I'm missing, ladies?" I asked.

Sophia shot me a look. "It's not like it's hard to figure out, and that was before you said you were getting into fights with supervillains. Ain't that right, Void Cowboy?"

I cocked a brow but said nothing. Just what was she getting at?

Emma winked at me. "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone. But she's right; you want to learn some subtlety before school starts."

I offered her a puzzled look, but that quickly died when she sat back down on my lap. It took her a moment to get comfy again. She looked at me and offered an almost apologetic smile. "So, um. Hi?"

I grunted a "Howdy."

"Really take the whole thing seriously, huh?" Emma asked.

"Aye, say true and thankee, sai," I offered her.

The two girls exchanged a look. With a sigh and a smile, Emma said, "You know, I can totally see how this is still Greg. Least a little." She looked to me, made a little laughing noise, and reached out and took the whisky from Sophia. Emma took a good swig or two with a smile.

"Hey, Emma," Sophia said. "Whatever happened to that guy you were with before?"

Emma shrugged, examining the bottle. "I got bored. Told him to hold my beer. How long do you think he stands there before he figures out I'm not coming back?"

Sophia laughed. "Right. Well. Gonna go get some beer, now that you reminded me."

Emma frowned. "Why?"

"Liquor before beer, you're in the clear," I said. "Beer before liquor, never been sicker."

Emma suddenly looked at the bottle in her hands and took on a deeply concerned expression.

Sophia stood up and slapped her girlfriend on the back. "Yeah, he's got it. You two have fun while I go find a keg, okay?" She winked. "Promise to bring you something back." And with that, she walked off into the kitchen, and disappeared in a group of partygoers.

"Y'know," I said, " the other seat's open if you want it."

Emma looked at me with a pout. "Tired of me already? And I just got comfy."

"It's more that I'm actually here to meet a friend of mine, and I doubt she'd be pleased to see me with another girl on my lap."

"She's not here now though, is she?" Emma asked with a conspiratorial smile.

I looked around as if to make a point.

Her smile didn't die. "So, who even is this other girl you're waiting for? She's gotta be pretty special to make you say no to this." Emma wiggled around on my lap.

With a grin, I said, "Now you're just trying to get me in trouble."

"So what if I am?" she asked with a shrug. "Maybe she's not even coming." Emma looked around the room, as if making sure no one could hear her. "I can't see many guys giving up a girl on their lap now for one who might show up later. I won't tell, and Sophia can keep a secret." She winked.

I gave her a long, even look. "Got you a phone and a number?" The way I saw it, if she really was into me, I won. If not, well, I had her number, and could use that to no end of evil. After all, with a phone number, I could find her address. And on an unrelated matter, so could a molotov cocktail.

Emma smiled and pulled out a smartphone with a very fluffy case. We exchanged numbers, and I dialed her just to make sure it was the real McCoy. She tapped accept and put it up to her ear. "Hi, you've reached the phone of Emma Barnes. I can't pick up right now because I'm currently giving a lapdance to some random guy at a party. Please leave your message after the—"

A harsh wail rose up from the distance, a loud "wa" sound like a distorted baby's cry. Sirens. The smile on Emma's face faded as she slowly lowered the phone, whatever words she had dying in her throat.

For a moment, I was nine years old again, at the outskirts of St. Paul/Minneapolis, listening to the roaring sirens as I eyed a forming tornado ready to destroy Minnesota's biggest urban centers. These were the exact same sound, but they meant something totally different. Something worse than a scary tornado that, in the end, did no damage to the Twin Cities.

These sirens meant Endbringer, and everyone knew it.

a/n: Man, formatting things on this site is really frustrating. There's no support for indents and other tricks I use o distinguish texts and PHO posts from regular words. I just have to abuse the poor italics.