Chapter Sixteen

The President of SANG

As soon as Mr. Ainsworth had returned to the internet, he went to Portia's office within the abandoned blog and informed her of the results of his mission. Portia listened carefully while her secretary, a little green alien with many eyes, jotted down the details for future reference. When Mr. Ainsworth had finished, Portia looked thoughtful.

"So, the paddles adapted well to the loss of their game?"

"Shockingly well," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Sickeningly well. You should have let me kill them."

"You know why I couldn't allow that," said Portia. "But you have done well, very well. How much will it cost us to obtain one of those electrical pulse devices?"

"I've the only one of its caliber," said Mr. Ainsworth, "and I'm not giving it up."

Portia gestured to the secretary to stop writing. Facing Mr. Ainsworth, she said: "How's this?"

"Seems to me I'm the only one as knows how to use the thing," he said, "and you need me to get in. So hon, I'm going to join your little posse and shut down this here arcade with you."

"I wouldn't object," said Portia.

"Course, I've a new fee to ask."

"Yes?"

"I hate to leave a job unfinished," said Mr. Ainsworth. "Those paddles have moved into a game called Sugar Rush. Let me deal with them, that game, and everyone living in it however I choose."

"Done," said Portia.

"Wow!" Mr. Ainsworth exclaimed. "You didn't even give that a second thought did you, you wicked little child."

"Firstly," said Portia, "you're one to talk about wickedness." She raised her hand into the air and bent her fingers inward. Mr. Ainsworth felt himself pulled into the air by an invisible grasp around his throat. He reflexively reached for his neck, struggling to breathe.

"Secondly, though I'm a kid, I'd suggest you watch your tongue around me. I was programmed as a telekinetic prodigy, mind you."

She lowered her hand, dropping Mr. Ainsworth to the ground. The mercenary climbed to his feet, rubbing his neck gently and breathing heavily.

"And lastly," said Portia, "Don't make any Darth Vader jokes."

"Got it, hon," said Mr. Ainsworth, grinning.

"And one more thing I forgot," said Portia. "Stop calling me 'hon'".

"As you wish, little lady," said Mr. Ainsworth, grinning once more. "I take it we've got a bargain then?"

"We have," said Portia. "Sugar Rush is yours, and everyone in it, as well as those paddles."

"It's a pleasure doing business with you," said Mr. Ainsworth, backing towards the door of the office, "I trust you won't regret it yourself."

"You've lived up to your reputation so far," said Portia. "I hope that continues."

Mr. Ainsworth tipped his hat and left the office. Moments later, at another gesture from Portia, the secretary packed away the notes that he had just taken and exited through another door.

When she was alone, Portia's hand began to gravitate towards her own throat. Reaching into her tunic, she tugged at the end of a cord that hung about her neck. The end slid out of her shirt, and she looked long and hard at the carved wooden emblem on the end of it.

The symbol of her family.

Family- yes, I had one in my game. A father and a mother. Died in the cutscenes partway in. And an older brother who was the hero.

She knew those cutscenes well, and the dialogue from one came back to her mind instantly.
"Be proud of who you are now, my daughter," her father would say in one of the most blandly written scenes of parental affection in the history of video games. "You are perfect the way you are."

Portia shook her head. Stupidly written, but I had to believe it in the game- after a while. First came the angst. Because, as we all know, true art is angsty. Thank you TV Tropes.

But really, what antiquated notions! Of course, it was an antiquated game. But the characters could have escaped it with me. None of them would. Too suspicious of this new world. Idiots. They should have known it was time to improve who we were, to adapt to the future.

Ah, if only they could have seen the wonders I've seen, done the things I've done. Traveling through the Wayback Machine, improving my diction with the likes of Joseph Ducreux…

Portia slid the carving back into her tunic. She would continue to keep it there, a reminder of where she had come from, and how far she had evolved. In the meantime, it was time to summon another meeting of SANG. Time to plan the ultimate demise of Litwak's Arcade.

She flipped a switch on the desk, activating an intercom built into its frame.

"This is the President of SANG," she said. "Assemble the council."

She switched the intercom off and then rang a small bell. The multi-eyed alien secretary raced back into the office.

"Carl, the paperwork," said Portia. "There's going to be a meeting."

"Right away, Madame President!" The secretary hurried back out of the room and then returned with a bundle of papers which he set on the desk. Dismissing the secretary, Portia picked up the bundle and tucked it under her arm. Then, with a smile of satisfaction, she headed for the door, and then to the elevator that would take her to the "About Me" section of the blog.