Prologue, IV.
Phantasm
Chapter IV: Cloak and Daggers
"Whoever wishes to keep a secret must hide the fact that he possesses one."
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Zuri Cartier
Board Member
If there was one thing in the entire world that Zuri refused to give up—besides poached lobster and spontaneous getaways to the Bahamas—it was shopping.
There was just something so cathartic about walking into the nearest boutique, a wallet filled to the brim with countless credit cards that Zuri didn't even have to worry about paying off, and buying whatever she liked in every single print and colour.
Sometimes, she would hit the same boutique over and over, to the point that people knew her by name and gave her their undivided attention in the hopes of a handsome tip—and Zuri was most certainly not a cheapskate—giving at least fifty percent.
But that was because money was frivolous to her.
Not when it wasn't even her own.
Zuri smiled dopily at her screen, scrolling mindlessly through instagram as she exited the store. Her latest haul hung from her arms. In the back of her mind, she barely remembered the total, immediately distracted as cat videos began to appear.
Manhattan buzzed all around her as she stored up against the sidewalk, half-paying attention to the street. Tourists and Wall Street traders meandered around her. The occasional tourist stopped to ask for a selfie, mistaking her for Kim Kardashian (it happened a lot).
Zuri simply had that celebrity aura—dominant, important, grandiose.
The cute video of a cat playing with a ball of yarn was rudely interrupted by the incoming video call.
"What's up, Clarence? You know it's my day off so I know this must be a social call." Zuri smiled sweetly.
There was a pause. Zuri looked curiously as she tried to assess the background. "Where are you?"
The curiosity turned to one of genuine confusion, "I've literally just finished shopping in DVF. She had this cute jacket that I just had to get and it came in so many different colours and—"
"—Zuri, um. Did you forget?"
"Forget what?"
"The board meeting…"Clarence grimaced, "It started about twenty minutes ago. You know, the meeting about launching Dreamscape?"
Zuri gasped, almost dropping her Chanel handbag. "Oh—my— Mother Teresa. I totally forgot! Clarence, I am so sorry! I—"
"Zuri, Zuri! It's okay!"
"No, it isn't!" Mallory's voice beckoned from somewhere behind the camera. Clarence smiled nervously, trying to side-step away as the phone was snatched from his hand. There was a fumble as Mallory's face came into view: so clear, so stern. "You need to hurry up. Our lives don't revolve around you."
"I said I was sorry…" Zuri mumbled, trying to shift her eyes away from Mallory's sharp, hazel stare.
"Are you going to make it in the next twenty minutes?" Mallory asked. There was some mumbling—she heard her name mentioned twice, enough to form a pit in her stomach—before Mallory huffed, stealing her attention. "Well?"
"I am so far away from the office…" Zuri bit her bottom lip, "And there's so much traffic."
"We're in Manhattan. There's always traffic. Do you not take these things into consideration?"
"Mallory, calm down—"
"I have things I need to do today too, Clarence. Stop babying the baby."
The phone moved again—Zuri was nervously and quickly looking for a cab to no avail. Clarence's much nicer face reappeared.
"Hey! Ignore her. It's absolutely fine. I'm going to put you on speaker and I just want you to announce your position."
"Okay," Zuri said quietly, "Thank you. After this, I'll head back in and buy you a pashmina to say sorry."
Clarence laughed, "You're on speaker now. What is your position on launching Dreamscape to the public within the next week?"
Zuri cleared her throat, "I vote yes, duh!"
"Thank you, Zuri," Clarence smiled, "Try and come in as quickly as you can though to sign the paperwork."
"I have to buy you a pashmina first!"
She ended the call promptly, only noticing her inbox ping in the top right corner. She didn't think anything of it as she opened up the suspiciously named email—eyes widening as she quickly deleted it, took a moment to gather her thoughts and steady the sharp spike in her heartbeat, and headed back into DVF.
Esme St. Cloud
Co-Founder
The meeting had been more interesting than Esme had anticipated.
Despite Clarence's vehement denial in 'boomgate' being a problem—and aforementioned failure in burying the secret as, apparently, the whole board knew regardless—Dreamscape somehow made it through to launch… against Esme's wishes and voting.
It was only a matter of time before she would have to face the music.
Esme waited patiently in the office she shared with Clarence, eyes flickering between the doorway and Grace nervously stood in the corner. Every time their eyes met, Grace looked away guiltily.
"Will you stop that? You're making me nervous," Esme mumbled, perched on the edge of her desk.
Grace shook her head apologetically, "Sorry… I just don't think he was expecting it."
"That's because my brother lives in his own world and despite my constant attempts to bring him into reality, it just never seems to work."
"It only just got through—"
"—It shouldn't have gotten through at all," Esme interjected, "We are not ready. He says that the exploding child was simply a glitch in the system but every report I have read has no information on it whatsoever."
Grace kept her arms crossed her chest—Esme knew she did that when she held bad news on her tongue. She looked just as unsettled on the day she broke the news of their father passing as she did now.
"Grace? What are you not telling me?"
"I—"
"Hello Judas," Clarence interrupted as he breezed into the office, refusing to meet Esme's eye. He crossed the room to his desk, yanking drawers open in a search for something. "I noticed your hands are empty of more knives to jam into my back. Come to find a pencil instead?"
Esme rolled her eyes, "Don't be so dramatic. I've told you countless times why I'm not voting for it. It's not my fault that you are still so surprised."
Clarence looked up sharply, "We're meant to be a team but you tried to throw me to the wolves."
"Get over yourself—"
"—Grace, please leave—"
"—Grace, stay—" Esme stood up straight, "Why do you want her to go?"
"She shouldn't have to listen to us bickering."
Esme scoffed, "She has heard much worse. Haven't you, Grace?"
Torn between both, Grace stayed silent, clutching at the mountain of files in her arms. A small part of Esme felt bad for purposely, knowingly, keeping Grace in the midst of a fight. But something was itching away at her. A niggle that couldn't be sated until she had an answer.
"Well?" Esme asked again, looking between the two, "Before you walked in, Grace was about to tell me something."
Clarence wasn't fazed—he put his eyes back to his drawers, fumbling around, "I don't know what you mean."
"Guilty words, Clarence!" Esme almost shouted, "Guilty fucking words. What are you not telling me?"
"Why do you care?" Clarence shot back, "You clearly don't want to support this project. Anything that has to do with it… is no longer your concern, is it?"
Esme was surprised at how much those words stung. It twisted and squirmed in her gut as she stared at Clarence, seeing the hurt in his eyes so evidently mirroring her own.
"You're kicking me from the project?"
Clarence didn't answer. The room fell completely silent—so silent that it stole Esme's breath and ripped the fight right out of her. She nodded in acceptance as she left the room.
Only a few feet down the corridor, away from prying eyes and loose lips, did she finally have her answer. She thumbed a number into her cell, bringing it to her ear. It rang unusually—two buzzes followed by silence.
"Hey… yeah, I know you said to only call you when I was serious about it."
There was a lengthy pause. Esme's eyes steadied as they held back the tears, refusing to break.
"This is your answer."
Mallory Livingston
Board Member
The cool, crisp evening air tangled itself around Mallory's throat as she left the building, head bowed and Gucci clutch tucked safely underneath her armpit.
She moved hastily along the sidewalk, refusing to flag down a taxi. The street was blocked up fully with traffic at least six blocks long and frankly, Mallory just didn't have the patience to sit in the stuffy confinements of some man's car who refused to wear deodorant when she was already so fucking late because of Princess Zuri.
The only small slip of joy she got was seeing Clarence's face when his own sister voted against him.
Mallory knew it was coming and it still brightened her mood.
She had nothing against Clarence—on the contrary, she sorta liked him despite his favouritism to Zuri—but it was always entertaining to see him knocked down a peg or two when he got a little too cocky.
Mallory's cell buzzed in her clutch as she swerved between lollygagging tourists. She ignored it.
In actuality, Esme had confided in Mallory her growing concerns with the sudden rush to finish production… especially after 'boomgate' which left Mallory completely unnerved that the programming was in there, somewhere, for the NPC to be able to say it.
Her cell buzzed again as she hurried across the street.
She checked her watch. 19:23.
Fucking Zuri, Mallory thought. She was definitely going to be late, spectacularly at the rate that the pedestrians kept crowding the fucking sidewalk and she just had to hope that he wouldn't leave, as he always did.
It was always so easy for him to do that instead of waiting.
Her cell buzzed a third time before Mallory practically growled, popping open her clutch and hurriedly answering it, not even paying attention to whom it was.
"There had better be a good reason that you're blowing my phone up despite me obviously ignoring you."
"Are you busy?"
Esme. Mallory just didn't have it in her to be awful to her friend. "Sorry… I'm just heading to dinner. Are you okay? You sound upset."
"I—" There was a pause. "Can you come over after the meal?"
"Truthfully? I don't know," Mallory answered, shouldering past some men in suits who made no attempts to hide their stares. A wolf whistle, however, caught her attention and made her stop dead in her tracks and spin around. "Sorry, one second. Hey, hey! Jackasses! Don't whistle at me like I'm a dog—I'm not your mother."
"Are you okay?"
Mallory scowled and carried on walking. "Of course I am."
"You sound stressed."
"I'm just irritated that I'm late," Mallory rounded the corner, Cosme now in sight. "I'll call you when I'm free, okay?"
"No rush. I'm not going anywhere."
Mallory hung up, entering the restaurant. In the distance, at the table she personally requested, she could see his head. She would've sighed in relief if she wasn't so tightly wound.
A pit opened in her stomach—a feeling she constantly associated with him, as if she were doing something illegal.
There was simply no turning back now.
Mallory walked over to the man, head held high, and threw herself in too deep once more.
Clarence St. Cloud
Co-Founder
"Are we ready?"
Clarence paced back and forth in the small confines of Grace's office. He often ran here when he was nervous or anxious or needed help—it had become a sanctuary to him in a way that he couldn't find in Esme.
And right now, he needed anywhere that Esme wouldn't dare to go.
"Yes," Clarence nodded.
He could see the hesitance in Grace's eyes as she looked back at her computer screen, fingers hurriedly tapping away in a strange symphony that Clarence found little comfort in.
Grace paused, "Did… did you want to press the button?"
There was no going back.
Clarence's media campaign was gold—it would spread like wildfire to every social media network in site to target every teenage audience he could think of. The up-and-coming socialities on instagram, the savvy tweeters of twitter, the connoisseurs of reddit, the dregs of society who still used facebook for anything other than memes. It even included targeted obsessors in the online communities—from roleplayers to fanfiction writers to those who made moodboards of fictional characters and non-canon pairings and—
"Yes," Clarence purposely cut his tangent off, "Now or never."
It truly was now or never.
He wouldn't survive another board vote. Not when he only barely got it through this time.
Dreamscape deserved to be seen by everyone.
Clarence moved around to Grace's side, leaning over her. Comically, the screen showed a small, tiny black square for him to press, as opposed to the villainous red button. He couldn't help but laugh under his breath as he hit it, successfully launching the campaign for all to see.
"It's done," Grace said softly, "Dreamscape applications are done. How— are you going to look through every application yourself?"
Clarence nodded, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders and settle deep in his stomach instead. "Well it certainly isn't going to be first come, first served. This isn't 2012."
w w w. dreamsarenightmarestoo. weebly (slash) the-players
We are officially launched!
For those on discord, I obviously launched the tribute blog a while back. But officially, pretend this is the first time you've seen it. A couple things to close the prologues out so bear with me!
Firstly, as a simple European, please broaden your minds and suspend belief in some areas. I will do some research into areas and towns and try to be as accurate as I can, but also, I'm not perfect and downright lazy and I don't want to spend half an hour learning about some restaurant in Manhattan and knowing the exact street it is on or its menu etc. You'll have to cut me slack as I prefer to focus on the characters themselves anyway.
Secondly, intros are going to be very different. The situations for these characters are completely different so I can spend more time with them pre-trauma (but there is no trauma).
Lastly, I don't have an updating schedule. I kinda just do it when I can. You'll always have to bear with me on this, too, but feel free to nudge me if you think I'm an awful person.
See you for our first set of intros: Daniel, Carolina, Arcadio and Maeve!
—Corey