by Mars Dorian
“Come on boys, I need a bit of support here. Let’s fire up our friend.”
They nodded.
Elli put on her finest singsong voice.
“Go, Cassius, go.”
Bam and Whizzard clapped in rhythm and shouted.
“Go, Cassius, go.”
And thanks to group pressure, the hundreds of fans clapped and shouted seconds after that.
“Go, Cassius, go.”
Cassius sat down.
He inspected his muscle-infused leg. And the baton clutched in his sausage-fingered hands.
He looked to Elli like a puppy waiting for permission. She nodded.
“I soo appreciate you doing this for me.”
She touched her chest and formed a heart with her feline fingers.
“Whatever happens, I’ll always be indebted to you.”
She radiated like the sun on the perfect noon sky.
Cassius closed his eyes. Swung the baton, hit his shin and shouted.
“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.”
The fans shouted as well.
“Goooo, Cassius, goooooooo.”
And then he hit himself again. And again. And again.
Elli watched him with glee and fired up the crowds.
“Hit harder,” she said.
“Hit harder,” said the crowd.
And Cassius hit hard, harder than anything he’d hit in life before. After each baton swing, he clutched his teeth and suppressed the galaxy-sized amount of pain he was experiencing. It didn’t work, but with the fans around him shouting, no one noticed. After the seventh hit, Cassius started crying. Elli knelt down and stroked his other leg.
“It’s okay, let it out. I know you’re a man, and crying feels very un-masculine, but always remember. Nature gave you tear glands for a reason. So make good use of them. And keep hitting.”
She gave him two thumbs up and flashed the cutest smile she could muster up. He sobbed, but with the support of his vlogger idol, and the clapping of the fans, Cassius had to go on. He simply had to. So he hit himself again and again. Each strike harder than the previous. Bam bent over and whispered into Elli’s ear.
“Um, isn’t that enough for now? His knee looks pretty bad already.”
“Well, let’s check,” she said and activated the bone scanner application on her eScroll.
She scanned Cassius’ right leg. The scanner beeped, depicted a 3D image. A hair-sliced crack spread around his tibia bone.
She showed it to Bam.
“What do you think — does it look broken to you?”
“Yes,” he said, “it even says it on the app.”
Cassius sighed in relief. He found his voice again and said,
“Are we finished?”
Elli nodded.
“According to the app, yes, but I’m not so sure. You know, sometimes those programs aren’t as accurate as they claim to be.”
She knelt down to Cassius’ level again, forcing herself to kiss him on the cheek. She pressed her lips against his face, not because it increased her kiss-ability, but because it decreased the chance of stopping her puke from bursting out.
“Can you do one last swing for me? Just to make sure your leg is broken?”
Elli cast her charming spell, which included --
A Bambi-like facial expression
A mellifluous voice
A feminine pose as kawaii as kawaii it could get
To full effect.
Cassius melted like butter over the volcano grill.
“One more, Cassius, one more for me. C’mon now,” Elli said.
She raised her fist into the air. So did the horde of fan bystanders.
“One more, Cassius, one more,” they said in unison.
And the poor guy nodded, because what else was he supposed to do? He raised his baton as high as he could, sank it with super-speed into his shin. Bang. Elli could even hear the crack sound. It reminded her of dried bread crust getting broken in twain. She squealed and jumped into the air.
“You did it, Cassius.”
Cassius smiled for at least two full seconds before the pain tore at his nerve system and made him howl in agony. Didn’t matter, the fans were happy and clapped their hands off. Elli turned to her Blogbuster app.
Saw two points appearing on the team mission profile.
Elli Mental for the win.
“You may have broken your leg, Cassius, but you didn’t break my heart. And that’s all what matters in the end, wouldn’t you agree?”
Cassius wanted to say ‘yes’, but the pain took command of his voice and made him spit out an ‘arrgh’ instead. Two of the security guys brought a stretcher and carried the leg-broken fan inside the Blogbuster Building. Elli didn’t even notice his departure. She was too busy celebrating her win. She dragged both Whizzard and Bam back to the compound. Bam sighed.
“I can’t believe you made the guy break his own leg. It really looked like you pulled a Jedi mind trick on him.”
She smiled.
"The feminine force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded."
88
Spoiler alert — the comments on the Blogbuster channel exploded like word grenades.
LaPucelle wrote.
OMFG. All hail to Elli, destroyer of man-kind.
Diversity-Dave wrote.
This just proves that white people are just as violent, if not more violent, than colored people. And yet, when I look at our prisons, I see way more people of color imprisoned. It’s time we color-match that mistake, once and for all.
#witnesswhiteviolence
UncleSpam wrote.
Looks like Elli broke a new record ;)
HanShotLast wrote.
She’s a Sith.
LizzyMcTwerk wrote.
You go girl. You have the bestest fans everrrrr.
89
Bam wasn’t sure what to think of Elli’s stunt. But at least she scored two points for the team.
Which meant they only had to get one more point.
Which meant they could choose an easier, one-point mission now.
Which meant they were going to win this match in no time.
Which was cool, except for the fact that Bam didn’t present one bit of his brand so far.
Which he had to change asap.
So he said to Elli,
“Let me turn the digital wheel.”
Elli shrugged.
“If it makes you happy.”
It did. He wiped over his eScroll, turned the wheel till it stopped. Laci’s voice boomed from the device.
“U gotz a new one-point task.”
All three vloggers stared at the screen.
“Your task, should you choose to accept it, is to go to Northern Suburbia and live-tattoo ten fans.”
“That’s it?” Elli said.
She just convinced a fan to break his leg, and now she had to tattoo them? Challenge failure.
“It’s only worth one point, so it has to be easy,” Bam said.
“Why does it have to be in Northern Suburbia?” Whizzard said.
Elli shrugged.
“Maybe because it’s the most conservative part of the city? You don’t find many tattooed people over there — let alone tattooed fans.”
No one knew, but no one cared. They cared about winning. So they marched on, believing their success was within reach.
90
Over at Violet’s team, success seemed a lightyear away. Their one-point mission involved traveling to the financial district and have at least ten fans sing a team V-empire anthem nakedly. Seemed easy, especially compared to team Gold Crush’s two-point break-a-leg mission, but it wasn’t. Apparently, the citizens of the city were totally fine with self-mutilation and bloody beatings, but cringed at the idea of exposing their buttocks. Violet tried her charm on a fan in business attire.
“You know, I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but Elli Mental on the other team made a fan break his leg for her.”
The fan shrugged.
“Yeah, but that’s nothing compared to showing my naked body to the public. That’s just sick.”
“It’s just for a minute or so, and you’re going to do it with nine other fans in line. Plus, your genitals are going to be pixelated, so no one is really going to see them.”
The ‘fan’ shook his head and walked away.
Violet sighed and walked back to Fitnessy and Trigger who tried their best to stop the few fans that walked within the vicinity. But except for two male specimens who seemed to be intoxicated, their requests fell on deaf ears. Trigger addressed Violet with a concerned expression.
“We have to change tactics. Unless we intoxicate every one of our closest fans, our efforts will be in vain.”
She nodded.
“You’re the tactician. What do you propose?”
“I wish we could change locations, because the financial district is probably the worst place for nude, public exposure.”
“That’s probably why we have to do it here,” Fitnessy said, ”jeez, I wish we could pick the break-a-leg task instead. That seems much more feasible.”
“Wishing won’t help us win,” Trigger said.
Violet addressed her Vorb.
“Laci, can we abort tasks?”
“You may, but if you do, you have to accept a much more difficult three-point task instead. So ponder your choice carefully.”
“Three point?” Fitnessy said. “If a two-point task involved fan self-mutilation, what will a three-point task demand?”
“Guess we’ll just have to find out,” Violet said.
Trigger mmm’d.
“Are you sure? We may as well continue with this task and find a better tactic. Who knows what we have to ask of our fans on the task with the highest difficulty?”
Violet locked eyes on him.
“Listen, I want to do a three-point task as much as I want to ram a spiked trench coat into my face. But truth is, we suck at this current task, and if we want to win, we better start acting like it.”
Both Trigger and Fitnessy agreed with her and kept their mouths shut.
“Time’s tick-tocking away. I say we go for broke and ask for a new task. Action beats passive pondering.”
Trigger sighed.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
They awaited Fitnessy’s answer.
“Fine,” she said.
Violet nodded, turned the digital wheel on her eScroll. It stopped and popped open a new task. Laci’s prerecorded voice read it aloud.
“You chose a three-point task. Oh my, you crazy fools. But hey, it’s worth three points. So if you win it, you win the mission. Yay.”
Violet choked down a swallow. She couldn’t feel the ‘yay’ emotion of the host.
“Oksey doksey, here we go. Ready? Your task is to convince your fans to stop your rival team from accomplishing their task, whatever it takes. You may use whatever means necessary.”
Pause.
Violet and her team members exchanged glances. Fitnessy frowned.
“Use whatever means necessary?”
“Whatever it takes, which is insane,” Trigger said.
Violet closed her eyes. Wished she could time travel ten seconds into the past. This task was worse than the first.
“Can we forfeit this mission as well?” Fitnessy said to her Vorb.
“You can’t, you already used that option,” Laci said.
“What if we don’t accomplish this task?” Violet said.
“Then you’ll lose the Blogbuster show by default.”
Violet’s shoulders slumped. Trigger put on his deep, lecturing voice.
“I told you we should have stuck to our current mission. It was the reasonable way to go.”
“Should have, should have, let’s not should all over ourselves, no? We all agreed to it.”
Frowny faces deluxe from team V-empire.
“I can get my fans to lend me their car, but to send them on a manhunt seems harsh. And totally morally reprehensible.”
Trigger pondered. Violet didn’t.
“We’ve come too far to give up now. Plus, we’re not forcing anyone into doing something they don’t want. It’s our fan’s choice, so we might as well try it.”
Fitnessy and Trigger just looked at her in frosty silence. Violet groaned.
“Fine, I do it.”
She gazed at the Vorb above her head.
“Dear fans, if you’re watching this, you know our dilemma. We had to forfeit our first task and now face possible defeat.”
Violet held still for second. She dropped the ‘we’ speak and ramped up the personal factor.
“If you are fan of mine, a true, loving fan that ‘luved’ my lavish videos, or my carefully crafted blog posts, and the magnificent techwear I create for you, now’s your chance to give back. The rival team is about to win this mission, which means I will be fired from the Blogbuster. My financial life’s on the line, which means I’ll have to stop vlogging and quit creating my techwear. I’d have to find a normal job. Now if you really, really cared about me, you’d never let that happen. You would help me out and stop the rival team from destroying my dreams. Because that’s the kind of fan you are — the one who wants to give back.”
She paused.
Sweetened her voice.
“If you succeed in stopping the other team, I’ll reward you.”
Pause. She intertwined her hands and looked like she was about to kneel in prayer.
“You’ll win an entire weekend with me, just you and me together. We can do whatever you want to do, within reason, hopefully. But options are negotiable.”
She air-kissed the Vorb. A gesture seen by millions of viewers.
Fitnessy rolled her eyes and whispered.
“Did you just offer yourself to your fans?”
“I wasn’t offering myself, I was talking them into taking action.”
Fitnessy crossed her arms. Trigger cleared his throat.
“I think this was a bad, bad idea. Some fans are unpredictable.”
“Do you want to win or not?”
“Not at all costs,” Trigger said.
“I find your lack of commitment disturbing,” Violet said.
“Different goals for different folks.”
Fitnessy sighed.
“You guys, please don’t fight now.”
Trigger nodded.
“So, what now?”
Violet pondered.
“We hope that one of my true fans helps us out.”
91
Half an hour later, at the other side of the city.
Nothing was more disturbia than the sameness of suburbia. Far away from the turmoils of the city. Which meant flatter, more boring and calmer. In fact, the only noticeable noise came from an electric BMW humming its premium chassis along the impeccable, self-healing concrete. Can you say fizzzz?
“We’re here,” Bam said instead.
Elli was like, d’uh.
Whizzard was like, W’hizzard.
They checked the location tag on their eScroll map. They stood right at the green mark. So far so good. Bam didn’t smile just yet.
“So we have to find ten people who are willing to get tattooed by us?”
“Two points for Einstein,” Elli said, ”the question is, what constitutes a tattoo?”
Laci’s voice appeared from the Vorbs floating above their heads.
“Anything that lasts somewhat permanently. You have to convince your fans to have their skins scratched with your names.”
Bam sighed.
“But who of us knows how to do tattoos?”
“Who cares,” Elli said.
“You scratch your name into your fan’s skin, that’s it. Do it ten times, and I — we win this mission.”
She turned alpha-female again and gazed at her Vorb from above.
“Dear fans, we’re here on 42nd Elm Street, Northern Suburbia. If I mean anything to you, and if you want to support me after
all the years of free video content I’ve bestowed upon you, come to my location. And have me grace your skin with a sweet Elli Mental signature.”
Honey voice? Check.
Bambi-face? Double-check.
Laser soul piercing eyes? Triple-check.
“And please, bring any tool that can be used for tattooing. I’m counting on you.”
She pointed straight at her Vorb to stress the ‘you’ part. After the public announcement, she addressed her male team members who stood around like popsicles frozen to the ground.
“What are you guys waiting for? Appeal to your fans. The more, the merrier.”
They didn’t bother to object.
They addressed their fans with the same words as Elli’s. Whether they liked it or not, she pretty much knew how to run this mission, and as long as they were going to win, they were fine with it.
Elli grinned the brightest. Success was only ten signatures away.
92
Winning.
Well, almost.
Almost, because Bam, Elli and Whizzard set up a table on a fan’s front lawn in the middle of sweet suburbia.
Lots of true fans assembled, at least twenty-five. They wore official Blockbuster merch with original slogans like ‘Team Bam’ or ‘Team Elli’. No one wore a ‘Team Whizzard’ outfit, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whizzard was too busy practicing his trademarked crook smile. Which pleased some of the ‘fans’, i.e. the Whizzard haters.
“Ungh, he’s even uglier in offline life,” one anti-Whizzard fan said.
The others standing in line seemed to agree. Bam looked up and realized some of the fans brought their own Vorbs. Crazy how fast that device burned into public awareness. He wondered how much he and the other vloggers had played part in that success.
“Hey, focus,” Elli said.
Bam looked at the freckleface and nodded. Unfortunately, she was right. Now wasn’t the time to drift into daydreams. He shifted his attention back to the table. The fans acted on Elli’s demand and brought some basic DIY tattoo tools. Latex gloves, a very narrow sewing needle, a bottle of 98% rubbing alcohol, anti-bacterial soap, a pencil, tape, thread, India ink, a bandage, Vaseline, and patience.
Pretty cool, except for the patience part. Team Gold Crush definitely lacked that one. They poked their fans’ skin with inked needles as fast as they could. Needless to say, the resulting signatures sucked. They looked as if illiterate eight year olds with finger spasms were practicing their writing skills for the tenth time. Especially Bam’s signature, which only consisted of three characters, was a mess deluxe.