Hannah McCallister had always wanted to be special.
From the moment of her birth, through the drudgery of school and the uncertain climb towards adulthood, it had always been the same.
Losing herself in stories had been the only reprieve. Every day, she faced the names: Greyhound, Grey Goose, and even Gray's Anatomy at one point, when the bullies had gotten lazy. She had drifted away, into worlds where you didn't need magic to be badass.
But the memory wouldn't go away.
She had been four years old, sitting in a small, sterile white office alongside her mother. The walls had been covered in charts and diagrams of the human body, a desk set into the corner next to the door, a whirring computer atop it. It had smelled strange, like the floor cleaner her mother used. Behind the desk had been an old man. He was slim, with white hair and a droopy face, a pair of spectacles resting atop a round nose.
Sitting in a leather chair, he directed a somber gaze at her mother over a clipboard. "I'm afraid it's as we feared. Your daughter suffers from a chronic case of blandness."
Andrea bared her teeth, her nostrils flaring. "I'm sorry, what?"
The doctor coughed uncomfortably. "Yes, well, unfortunately the lack of colour is just a symptom of the bigger problem – that being that Hannah is, naturally, the kind of person who fades into the background."
Andrea gawked. "But what does that mean?"
He put his hand on her shoulder, casting a mournful gaze over the tiny, grey Hannah. "Hannah will never be able to be a main character."
She sighed, deep enough that she could consider a new career as a leaf blower. "Well, thank heavens for that! Main characters are always getting stabbed, or blasted; I'm just glad it's not something serious."
But for Hannah, it had been. That one sentence had shattered her entire world, and murdered her dreams before they could bloom.
She was numb.
Not the doctor's reassurances of a 'normal life', nor the lollipop he gave her, nor her mother's infinite relief could bring her back to reality.
She would live in misery, as the blurred grey backdrop to a world of vivid colour.
After that, a permanent scowl had overtaken her sharp features, and soon nobody wanted to approach her, except to call her names. But that was fine. She had her stories; tales of great heroes and valiant warriors, powering through every hardship and winning in the end. There were no limits but for her imagination, and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Then it occurred to her: there was still hope. Even if she was cursed with blandness, she didn't have to stay like that; by her actions, she could colour herself in, a centimetre at a time.
She skipped university, as protagonists needed hardship and trauma, and decided to enter society on the bottom rung. She figured she could work in retail, or hospitality; one of those professions where every day is a living hell.
Or so she'd overheard.
And on the way home from her latest unsuccessful interview, she had seen her chance. Cutting through an alley in the dark was usually unthinkable for a woman, but nobody ever noticed her anyway.
It was the same with the vampire. A tall man with slick black hair, in a high-collared cloak, had been dragging a young woman god-knows-where. She hadn't been struggling much; maybe she was unconscious.
Regardless, Hannah had seen her chance. She could be a hero.
Imploring the vampire to take her instead, she had thrown his captive behind her, intent on her safety. This was the kind of thing protagonists did. Surely, she could find a way out.
He had agreed, much to the consternation of his former captive, who had lobbed an expletive-laden rant at them.
"Do you know how long I've waited to meet a vampire? We were supposed to f*cking f*ck! He's supposed to be sucking me in every way possible, you thieving bitch!"
Her face had dropped, the tears streaming freely. This wasn't supposed to happen. It hit her that she wasn't a protagonist, she never would be, and there wouldn't be a magic way out.
Her dream was gone for good.
***
Staring at Hannah, Jack's face cycled through several expressions, before settling on pinched bemusement. "Should I be laughing, or crying?"
Russ shook his head, a sober look in his eyes. "I'm sorry I asked."
By the bar, a vampire in a suit was tiptoeing away, making a beeline for the fire door through which he had entered. Lydia's head snapped around, a slashing glare halting him in his tracks.
"Oh, no you don't!" She stalked across the furniture-scattered floor, her teeth bared.
He turned his head robotically, inching its way until his gaze met hers and his blood joined his body in freezing. "Um, I only had a drink, so I'm just going to-"
She grabbed him by the collar, not caring that he was a foot taller than her. Dragging him down, she snarled. "Listen, you rat, I've had quite enough of this silly city, and I've wasted enough time playing stupid games. Now tell me where you're keeping my sister."
"Please don't call me a rat." His eyelids were quivering. "It's very hurtful. I'm a self-aware being with thoughts and feelings, and it's degrading to be compared to-"
He clamped his mouth shut when she raised a hand, bunching it into a fist.
"I'm against violence!" he cried.
"Can't do it in here, anyway." Russ was ambling around the barroom, picking up furniture and returning it to its original position. Though he had reverted to human form, he had yet to replace his clothes, and a thick slapping reverberated with every step. Looking at Lydia, he said, "and please don't set Ward off again."
"Would you put some clothes on?" said Jack, grimacing.
Lydia squeezed Gamey's cheeks. "Tell me where my sister is!"
"Ow! How does this not count as violence? Wait!" He held up his arms in surrender, his face red and puffy. "Why don't we play a game?"
Jack had to rush forward and hold Lydia back, her teeth grinding as she stared at Gamey in mania. "What did I just say?" Wriggling from his grip, she aimed an elbow at Jack's crotch, a shiver of disgust running through her at his touch.
He stumbled away, his forehead creasing as his mouth went wide. "I'll give you the chair shot, but that was uncalled for!"
Folding her arms, she looked away. "Don't touch me."
Gamey tittered, eying her nervously. "If you win, I'll tell you everything I know."
She adopted a thoughtful expression, one eyebrow quirked. How long would the game take? How long would it take to force answers from him? "And what if you win?"
He held his index and middle finger upside down, wiggling them. "Then I walk out of here."
She pursed her lips and nodded. "That seems fair."
Jack blinked. "Hang on, I thought you just said you were done playing games?"
She shrugged. "Saves me torturing him."
"What now?"
"Interrogating him. It saves me interrogating him."
He narrowed his eyes. "That's definitely not what you said..."
She looked at Gamey. "Then what's your game?"
He grinned, pulling a deck of colourful cards from his shirt pocket. "Future Magic King: The Congregation!"
"What?" said Jack, his expression exhausted.
The barmaid - who had to that point been browsing Tweeter on her phone - groaned. "Russ, it's happening again!"
Russ sighed, returning the last table to its upright position. "I know."
"Can't you change the settings, or something?"
He threw his arms out to his sides. "They're ancient runes, Alicia; I don't even understand them!"
Jack shuddered. "Do I even wanna know?"
Gamey cocked his head at Lydia. "I have a spare deck, if you need one."
She sneered. "Don't be ridiculous; a real Future Magic King always keeps her deck with her." From her jacket, she drew a leather box with a flap at the top, and a logo printed on it.
"That's what they call the players?" said Hannah, who was still trying to look at anything but Russ, her cheeks tinged with crimson. "That's way too long."
Gamey ignored her, sitting at the nearest table and placing his deck in front of him. "Shall we?"
Lydia sat across from him, staring down her nose, and took her own cards from the box. "I hope you're ready to lose."
He smirked. "I could say the same. You face the British regional champion, Gamuel King!"
Snorting, Jack put his hand over his mouth. "Who names their child Gamuel?"
"You can talk," said Hannah.
Lydia drew her opening hand, staring at Gamey with intensity. The rules were simple: one started with five cards, and drew one on each of their turns. At the beginning, one card was assigned as the King; the one that could win or lose it for them.
She had no choice but to win. Even under interrogation, he might not have broken, but an FMK was true to their word. If she won, he'd tell her everything.
She could finally find Jess.
Pushing the bitterness back down her throat, she readied to reveal her King. "Ready?"
Gamey did the same. "Ready."
They flipped over their cards.
"Detecting game. Switching to projection mode."
Jack yelled in frustration. "Not this again! It's bad enough that you're deciding the outcome with a children's card game."
Beside each of them, a figure flashed into existence. Gamey's was a girl with white hair and a peculiar necklace, vampiric red eyes boring into Lydia's King.
Staring at it, Jack felt his bowels try to evacuate. "Not him again! How have this game's creators not been sued yet?"
He was a slim boy with spiky hair, and a sword nearly as big as he was. He gazed at Gamey's King with a cocky smirk.
"I'm first." Lydia drew a card.
"Aren't you supposed to flip a coin or something?" said Jack.
"I give my King the Gunner servant!" Lydia slapped her card on the table, next to the Cloud card, and beside him on the field a man arose – he was massive, with dark skin and a beard. There was a minigun attached to his right arm. "And since I can't attack on my first turn, I'll end it there."
Gamey drew, throwing it on top of his King without looking. "I equip Noka with the Vampiric Arms. Her battle power rises by ten, to twenty-five!" A shining sceptre appeared in the hologram's hands.
Jack crossed his arms. "Still not the biggest rod I can see."
Lydia inhaled through her teeth. Her highest battle power was Gunner, with a twenty, and she had nothing in her hand to stop him.
"And now Noka attacks your King!"
The projection thrust the sceptre above its head, twirling it as she stomped repeatedly on the ground. There was no noise, or vibration, but an air of danger washed over Lydia as her heartbeat jumped, her breathing becoming ragged as she stared intently at her cards.
Noka kicked her King in the nuts. He fell to his knees, retching, and jammed his sword into the ground to support himself.
"Lydia sustains critical damage. Remaining life points: three."
Jack gripped his temples. "How does this even work? What are the rules? How many life points did you start with? I'm so confused!"
Lydia felt a throbbing in her crotch; she coughed, groaning. "What the hell is this? Why does it hurt so much?"
Russ gave a defeated sigh. "That would be Ward. We had a few geeks try to play one of those card games once, and they never did it again. It connects them to the cards, or something."
Hannah squinted. "Sounds like your ancient runes have been watching too much King of Games."
He rubbed the back of his head. "I don't think you quite understand how runes work."
"More importantly," said Jack, growling, "pants."
Russ looked down. "Oh, yeah."
He palmed his face. "'Oh, yeah' my ass! You've been like that for the entire chapter!"
Russ shrugged, leaving through the front door.
Hannah's face distorted. "I hope he's not going outside."
The pain had begun to subside, and Lydia scowled at Gamey. She had no cards that could help, barely any life points, and a distracting dullness driving up through her. She needed to win. If not, there was no hope of finding Jess.
It all depended on what she drew next.
To be continued...
"Whaddya mean, to be continued?" screeched Jack. "You can't just end it like that, no-one needs a cliff-hanger here! Why are we taking a children's card game so seriously?! Oi. Oi!"