by Danika Stone
It wasn’t until Xander was literally at her side that Liv realized the man approaching was him. Without his nineteenth-century clothing, Xander looked unexpectedly benign, and Liv squeaked when an apparent “stranger” put his arm around her waist.
“Jeez, Xander!” she said with a nervous laugh. “Don’t surprise me like that!”
“I didn’t try to. I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes.” He glared down the hallway. “I had some … difficulty getting through.”
“Difficulty?”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Your clothing selection seems to have tipped people off as to my secret identity.”
“Sorry, Batman.” She squeezed his arm. “But I’m still glad you made it.”
“Me too.”
Liv glanced out to the crowd to discover a wall of people staring, openmouthed, at Xander. She expected they’d ignore them after a minute, but he’d caused a sensation. A middle-aged woman came up and asked for a photograph, then a group of teens. After that, Xander hid behind Sarah, who seemed to intrinsically understand his anxiety. Liv joined him where he lurked against the wall, slouching like an angry preteen.
“I hate this,” he hissed. “Everyone’s staring.”
“Yes,” Liv snorted. “But that’s because they’re trying to decide if you’re really Major Malloy or just someone who looks a lot like him.”
“If this were actual cosplay,” Xander said, “wouldn’t I be wearing Malloy’s captain’s jacket?”
Liv bit her lip to keep from smiling. “This is meta cosplay,” she said sweetly. “You’re you, but not you. Malloy, but not really Malloy.”
“Meta, hmm? Why do I have a feeling I’m going to regret this?”
“Oh come on, Xander. It’ll be fine.” Liv bumped him with her hip. “I came to your panel. Now it’s your turn to come to mine.” She felt a wave of guilt for asking him to come without his steampunk garb. Xander in cosplay was the real Xander, while this version of him looked as anxious as she often felt. Liv smiled up at him. “Starveil isn’t that bad, is it?”
“No, dearest, it’s not,” he sighed. “But if I get trampled by a mob, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
A phone buzzed, and both Xander and Liv checked theirs.
And for the next half hour, Xander, Liv, and Sarah chatted silently, their phones buzzing back and forth as they waited out the last, interminable moments. Liv was leaning against Xander, a smile playing over her lips, as another text—for her alone—came through.
Liv felt her face begin to burn, and she turned her screen away from Xander as she tapped in a reply.
Half an hour of delays later, the door next to Brian opened, and he stumbled backward, falling into the ballroom. A security officer stared down at him. “Excuse me, sir, but we need to—”
“I’m still in line!” Brian shouted as he clambered to his feet. “I never left the line! I’m the first! The FIRST!”
The guard sighed wearily. “We’re going to start letting people in, sir. So if you could lead the line forward. No saving seats, no moving chairs, no running, no shoving…” The litany of rules continued long after Brian and the others came through the doors.
The ballroom was the biggest in the Marriott hotel, and it was filled with countless chairs, lined up like ranks of soldiers.
“Hurry up!” Joe said excitedly. “Brian’s halfway to the front already!”
Liv caught Xander’s hand and tugged him past an empty line of chairs to reach Brian, who had power walked to the front row, directly below the stage. Tom Grander’s spot was front and center, a steaming Starbucks paper cup and a water bottle next to the sign that announced him. Twenty more minutes passed as the rest of the long line of waiting fans entered, and the security moved individual people into the remaining spaces in the audience. Finally, the Starveil cast appeared.
The entire audience surged to its feet, cheering.
Xander didn’t move. He shook his head. “You Starveil people don’t fool around, do you?”
“Just get up.” Liv laughed. “People are staring at you.”
Xander climbed to his feet. “I’m up now, dearest. You happy?”
“Very,” Liv said, sliding her hand through his elbow and grinning.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t come here for anyone else.”
Liv felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”
She brought her attention back to the stage as the crowd settled in for the panel. The first portion involved the making of the Starveil movies, complete with video footage. This was followed by MRM’s long-winded synopsis of the evolution of Starveil from a small-budget indie film into the blockbuster franchise it had become.
Xander played Candy Crush on his phone the entire time.
“Xander!” Joe hissed, elbowing him. “You’re missing everything.”
He put his phone away, sliding as far from Joe as the seat would allow. Liv patted Xander’s arm. “Be nice,” she mouthed, and he leaned in to whisper in her ear.
“For you, dearest? Anything. But I promise being bad is so much more fun.”
Liv could hardly concentrate after the whispered suggestion. Suddenly Xander felt far too close, and the room too hot. She blinked, trying to force her attention back to the stage.
The emcee started with a round of preselected questions that had been e-mailed in by Starveil fans around the world. As those ended, a Q & A with the audience began. The first question asked was the one on everyone’s mind: “What’s happening with the Starveil franchise?”
Mike offered to field the question. “I’m not giving spoilers for my own announcement,” he said with mock-seriousness, “but Tom and I may have shared a few last night. All in good time.” He chuckled. “But not quite yet.” He ran his fingers across his mouth, zipping it up, and leaned back in his chair.
The audience broke into a spontaneous round of applause. Even Liv felt her hands growing clammy in anticipation. What was MRM’s big announcement?
The next two questions were for Tom. He was in good form, laughing bashfully at his unexpected disappearance from the Walk of Fame by saying he was “still on West Coast time” and then launching into a story about his experiences at Dragon Con. For half a second, Liv was terrified he’d mention something about their run-in, but, according to Tom, Atlanta had been “nothing but accommodating” and he was “definitely coming back next year.” Relieved, Liv settled back to listen.
The rest of the questions were the standard fandom queries.
“What was it like to kiss Tom Grander?”
“It was work,” the actress who played Tekla answered. “The kind of work you can’t believe you actually get paid to do.”
The crowd cheered.
“What was your favorite moment in Starveil Five?” another fan asked.
“I was standing offscreen when Tom and Brooklyn were filming that last scene, where Spartan sends her into the escape pod. I broke down. Mike had to redo some of the audio because I was crying so hard.”
Liv found herself grinning as she was drawn back into the joy of Starveil. Years of fandom feelings rushed over her like a flash flood, leaving her blinking back tears as she remembered standing in block-long lineups with her father, wanting, needing, to be the first to see the latest film. She loved Starveil with a passion. It was a link to her past, and no matter how difficult Tom Grander, actor, might be, the character of Spartan was still one she connected to on a visceral level. Her throat ached, remembering.
Liv wasn’t the only one overcome by feelings. A few fans only got as far as a gushing explanation as to why Starveil had changed their lives before the emcee took the mic away. “Remember,” the emcee said in a patronizing tone. “One-part questions. Save the testimonials for the Walk of Fame.” It was a rule only loosely enforced.
As everyone knew, the panel’s final act would be the big announcement, which Mike R. Miles had been hinting about for weeks, and the crowd grew restless as the time neared. As the e
mcee gave his closing comments, a faint chant started at the back of the room. “M R M!… M R M!… M R M!… M R M!… M R M!…” It grew in volume until the projectors shuddered, and Liv could feel it like a drum in her chest.
She glanced over at Xander. He was back to Candy Crush.
The actors onstage joined in the shouting. Finally, Mike R. Miles stood. He took the microphone in hand and sauntered to the front of the stage. Next to him, a giant projection of his face tracked his motions. He smiled and nodded with a showman’s practiced ease, waving away the thunder of the fans.
“Quiet, please,” he said, beaming down at the audience. “I’ve got a little announcement to make.”
The screaming grew in intensity. Mike grinned at the camera. His eyes twinkled. It was, Liv realized, a purposeful endeavor to drive up expectation. She chewed the edge of her nail, wishing he’d just make the damned announcement.
After a few more minutes, the din lowered, and Mike nodded. Behind him, the group of actors stood. Tom Grander was smiling, but it looked forced. She frowned in concern. What was bothering him? Mike looked directly into the camera’s lens. His face, half a story high, beamed down from the projection screen.
“It is with great excitement,” Mike said, “that I announce that there will be a NEW Starveil movie starring Tom Grander!”
Pandemonium ensued. Liv surged to her feet, screaming. Joe caught Liv by her shoulders, hugging her as she squealed into her ear. Kelly burst into tears. Sarah stared openmouthed at the screen while the fangirls fluttered around her like birds. Liv looked back to the stage to discover that Brian—strange, angry Brian—had somehow clambered onto the platform and was shaking the hands of the actors, tears streaming down his face. Mike R. Miles yelled something about “the efforts of the fans” and “crowdsourced plotlines” into the microphone, but no one could hear him over the screaming. Spectators stampeded down the aisles toward the actors and—tracked by the cameras—Brian was led off the stage by security.
The deafening roar of the audience belatedly drew Xander away from his phone. He looked around in confusion, then turned to Liv.
“What in the world just happened?”
“They’re bringing Starveil back! Spartan’s alive again!”
Xander jumped to his feet and grabbed her around the waist, twirling her. “You did it!” he shouted as he set her back down again. “You really, really did it!”
The moment of joy dragged on and on, the roar of the audience slowly dissipating. Liv was grinning as she clung to Xander, so she almost didn’t notice the light that came down from above. It was—she would think later—like a sign from the divine. In fact, if she hadn’t seen her own image, wrapped in Xander’s arms, projected on the giant screen, she might not have noticed at all.
She did notice.
“Oh my God!” Liv gasped, jumping out of Xander’s arms. “We’re on-screen!”
He followed her eyes up to the screen, his expression of joy fading. The crowd’s roar had faded to a murmur.
“What in seven hells…?”
“Why, this is a surprise!” the emcee’s voice boomed. “We have someone in the audience. It’s a character a few of you will recognize.”
Xander’s blue shirt popped into focus, and the camera zoomed onto his face. He had a deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. Liv stumbled back, unable to breathe.
“It’s Major Malloy!” someone in the audience screamed.
“From Spartan Survived!” another echoed.
The excited roar of the crowd resurged. MRM stood, shading his eyes as he peered offstage.
“Well, I’ll be.” Mike laughed. “It is! Why don’t you come on up and take a bow?” He turned to the audience, reprising his role as ringmaster. “The actor who plays Malloy is in the audience. I think he deserves a round of applause—don’t you?!”
The ballroom filled with the thunderous sound of clapping. Blood rushed to Liv’s ears. Her stomach tightened until she felt like she might be sick. “Oh God,” she groaned. “I’m so sorry, Xander!”
But whatever reaction she expected from him, it wasn’t this. Xander’s face rippled, the roguish Malloy persona appearing as he swaggered up to the stairs and took the stage. The cast members and Mike R. Miles shook his hand, and Xander picked up a mic.
Malloy’s Old Terra brogue boomed through the sound system: “Your determination. Your research. Your proof of Spartan’s whereabouts are the only hope we have for Spartan’s safe return!”
The audience went wild, and it was several seconds before his amplified voice could be heard again. He grinned and bowed.
“Thank you, thank you,” Xander said, his voice returning to normal. “I truly appreciate the applause, but I’m just one part of this phenomenon. The face of Spartan Survived, if you will.”
More screaming. Joe bounced up and down like a teen at a rock concert. Alicia pursed her lips and let out a piercing whistle. Liv wanted to disappear.
Xander grinned into the camera. “Now, I don’t know if any of you realize this,” he said. “But this whole idea really came from one person…”
“No!” Liv gasped.
“She’s the driving force behind the grassroots movement that brought this franchise back, and her name is Liv Walden…”
Liv sank down in her chair, eyes wide with terror. “Please, God, no!”
“She’s sitting in the audience right now.” Xander stepped toward the stairs and offered his hand. “Come on up, Liv. You deserve this more than I do.”
The emcee’s voice interrupted. “I, for one, have never had the honor of meeting your friend Liv.” He lifted a hand to block the lights as he peered out into the crowd. “Is she here in the audience?”
Joanne jumped to her feet. “Over here!” she bellowed, arms pinwheeling. “Liv’s sitting over HERE!”
Liv shrank until she was practically reclined across the seat. “Please don’t, Joe!”
But it was too late. The cameras panned back and forth as they searched for the originator of the cry. They found Joanne pointing, an ecstatic grin on her round face.
“Stand up, Liv!” MRM shouted. “Take a bow! We all owe you more than we can say.”
Liv’s grainy face and torso appeared on the big-screen projector at the moment the entire ballroom exploded with applause. Liv’s T-shirt and the “There’s More Than One Escape Pod on a Ship” slogan were clearly visible. The audience’s cheers grew so loud Liv’s ears crackled.
At the front of the room, Tom Grander stood up in front of a roomful of his fans. “Thank you, Liv,” he said. “For all you’ve done for Starveil.”
The people in the crowd followed Tom’s move, rising to their feet around her, giving her a standing ovation. Onstage, the remaining cast stood to join Xander, applauding. If the noise had been loud before, it was three times what it had been.
“Come up, Liv!” Xander shouted. “You deserve this.”
She shook her head.
“Please, dearest!”
Liv tried to get away, but Joe and Alicia, and even Sarah, caught hold of her, the central hub of the Starveil fandom carrying her toward the stage.
“Please,” she gasped. “I can’t! I’ll die! I swear, I’ll die!” (The universe had just proved her wrong; this was, in fact, worse than the moment with Hank had ever been.)
After a half minute of shoving, Liv was at the stairs.
She looked up to discover Xander leaning down to catch her hand and help her up. Liv’s chest was so tight she could hardly breathe, but when Xander grinned at her, it eased. “Trust me,” he mouthed, and pulled her up onto the stage.
In the audience, a chant had started, and it took a moment before Liv realized they weren’t just saying “live” (as in Spartan); they were actually saying her name. Hers! They were chanting for her.
“LIV!… LIV!… LIV!… LIV!… LIV!…”
She stepped onstage.
14
“THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE.”
(THE X-FILES)
It felt like someone had flicked a switch. With Xander’s announcement, Liv Walden, computer geek, Starveil fangirl, recluse, and perennial wallflower, had been transformed into a celebrity. She was accustomed to being ignored, to having people step in her way, interrupt her midconversation, but in the space of ten minutes, the quality of her entire existence changed.
In the wake of the announcement, the audience stampeded through the ballroom. Onstage, the stars stood and were ushered offstage via the talent exit. Xander and Liv received no such offer. They stared, openmouthed, at the screaming mob.
“Xander?”
He grabbed Liv’s hand. “Door! Now!”
They went down the stairs only to be met by a sea of people, which rushed forward, catching them in its grip. Liv had never been to a rock concert before, but she had a feeling this was what a mosh pit felt like. Hands and elbows pushed and shoved, drawing her farther away from Xander until—with one jerk—his hand was knocked aside.
“LIV!”
“Xander?”
“Liv, WAIT!”
The swirling mass forced itself directly into the bubble of space Liv used to keep her anxiety at bay. People drew nearer, knocking her from side to side.
“I follow you online!” a woman shrieked. “I posted the fic where Spartan had amnesia! Did you read that? Did you?”
“I—I don’t—” Liv stammered.
“Loved your videos!” a man interrupted. “They were awesome! You in the film industry?”
“In college, actually,” Liv said, searching for an escape. She turned, but a group of young women—age fifteen or so—blocked her path.
“I was heartbroken until the Spartan Survived tag!” one cried. “You kept me going.”
“Me too!”
“How can I ever repay you?”
They pressed closer, blocking Liv’s exit.
Liv turned back the other way, panic rising. She scanned the room, hoping for a glimpse of Joanne and the rest of the Spartan troop but they’d already moved on, pushed away by the inexorable surge of people. Liv kept moving backward, but the crowd kept coming, and eventually she found herself pressed up against the wall. The mosh pit had been replaced by the zombie apocalypse.