The Carnival

[Ander]

Ander sighed, sitting on a bench – garbed in normal clothes once again – and fiddling with the strange device clipped to his leather belt, the one that somehow he had completely neglected before it had been pointed it out prior to his “Perform for Gamer” event. He’d never seen something like this before, and wasn’t terribly adept at unfamiliar technology. Really, the motions primarily served to occupy his hands while he decompressed from the latest events. He supposed in the end, despite the ridiculousness of their task and the odd ensemble of characters forced into cooperation with him, it hadn’t been that terrible of an occurrence. It certainly provided an excellent transition from his trauma facing the saiyan Bardock. Given the choice between embarrassment in a theater and having your face mangled with your pride ripped to pieces, no small wonder he’d rather choose the former.

Although entirely unbeknownst to him, his lack of experience in galactic kidnapping – despite the separatist abduction – and subjugation to the personal whims of diabolical madmen made him the odd man out in this situation. While bereft of the knowledge and determination to contextually rail against their captor, this absence of prior involvement also provided him blissful ignorance to the mental and emotion fractures that eventually cracked even the staunchest of people. In the whole park, Ander was probably the only one left who hadn’t wholly figured out the nature of the environment, or the machinations – even the true identity – of Gamer. He suspected, as anyone naturally would, that something about Kill Town wasn’t quite right, but the concept of being trapped inside a virtual world still perched beyond the boundaries of his sheltered imagining. Had he been aware of this, it might have struck him as ironic, given his otherwise affluent talent for acquiring and deducing information, particularly the concealed kind.

Still, he waited patiently and learned, little by little, how everything worked. At this point, the wrong questions merely displayed obliviousness and therefore stupidity, so the thief needed to tread carefully among those with whom he spoke.

In the midst of his reflections, the device suddenly started beeping, although in a fashion atypical with the “warning, incoming game” variety. A message displayed across the screen, reading simply: “Attention – Theft capsule used by Player Kaden. Monies stolen. Subtracting amount and transferring to Player Kaden.”

Ander snorted, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

Trying to beat me at my own game, are we?

Problem was, he had no idea what “monies” were, or even their value to him or his current situation. From his position, the theft merely occurred out of some misplaced – or well-placed, depending on your perspective – personal spite for past transgressions. Ander simply assumed that as the case, for now. It provided for much entertainment, however, as the act only served to reinforce Ander’s perception of Kaden and his hypocritical nature. The more people tried to convince you of the truth with words, the more the lies showed through with actions. Pretending to be something you weren’t only worked as well as your most revealing moments, those little tiny slips of affirmation vigilantly detected by probing suspicions. In the end, fraudulent behavior was always exposed for its hidden counterpart, and while the thief liked to believe himself above showing his own colors, even he was not completely immune, as had already been proved so very shortly ago before this whole ordeal began. Ander shrugged it off for now, resolving not even to mention it to Kaden if he ever crossed paths with him again. Of course he’d have to return the favor, far better and more elaborate, but timing was everything. Besides, if one wanted to steal out of spite, they needed to follow the cardinal rule: it has to be something of value… figure out what they valued, and then take it.

Ander tilted his head up from his hunched position on the bench, knowing he couldn’t drag his feet much longer. He returned the pager to its previous location on his belt, trying to think of some kind of plan for the remainder of his stay. The thief found himself near the flashing and spinning rides once again, but he noted the absence of the congregation of both the recognizable as well as unfamiliar faces he’d briefly met, including Ashe. He supposed he could attempt to make some kind of temporary alliance, as long as he wound up on the beneficial end of the deal. No doubt cast over the fact that the events pitted him with and against others, so establishing acquaintances with these people provided an informational edge.

Seeking fulfillment of this common sense tactic, he forced himself up and started walking around, keeping a lazy eye out for a spot of blue hair and a black dress (which, at this point, was likely out of principle more than anything else). Ander jammed his hands in his pockets, seeking to simply blend in for the time being, a task of relatively little difficulty in a park this huge with a crowd this packed. He glanced around, noting the gaiety of everything around him. Patrons laughed merrily and carried on entertaining conversations, competed amicably in games of strength and skill, licked up syrupy snow-cones or picked at cheerfully colored cotton candy, screamed wildly on nauseating rides that twisted and flipped them in all manner of directions, and simply enjoyed the environment around them in accordance with its intentional designs. Up until now, the dune dweller had been unable to fully immerse himself in the lackadaisical nature of things. “Have fun,” Mixie had said. “Enjoy yourself.” Her seemingly nonsensical advice now rang with a startling note of wisdom. After all, why not have fun? His escape from this strange carnival until its intended expiration faltered under dismal odds. Why waste energy raging against the bars? Admittedly, the stark dissonance in the moods of the events did leave him confused with whiplash, going from fighting for his life to subsequently performing a play like nothing at all was wrong. Still, Ander felt it perhaps best to simply bide his time and wait for the right opportunity, if one presented itself at all. Until then, he could allow himself to be strung along to the puppeteer’s plots. Besides, he preferred the notion of willful participation – however temporary or informed – over refusal and being forced to do it anyway. Giving up and laying low under the pretense of giving up weren’t the same thing. So, in the end, he’d follow the brunette’s giggly suggestion and try to have fun.

At that particular self-conclusion, Ander spotted a head of familiar pink hair in a manner of almost perfect timing. He lingered thoughtfully for a moment, hiding amongst the crowd in an almost stalker-like manner and observing closely to confirm the girl’s identity without a doubt. His blue eyes flicked around methodically, circling her immediate vicinity to pick out any possible indication of company. Nope. She was alone. Although, he had figured that last time, and wound up assimilating into more than he bargained for. The dune dweller drew in a breath, determined to erase the fumbles of his prior introduction and leave a better, more lasting impression. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he strolled over, keeping out of her line of sight as he crept up from behind.

“We never did get to go on that ride,” he said, leaning over her shoulder and speaking right next to the side of her head.

Ashe gasped and spun around, her arms flailing protectively, and she accidentally smacked him in the face, causing him to grunt in surprise and stumble backwards a step or two. She gasped again, placing her hands to her mouth.

So much for smooth.

“I’m sorry, you scared me. I thought you were some kind of creepster,” she said.

Ander composed himself, a toothy smile gracing his countenance once more. “It’s all right, I’ve been through worse.”

Yeah, at least I didn’t get stabbed this time, he thought with an inward chuckle.

The thief stuck out a hand. “I don’t think we got properly introduced last time. My name is Ander.”

The girl glanced down at his offered gesture, still as tentative as before. Eventually, she took it, and gave it a light shake before withdrawing her hand. “Ashe.”

“That’s a nice name. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ashe,” Ander nodded cordially. “So, how ’bout that ride, huh?” The thief raised up his palms in a motion of good faith. “I promise you, I’m housebroken and I’ve had all of my shots. Ferris wheel, roller coaster, scrambler, I don’t mind which one. Probably not teacups though, not such a fan of those.” He paused for a moment, unable to resist the chance at a little good-natured ribbing. “That is, of course, if don’t want to completely run in the opposite direction or if there aren’t any blond-haired delivery boys nearby.”