by Rachel Ford
Alfred was happy to see her returned to her former high spirits, the revelation about Swell Dude notwithstanding. He, too, found himself enjoying his time, though not quite to the degree she did.
The morning was spent in sessions, but Nance had put aside some time in the afternoon to stop at one of the tabletop gaming stations. “I thought,” she said, “this might be a good chance for you to try something other than chess.”
Alfred was perfectly happy sticking with the tried-and-true classics, but he was determined to be a good sport. And, he found with a measure of surprise, she was right. There was something oddly satisfying about rolling the hard six to save his skirmisher from orc raiders or playing a night thief card to rob Nancy of her winnings. It was less fun to get slapped with a treason card in turn, or lose his paladin to a lowly giant garden slug. “Snake eyes should count for something. What kind of game doesn’t have a bonus for snake eyes?”
Still, garden slugs and questionable rules notwithstanding, he had a good time. “Let’s buy that, Nance,” he said when they wrapped up.
She grinned. “I figured you’d like it.”
They worked their way through several more games. Before the afternoon was finished, Alfred had picked out a stack of eight games. It included the ones they’d played, and a few recommended by vendors. “Look at this one, Nance,” he said, shifting his half of the pile so he could hand her the game. “You play as a cursed goblin king. You have to create your own goblin army. You can raid other player’s villages to recruit fighters – or you can turn your goblins into cannibals to increase your food supply. Guess what I’m going to do?”
“Good God,” she laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”
He grinned. “Make sure you feed your goblins well, Nance. I want them nice and fat for my men. Nothing like well marbled meat to keep the troops’ strength up.”
When they got back to the room, Nancy said, “Well, let’s get a picture of them.”
“Why?”
“So we can show people your sweet haul.”
Alfred didn’t always understand Nancy’s propensity to capture and share such moments with their acquaintances and friends, but today he did. “Alright. Grab the chess board too.”
It was done, and after fussing for a few minutes to stack the games by box size and shape, the taxman smiled in satisfaction. Then, he snapped his picture, and uploaded it with, “The weekend’s epic haul. Thanks Nance.”
The picture was barely up when likes and comments started coming in. Caspersen said, “Glad you two are having fun.”
Nancy’s dad offered, “Wow. That’s a lot of games.”
“Snooze fest. LOL, just saying,” Tony Favero, Alfred’s older brother, wrote. “Anyway, saw the news this morning. That was you, right? Glad you didn’t get shot.”
Jeff Filmore said, “Ohh, Goblin Wars of Old Antar? You’ll have to bring that to game night one of these times, Nancy.”
It was Justin’s comment that almost ruined his mood, though. He wrote, “How exciting.” He could hear the sarcasm ringing in his ears, translated directly from the text. He found himself remembering the comments the other day about Nancy, and scrolling to Justin’s profile to see what else might have been posted in the interval.
There wasn’t much up from Friday, but the Thursday posts put a scowl on his face. The line, “There’s another word for that,” really made his blood boil.
Justin’s posts didn’t, he noticed, have many reactions: a stray “like” here, a crying emoji there… Mostly, though, they were untouched. Under that particular post there was one comment thread. Alfred couldn’t help himself. He had to bring it up.
It started with a post from Andy Brecht. “Sorry things didn’t work out, man.” Justin responded with a question mark. Andy wrote, “You and Stacey broke up, right?”
A minute later, Lyon replied, “Wth dude? Of course not lol.”
“Oh,” Andy replied, with an embarrassed emoji. “I thought that’s what these posts were about.”
“Hell no, man. We’re strong as ever. This is just an observation.”
“Oh, my bad. Sorry.”
“It’s all cool.”
Alfred read and then re-read the exchange. Then, he laughed out loud, and shared it with Nancy. She was as amused as he was. “What a dumbass,” she said.
The taxman nodded. He was feeling a lot better about the Justin situation when he took the phone back and refreshed his feed. Then, he scowled a second time. There, posted half a minute ago, was a new pearl of wisdom from Justin Lyon. It read, “If you need things to make you happy, the people in your life aren’t doing it.”
Nancy, though, only laughed when he showed her this post. “Babe, he’s not worth getting upset over. Honestly, he’s a – a turd sandwich.”
Alfred nodded. It was true enough, he knew. Still, he felt as if, on some level, he needed to respond. So he typed his own message on his own page, and hit submit. It read, “Truly happy people don’t waste their time trying to invalidate other people’s happiness.”
Nancy smiled when she saw it. “I’m going to go like that,” she said. “In fact, I’ll even share it. But then we’re going to put our phones away and forget about Justin. Okay?”
“Alright,” he agreed.
He didn’t entirely stick to his word. He did check his notifications a few more times that afternoon. There were quite a few of them, and he smiled to see that they were all positive.
Andy Brecht liked the post. Caspersen commented, “Isn’t that the truth?”
On Nancy’s page, Monica Abbot wrote, “Damned straight. Just be you, cousin, and ignore the haters.”
On his own, his mother replied, “Very true, Alfred. Very mature outlook.”
Even Josh Stevenson liked the post.
Alfred, finally, was able to convince himself to ignore Justin Lyon. He was, as Nancy had so eloquently put it, a turd sandwich. And he was not going to spoil his getaway with Nance by worrying about what a turd sandwich had to say about him and her.
So, he focused on the activities of the day. It passed quickly, and before he knew it, dinner rolled around and he was meeting Randy Barret and his partner, Dave Contrino. Barret had given up his Swell Dude costume – “For obvious reasons,” he explained – and was in jeans and a Marvelous Comics t-shirt. Dave Contrino was still in his Captain Patriot uniform, though.
Alfred was glad of that. It meant he wasn’t the silliest dressed man at their table. Still, costume aside, Mr. Contrino impressed the taxman as being a sensible kind of man. He liked Barret too.
The data developer was certainly awkward, but that was something with which Alfred could empathize. How many days, after all, had it taken before he was entirely comfortable here? But he was intelligent – and he had a healthy respect for Nancy, which, of course, solidified the taxman’s opinion of him.
“No one was surprised when she got the promotion,” he confided. “Just disappointed – you should see the idiot who took her place.”
Dave smacked him playfully, and he grinned, explaining most unnecessarily, “It was Dave.”
“I gathered,” Alfred said. “But I’m glad she did.”
Randy smiled. “Me too.”
When the conversation turned to the events the day before, and the revelations about Chris Becket, Nancy and Randy shook their heads dolefully. “I still can’t believe it,” Barret said.
This was so very similar to what he’d heard from Nance half a dozen times already that Alfred had to stifle a laugh. “Well,” he offered sagely, “I guess Swell Dude wasn’t so swell after all.”
This earned him a frown from Nancy and Randy, and a snort of laughter from Dave. “Sorry, babe,” he apologized, with – if he was honest with himself – not much sorrow. “But I couldn’t resist.”
“It’s the death of an icon,” Randy declared soberly. As she agreed, Alfred forced a somber expression onto his own features. Dave Contrino just nodded.
Mercifully, other than retelling
their own part in the story, they didn’t linger long on the tragedy of Swell Dude’s downfall. Conversation returned to happier topics, and the two couples parted with the firm promise to get together again.
“That was nice,” Nance said as they walked back to their room, his arm slung over her shoulders. “I’m glad we did it.”
He nodded. “Me too.” Then, he added, “I’m glad we did it all. The whole weekend, I mean.”
She grinned up at him. “Really? Even after almost being shot?”
“I could have done without that part,” he admitted. “Hopefully, when we go next year, they won’t have invited any killers.”
She laughed. “Careful, Mr. Favero. I might hold you to that.”
“I hope you do.”
They’d reached their room now, and he took his arm away from her long enough to unlock the door and for them to step inside. He flipped on the light as they entered, and caught sight of himself, in the reflection of the long mirror that hung against the bathroom door. He stared back at the strange, green-tinted apparition.
From the pointy ears to the fake eyebrows, he couldn’t remember having worn anything so silly since he’d trick-or-treated as a kid at Halloween decades ago. But the fact was, it didn’t matter. He was happy, happier than he could ever recall being. He was deliriously happy.
“Nance?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
She smiled back at him, with a sweetness that nearly made his heart stand still. “I love you too, Alfred Favero.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Their final day at MarvelousCon passed far too quickly. There’d been an announcement in the morning that, at three o’ clock, Rick Ashworth and Kate Dallas would be making a special announcement in ballroom ten that would be broadcast to all the other rooms. “An announcement for an announcement,” Alfred remarked. “Sounds very serious.”
They didn’t think much of it, spending their time at other sessions. She was particularly delighted to get a spot in a beta-play session of Station 49. “That’s one good thing about so many people leaving,” she grinned. “More open spots.”
Soon enough, though, it was three. Nancy and he had got seats in ballroom ten right by the stage, finding – with a measure of surprise – that they’d been reserved specifically for them. “What’s going on, I wonder?” Nance mused.
Alfred shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re going to kill off Swell Dude or something.”
Her forehead puckered at the thought. “I hope not.”
“I’m kidding, Nance.”
They were not left to wonder long, though. Ashworth came out first, saying, “Good afternoon everyone. Thank you all for being here today.”
Kate followed him a moment later, echoing these statements. “Thank you for sticking with us, despite the – well, incident last week.”
Now, Eugene Miller stepped on stage. The crowd’s enthusiasm picked up at the sight of the director. “Thank you everyone. It’s a pleasure to be here with you again.”
“So,” Rick said, “there’s been some shakeups in the MDC universe. That’s not going to surprise anyone here.”
“But,” Miller spoke up, “we’re here today for a few reasons. The first, we want to assure everyone – because we know, you’ve all been wondering – that MDC is not going anywhere.”
Applause met this declaration, and he continued, “Neither is Swell Dude.”
Nancy clapped now too.
“Swell Dude is an ideal,” Kate put in. “We’re still reeling – like all of you – from the news about Chris, and everything he did, and tried to do. But Swell Dude is bigger than Chris, or any one individual. Swell Dude is the ideals of justice and fairness and compassion, that Rick had in mind when he created him.”
“What Swell Dude represents,” Ashworth said, “can’t be killed by one man.”
“Not unless he’s got Plutonium Zeta, anyway,” Miller declared to the crowd’s laughter.
Alfred threw a blank stare at Nancy. “It’s the only thing that can kill him,” she explained in a whisper. “In the comics.”
“So today, we’re here to tell you that Swell Dude will be back.”
The crowd cheered, and the trio waited until the cheering died down. “But,” Ashworth said, “we’re in the hero business. It’s our job to recognize heroes. And Friday, we met a real life, honest to goodness, flesh and blood superhero.”
He turned now to the stage entrance, and Alfred’s jaw nearly dropped as Josh Stevenson, grinning nervously, walked onstage. Nancy cheered, and the crowd joined in.
“You all saw the news, the livestreams, the pictures. You all know Josh Stevenson, the man who disarmed Chris Becket and stopped a shooting right here at MarvelousCon.”
“Well,” Eugene Miller said, “Allow us to present Agent Kilbourn, the latest member of BLAB.”
Nancy grabbed Alfred’s arm, and was screaming with delight. “Oh my God!”
When he could finally be heard over the crowd – and her – he asked, “Who the heck is Kilbourn?”
“He’s the human attaché to BLAB, in the comic books. He’s not a huge character, but he’s a real badass. Big fan favorite. Everyone’s been waiting for him in the movies. Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s going to be Josh!”
Alfred shared her amazement. Strategically, it was, he supposed, a good move for MDC. If the crowd’s raucous reception was anything to judge by, it would be well-received. Josh’s muscular physique, good looks, and military bearing would fit the role well enough. As long as they didn’t let him speak. The marine, he decided, would probably do alright if there wasn’t much acting required. And it was surely good business acumen to capitalize on his heroic efforts rather than letting attention linger on the ignoble behavior of one of their leading actors.
Still, the idea of Josh Stevenson playing a superhero, even a minor one, was a little hard to swallow.
Nancy was delighted, though. “Oh my God,” she gushed, “I know Kilbourn – we know Kilbourn. You know what this means, Alfred?”
He was almost afraid to ask, “What?”
“You’ve got no excuse not to see the next movies with me.”
After the session, Kate and Rick offered their thanks a final time. “We can’t thank you enough, you know, for what you found out about Chris.”
Josh, meanwhile, grinned, “Well, Nance, what do you think of that?”
“I can’t believe it. That’s so awesome.”
“I would have told you earlier,” he said with an apologetic shrug, “but I couldn’t. No one could know before the announcement.”
She nodded. “It was a hell of a surprise. I’m really happy for you, Josh.”
“Thanks, Nance.” Then, he smiled. “Well, I’ll let you guys go. I should go get packed anyway.”
“You’ll join us for dinner, won’t you?” Kate asked as Nancy and Alfred started to make their own goodbyes. “Eugene will be joining us too.” She smiled. “So, if you have any questions about the new movie – off the record, of course – you might get some answers.”
Nancy’s eyes sparkled, and Alfred grinned. “I think that’s a yes from us, Ms. Dallas.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There was already a stack of newspaper clippings and printouts waiting at his desk for Alfred when he returned. There was a hand-written note from Caspersen, too, that said, “Looks like you’re famous now, Favero.” It was accompanied by a front-page article from the local paper, headlined, “Local trio thwarts shooting at MarvelousCon.” Alfred tried not to cringe at the picture of himself, screaming wildly.
At least, he thought, I wasn’t in costume. That would have been truly hard to live down.
Still, he smiled as he looked through the clippings. He had seen some of them, of course, but he and Nance had been too busy to pay too much attention to the reporting of the incident. “It’ll all be online afterwards, anyway,” she’d advised.
His office was a nonstop hub of ac
tivity, too, with people from all over dropping in to congratulate him. Even Jeff Filmore stopped by. “Hey Alfred, that’s pretty cool that you’re friends with Kilbourn. You think you’ll get any kind of onset invites or anything?”
It wasn’t until just around eight-thirty, though, that the dreaded but inevitable visit from Justin came. “Holy smokes Freddo,” he declared. “I saw the news. That was one heck of a weekend away.” He laughed.
“Yup,” Alfred managed. “Sure was.” He stood up. “Well, I’ve got the audit in about five minutes…”
Justin made no move to stand aside, though. “Well, I’m just glad you and Nance made it through without any added aeration.” He laughed again.
“Me too,” the taxman grimaced.
“And, I saw in the news that that Josh fella was there too.” He shook his head, and Alfred’s grimace deepened. “Gotta say, Freddie, that’s very openminded of you. To let your girlfriend bring her ex along on your romantic weekend, I mean.”
“Oh, Nance had nothing to do with that,” Alfred said casually. “I invited him.”
Justin laughed, until he realized that Alfred was serious. Then, an eyebrow arched. “You?”
“That’s right. Nance didn’t even know until we got there.” He shrugged. “It was a surprise to her.”
Justin blinked, then soundlessly flapped his gums a full three times. He looked, Alfred thought with a smile, like a fish out of water. “A…surprise?” he managed to sputter.
“That’s right,” Alfred nodded. “But, like I say, I got to get to my meeting.” He left him standing mutely, mouth agape, in the doorway to his office, to mull over that tidbit and draw whatever conclusions he might. “Have a great day, Justin,” he called over his shoulder.
About the Author
Rachel Ford is a software engineer by day, and a writer most of the rest of the time. She is a Trekkie, a video-gamer, and a dog parent, owned by a Great Pyrenees named Elim Garak and a mutt of many kinds named Fox (for the inspired reason that he looks like a fox).