literature

Fractured Perspective 2 - AVSE

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Anathema stood in the doorway, leering at Alexander like he was a particularly juicy steak. She grinned and revealed needle-sharp teeth.

Alexander fell out of his bed in his haste to retreat. He hit the floor with a loud thud.

Anathema giggled. "Oh? What's wrong Alexander? It's me, Happiness!" She took a step closer and Alexander scrambled backward. "I did tell you the next time we met wouldn't be in your home turf."

Alexander's back met the cabinet and he got to his feet, the staff clacking on the ground as he tried to make his legs support his weight.

Anathema laughed. "Nowhere to run now little character. Nowhere to hide. And no one to save you."

"I think this is where I make my Big Damn Hero moment. HERE I COME TO WRECK YOUR DAAAAY!"

From out of nowhere came Writer in a dropkick to Anathema. Her grin was still plastered on her face when she took the kick on her face and flew backwards out the open doorway.

The Writer remained hovering in midair before he righted himself and touched down. He extended his arm and the sleeve flowed over to Alexander to yank him upright.

A tall gentleman walked through the doorway, dressed in the garb generally associated with ye olde Victorian England, complete with monocle and top hat. He regarded Writer with a droll expression. "You," he said with contempt.

"Me!" said the Writer. "Sorry Tempest, you know how much I hate being left out of the fun."

"Tempest?" said Alexander, using the mangled cabinet for support.

"Tempest, Shift, Alter," said Writer, his robes altering into a skintight outfit, as if the cloth were liquid. "All of those fit the Muse of Change."

"Change?" Alexander looked at the man he'd spoken to several times. "But you told me you were the Muse of--"

Tempest removed his monocle and stored it in his breast pocket with an irritated air. "You are most troublesome, Author."

"Sorry, I can never resist a chance to stick my nose in Samuel's business," said Author.

"I will have to rectify that," said Tempest. "Anathema, I will deal with the Author. Destroy the Blank, he's served his purpose."

"But--"

"Your nature is not conducive to capture," said Tempest, yanking his gloves off to reveal smooth emerald rings. "Samuel wants him alive."

"I could use knockout gas!" said Anathema helpfully.

"Which he would breathe in how?"

Anathema shut up.

An immense wind whipped into the room and picked up any loose medical items to whirl around Author in a violent spiral. The wind caught his cloak and tried to yank him into the vortex. He grabbed the cloth and it wrapped around the hand, transforming into a massive bone-like claw over the appendage.

Author hunkered down and a silver smile appeared over his face. "Starting strong right out the gate Tempest?"

"The longer we remain," said Tempest, orchestrating the wind like a conductor, "The more likely the inhabitants of this world will return. Anathema, now!"

"Do not leave my side Alexander!" yelled Author. "You're dead if you leave this room, she's filled the corridor with poison."

The wind broke from the whirlwind and seized Alexander before pulling him towards the doorway.
Author extended his hand and caught the mage in his grip. The claws closed around him to prevent him from being stolen. The material flowed over Alexander and solidifed into a block that thumped to the floor. Rods spiked out of the sides and embedded into the walls and ceiling, preventing the box from being moved.

"You are trying my patience Author," said Tempest, the wind pulled back to surround him. "He's a Blank, you know that. Why do you seek to protect a mere background character?"

"Oh that's funny," Author, his outfit growing armblades. "You think I'd buy for a second that Samuel would tell you to destroy a Blank? That he'd think a Blank could bait an Author in? Puh-lease. So..." He scraped the blades together. "Ghostwriter or Avatar?"

Tempest flew forward with a snarl, the wind beneath him and spiraling in front of him like a drill.
Author spun and brought both of his blades to the side of the drill. The two forces ground against each other for a moment before Tempest flew to the side and Author stumbled backwards. "Ole!" he shouted.

Author's left arm shot to the side and the blade blocked Anathema's surprise strike as if by reflex. "Denied~," he sang.

Anathema began to swing wildly, and each swing was blocked without Author taking his eyes off Tempest. "You know how I can see Anny, yet all you can do is throw a tantrum like a kid because I'm denying you the chance to break me open like a pinata."

"Don't call me that!" she screamed. Her cheeks bulged and she vomited forth a stream of emerald liquid at Author.

Author broke from the engagement and jumped up as Tempest flew underneath him, his wind shield scattering the poison all around where it hissed and dissolved anything it touched.

Author flipped upside down and planted his feet on the ceiling. "This is fun."

Anathema started to rush forward and Tempest threw his arm in front of her. "Don't rise to him," he said. "He knows he would lose in an actual fight. He's buying time."

"And here I thought I could keep stringing her along Tempest, thanks a lot," said Author. His silver smile flipped upside down.

Tempest frowned. And then grinned. "But you only hold the upper hand in this foreign world. In the Heart, you are nothing."

"True enough," said Author. "But you'd have a hard time getting me in there."

"Not at all," said Tempest. "I am, after all, Change personified. So I think we need a change of battlefield." He raised his fingers and snapped.

Instantly Author felt as a god does. Omnipotent in all ways, able to alter the world on a whim, and in a place where every desire could be met at will.

And it terrified him.

"How the hell? FUCK!"

Author immediately willed a Death Star into existence in front of him, the leviathan taking form in the medical room instantly. It shattered the walls to reveal an infinite expanse of rainbow mist, the starship nowhere in sight. Everywhere kept shifting into various states of existence as the thoughts of the four visitors influenced the Realm of Dreams, otherwise known to Author as the Heart of Imagination. It was the source of his power and that of Alexander's gift. From it came all stories and existences.

But it was also the home of the Muses. Here, they ruled.

The Death Star was sheared in half by a black wind and dissolved into nothingness as the dark ate away at it, Tempest in the middle of the swirling void. His form was no longer human, but rather his true self. A constantly shifting multicolored essence radiating the power that had inspired creative minds since ancient times. Every time a plot twist was made, a character matured, or a dollar bill broken down into quarters and dimes, it defined Change and his power.

Author formed a life-size replica of Earth and threw it at the Muse, only for it to suffer the same fate as the Death Star. "This is not going well," he said.

Panicked banging made Author jump and he tilted his head. "Oh right!" He snapped his fingers and the box holding Alexander split in two, the white material going to Author to form fighter jet wings on his back. "Don't look down."

Alexander looked down. And panicked at the sight of nothing below his feet. He believed he was going to fall and so he did. Five seconds later he impacted with a stone floor that was growing out of thin air.

Author touched down on the rock. "That was stupid of you. Belief forms this place, so if you want to get out of here alive start believing in the impossible."

Alexander gasped on the rock, trying to keep from hyperventilating. "What the hell are you?"

Author threw another planet at the Muse, now slowly advancing leisurely with a wide grin on his face. "Well screwed for one."

"DO NOT FUCK WITH ME!" yelled Alexander. "WHAT. ARE. YOU."

Author's non-face dissolved, replaced by glittering blue eyes, a nose, and grinning mouth. "I'm a god." He turned and channeled the force of a sun at Tempest, only for the plasma to be turned into a puppy, which he kicked aside. Author chewed his lower lip. "At least here I am. And you could be too. Not that that's helping much."

A...god.

Alexander slowly got to his feet, legs oddly still. Author looked at him and Alexander whispered, "And who are they?"

Author looked quizzical. "I guess you could also call them gods. Whoa wait!"

Alexander strode forward, eyes locked on Tempest. He walked off the stone and did not fall.
Author ran after him. "Hey! You really think you can win against this guy?"

Alexander stopped and and turned to look at Author, a fierce look of determination on his face. "You said he was a god." He looked back at Tempest. "I once slew a god."

"So?"

The stone rumbled underneath Alexander. "So I may not be able to believe in the impossible. But I do believe I can kill one again. Don't tell me what they can do. In this case, my ignorance gives rise to courage. But don't think I trust you yet," he said with an accusing finger pointed at Author. "After this is done you are going to finish whatever it is you started."

Author tilted his head. "I undid the edits to your memory. Somewhat. I can't just erase what was placed over the original, but I can put it alongside your memories. Problem is you're unable to tell which is the truth and which is the lie."

"That explains it," said Alexander, gripping his staff tightly. "I remember you now. But at the same time I remember you being a complete jackass. Both seem equally true, so I need you to survive and finish this job so I know the truth! Especially the one at the very beginning..."

"Regarding your existence?" said Author, stepping up beside Alexander.

Alexander nodded. "But that can wait. I don't want a panic attack when I'm about to tackle something like this. So, what's the plan?"

Author looked at Tempest. "Kick ass and take names?"

"You're not a master strategist are you?"

"My plans can best be described as a one man Thirty Xanatos Pileup."

"Okay...let's not do that then." Alexander looked back at Tempest and focused his will. "Stay with me. He wants you alive, so he'll have to drop his shield of fuck you. Go."
Part 1: [link]
Part 3: Coming Soon!

So here's a glimpse of the world setting Alexander comes from, and hopefully an explanation of why I believe a story can be good even if pretty much everyone in it knows they're fictional. Because even if they aren't real, they still want to preserve their lives and their existences.

It also raises questions of how deep the rabbit hole goes. How far up does one need to search before they find "reality" and how do they know it's not just another fiction by someone ever higher? Nothing is real, so what is? Generally Authors and their ilk who find this truth (in this worldsetting) try very hard NOT to think about it, because it's just one of those questions that's impossible to answer, even for the ones who make their own realities.

Ultimately there is a ceiling, but that's the key, in my opinion, to keeping a meta story still worth reading. The reader knows they are the top tier, the "real," as they watch the ones just below them, in the story, scurry about believing they're on top. This lets the reader become attached to the characters without being broken out of the story when something meta happens, because even if they are wreaking havoc in a book's footnotes, they're still in the story.

More parts to come, Alexander isn't done here yet.
© 2010 - 2024 Madican
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ChimeraDragonfang's avatar
Oh how I wish Quasi and Alexander could have faced off. It would have been glorious mayhem, what with Cassidy and Terrance being the incarnations of Comedy and Tragedy, thus muses of a sort. And bunked with Alexander, heh.

Looking forward to part 3.