Chapter 3: Cosplay, A Million and One Uses

"Why am I doing this?" Alexander asked in an annoyed tone.
"You're doing this because you owe me big for helping smuggle that gear of yours into this Alcatraz." he said while thinking 'Thank God I didn't have to keester stash!'

"Not good enough, why?"
"My dear father, did you know I could get at least 30 years for even holding a single piece of that pistol you made me sneak in here? Still, a suppressed Glock 18, I'm actually impressed. How the hell did you get that into Japan?"
"I know people who know people…who know people serving life sentences."
"Ahahaha, that's the way!" He smiled wide and patted him on the back, "Still, don't feel so embarrassed about this. You should read the novels that this character comes from. He's a lot like you. Intellectual, paranoid, stoic..."

Scott continued on for the next five minutes describing the character, novels, and setting that was the inspiration for the costume. This common tendency of his annoyed Alexander, but he put up with it. If only Scott knew just how close the real world was to the settings he described so passionately...He might accept it. If his father was the one telling him, he'd probably accept it. But what if he was wrong? Would his son call him crazy? Would he think it a cruel joke? The consequences of a mistaken judgment on this were too much to accept. So, he stayed silent about the truths he had witnessed firsthand, no matter how much it pained him to do so.

"How do you keep all this stuff in your head anyway?"
Scott crossed his arms in front of himself "Awesomeness," he balled his fists in front of his face then threw them to his waist as he assumed an epic pose, "is the ultimate mnemonic device!"
"Would that you were this passionate about your studies."
"I get A's and B's, so can it. Besides, all of these 'fantasies' matter more than you think they do. Fiction and philosophy are essentially the same, and they're just about as influential when it comes to our daily lives. Now, let's go outside. We need some good backgrounds."

The outfit consisted of a heavy brown overcoat with green shoulder armor, a studded leather cuirass made from used belts, another thicker belt with an imprinted golden buckle at his waist, heavy duty black jeans and knee high leather boots. It was also rather ornate, fake gold trimmings, tassels, chains, seals, engravings, and even books and scroll containers (which were also overloaded with frivolous decorations). Such an outfit could only be imagined and constructed by individuals suffering from neurosis. Well, at least they're not burning down buildings…

After Scott had taken enough pictures to satisfy himself and his various friends he demanded they spent the next few hours together enjoying the sights, sounds, and events of the festival. It was such a strange and over the top thing, cosplay contests, martial arts tournaments, fine food and alcohol, most anybody could find something to enjoy here, which is why it brought in so much money. Scott wouldn't let him change while he was with him though. He insisted that he stay in costume so that others could view the hard work that he and his friends had put into it. It wasn't like other people weren't walking around in similarly outlandish outfits, so people didn't leer at him or think him out of the ordinary. Some even went so far as to compliment him on his costume. They spent their day enjoying the sights and sounds of the festival. They both had a very good time as a result, it would always be a happy memory for them both.

As the sun began to set he told Scott it was time and headed straight for library island. He didn't bother to change, as he'd already stored everything he could possibly need in that costume.

"Tacitus always said the final refuge of crime was in audacity. Bastard's never steered me wrong yet, so here I go." he thought.

The library expedition club wasn't that large compared to the most popular ones and in fact kept a lot of its materiel secret. However, they had also scanned their records into a server in order to efficiently disseminate them to their members. Only high school and university level members could access the maps to the restricted sections, a precaution meant to ensure that younger members did not attempt to go into the deeper parts and get into situations they likely couldn't handle. Fortunately for Alexander, their mainframe wasn't all that secure. Honestly, it didn't have to be. It's purpose was simply to serve as a repository of the clubs gathered knowledge of the complex (which was sadly incomplete) as well as provide a record of the most interesting stories that members had to tell about their adventures. Such information was desired by few people outside the club and its members had few if any true enemies. In other words, not much ICE, easy hackin'.

The records he retrieved included a 'treasure' map as well as information on a secret entrance that not even the administration was privy too. This wasn't good, for the few times in his life where everything fell into place always ended badly. Women, research, or even a sale on top shelf liquor. All eventually ended in bad memories, terrifying discoveries, or both. Yet he wasn't about to turn back now. The answers he sought were here he was sure of it.

"This is the 'secret' entrance?" He thought to himself, There was an elevator that didn't want to work, and a large double door. "Pretty obvious for something that's supposed to be secret."

Alexander took a deep breath and opened the secret passage into the hidden depths of the library.

What awaited him beyond those great doors was an alien world conceivable only to the mangakas and authors that Scott adored. Bookshelves dominated the landscape, but they were the somehow the most normal feature. Plateaus, rivers, waterfalls, islands...If one could imagine the world itself transformed into a library, they could begin to imagine what Alexander saw before him. The deeper he journeyed, the more dangerous it became. At first he only waded through shallow waters and walked atop bookshelves of average height. Later on he ran through corridors that belonged on starships, rappelled down sheer waterfalls leading to mysteriously shallow lakes, and walked atop shelves so tall that even his expensive and blindingly bright flashlight was unable to reveal the floor they certainly stood upon. His son was correct, these restricted sections were indeed packed with rare folios and texts long thought lost to history. Did this place hold the lost texts of Aristotle that were praised so highly by the ancient thinkers? The schematics of Heron tragically lost in fires of Alexandria? Perhaps, but what he sought was forbidden and truly unknown, not merely forgotten.

At the end of the map, at the base of a bookshelf that consumed the last of his paracord, he stood before a passage so small that most men could not hope to enter it. Thankfully, his unusual characteristics served him well here. Though he worked out, his arms never bulged. Though he ate of fattening foods, he never put on the pounds he was supposed to. Though he was certainly middle aged, his size was more suited to a man much younger and sedentary than himself. In other words, he was small, and thus could fit into the spaces, barely fit into it mind you, but fit. He was starting to get a headache, but this time he was very happy about it.

"Good, I must be getting close to whatever it is they don't want me to see."

After about 10 minutes of crawling he came across a tile outlined in light. He pushed on it and it gave way. He crawled out of that claustrophobic corridor and into a great hall. Before him were two humongous statues. They were obviously knights, one armed with a sword, the other with a hammer. Both were kneeling down, facing a book that lied between them. Then a wave of unbearable pain wracked his skull. His head throbbed so hard he thought it was going to explode.

He fell to his knees and chugged his emergency flask. He always carried two, the normal one only contained Sake. This one, however, contained 190 proof booze. After chugging down half of it the pain subsided. He was sure if it now, though he only suspected it before. Every time he got one of those headaches, something was trying to alter his mind. Was it trying to make him forget? To run away? Memories of incantations muttered, of bright light, of horrible pain flooded into his memory. Was this the same thing? Was this the final trap? It had to be. Yet somehow, for some mysterious reason, he was completely immune to such things.

"Why, why have I been given this gift? Why am I immune?" He thought to himself. He felt a bit woozy, but he could function. He stood up.

"It will take more than that to defeat me sorcerer! Reveal yourself!" he drew his firearm. "I will not falter! If you wish to stop me you will have to kill me! At least make this an honorable duel and show me your face you bastard!"

He made sure to show his emotions. He was angry…and desperate.

But there was no answer. He looked around, but only bookshelves, statues, a bridge over an abyss, and an open book upon a pedestal revealed themselves to his eyes. There was nowhere to hide. He was alone.

"So this was the final trap? A powerful psychic assault of some kind? Clever, I expected camera turrets, claymores, or perhaps a giant boulder." he thought. There was no turning back now. His truth lay before him, that book probably held it. He need only walk across the bridge and grasp it in his hand. He was about halfway across when the bridge opened up and surrendered him to the merciless forces of gravity. He threw his grappling hook, but it clanked inches short of the edge of the bridge length trap door. Damnit! He'd pulled that maneuver off several times before…the booze. To get over the debilitating pain this chamber induced, he had to exchange motor function and reaction time. Clever little whores, they thought of everything. He fell into the darkness, certain that his demise await him at the bottom. He closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

"I'm sorry Scott. I'm so sorry." For one of the few times in his life, tears welled up in his eyes of their own accord. It was his only regret, that because of this selfish adventure his adopted son would once again be left without a father. Once again, he would be alone. His tears were now flowing like rivers as he plunged into oblivion. They formed a stream of droplets above him as he fell into the darkness.

Well, here's another chapter. I actually got a few more on my hard drive. I'll put them up when I feels like it :P