John Smith was a self-built man, the picture-perfect success story, from the creation of his company, grand story studios, thirty years ago, he had built it up into the mega corporation it was today, all through his own efforts.
From his humble beginnings from a modest background in Texas, five friends, a computer they had 'borrowed' from their school, and a sparkle in their eyes, they had begun their dream of designing the greatest game of all time, and their first game was enough to break through the sea of mediocrity and land in the hall of the classics.
Yes, he was amazing, the numerous awards that decorated his office where enough to tell you that, but what most of his employees said made him the best was his attitude.
Every project, he would oversee to some degree, helping create the core concept, pitching in what he called his 'fair share' by helping the coders, the art and music he would leave alone though, saying 'its too darn complicated for mah humble little mind, leave it to the professionals ah say'.
Every game would be quality tested to hell and back before it would be released, making sure every mechanic felt worthwhile, and every detail polished till it shone.
Truly, John Smith was the gold standard for the industry, an idol that all aspired to be.
But right now, John was sitting at his desk, a glass full of a strong, unidentifiable cocktail of liquor in his hand, cursing at a brick wall.
"These God darn players" he said slurring his words and making his accent even more pronounced, "Ah was told they had no lives, none at all, sho how is the highest level anyone's reached *hic* gosh darn 170, it's been a month, a month, shurely they should have more free time, there kids, kids jusht want to play games *hic*"
John looked down at the glass in his hand and sighed.
"Look at ya John, sitting here in your fancy office, drinking God knows what" he took a toothpick sitting in the glass, watching the liquid below as it grasped the toothpick forming a brown string, "What ah even put in this? *sigh* mama would not be proud, not proud at all"
"Sir" came a tentative, female voice from the door to Jhon's office.
"What is it Caroline?" John asked, throwing the glass at the window, ignoring the sound of shattering glass.
"Sir, that's the third window this month" Caroline pointed out tentatively, "The window guys aren't going to be happy"
"Have them install bullet proof glass next time" John responded.
"Thats not the problem" Caroline sighed, "Please just don't let there be a lawsuit, I can't deal with another one"
"So, what did you yah need"
"Uuuh" Caroline responded, voice slightly shaking, "He's calling you"
John immediately straitened up, a serious grimace on his face.
"Get mah pod ready, cancel all mah meetings, and make sure I am, not, disturbed, you get all that"
"Yes sir" Caroline said in the tone a soldier would respond to a superior officer.
"Good" John said, heading towards his pod room.
He strode, confidently into a dimly lit room, his footstep ringing through the empty room, towards the only source of light, a spotlight, shining down from the ceiling, illuminating a luxurious pod.
He ran his fingers over the metallic surface of the pod, feeling its rough, indented frame, trailing his rough fingers over its many imperfections and wear and tear, when he had got this pod, it had been seen as ahead of its time, nowadays, it was seen as passable at best.
But john had never had the heart to get a new one, he was always told he was overly sentimental, maybe what they said right, but he would not trade this reliable beast for a gaming capsule hundreds of years ahead of its time, it just held too many memories.
He tapped the side of the pod, causing it to lift its grease stained, glass lid, revealing the leather interior, the color fading from the worn padding.
John settled down in the cramped little pod, relaxing as he felt the soft, worn leather hold him in the embrace like that of an old lover, or a dear friend you have not seen for years.
But John could not relax, after all, he was going to meet with 'him'.
"Activate start up sequence" John boomed in a commanding voice, the voice receptors where a bit busted, so you had to yell while giving commands.
The uncomfortable feeling of having his entire body crushed into a box and being tossed into a bin.
When he emerged, he found himself in a mirror of his office, even the blemishes on the walls where mirrored, someone even had the decency to update the window, good, it was getting a little hot around here.
John sat down at his desk, thousands of eye-catching applications appearing Infront of him, he ignored each and every one, instead clicking on the icon for the latest game from his company.
And the crushing feeling was back.
When he emerged into that seemingly infinite library, he scowled, this place always made him feel dirty, it was the one place he had no freedom to create, it was the only place in this game that was not his, a parasite on his marvelous creation.
His skin had turned an angry shade of red, and if he had a mirror, he would have found black and gold eyes, white hair, and a singular horn, poking through his fringe, glowing red lines covering it.
He was wearing a grey, pin striped suit, a dull grey waist coat, a cleanly pressed shirt, neatly ironed grey trouser that matched his suit and waist coat, and shining black shoes, a grey fedora sat comfortably on his head, constantly being propped slightly upwards by his horn.
He looked like a mafioso, john personally didn't care much for the get up, but 'He' said he liked the aesthetic, "made us look like a group of devils that would offer a skewed contract" he said.
'He' could shove a stick up his ass for all John cared though.
"Now that's not very nice" A cheery voice came from behind, filled with mock hurt and anguish, "And here I thought we were getting along like two peas in a pod"
John froze, there were only two times he where he would act in such a way, either he was in an amazing mood, or he was pissed.
There was silence for a moment, before John heard a faint chuckle.
"How perceptive of you" the figure said, patting John on the shoulder with his sky-blue hand, moving past john, his floor length hair flowing behind him, "Walk with me John"
"Yes sir" John responded in a fearful tone, following closely in the Librarian's footsteps, making sure not to tread on his hair, "What did you want, Sir?"
John had never really been able to get used to The Librarians appearance, his sky-blue skin gave him an other-worldly feel, his ears stuck out of his head like daggers, his proportions were human but not at the same time, as if a child had chosen the length of his limbs, familiar, but at the same time distorted, and his mouth, while human on the outside, was filled with a row of pearly white fangs, like the jaw of a predator, he was like a mockery of a human, crudely stitched together by an armature.
"Please, use my name" the Librarian said with a wave of his hand, "we've known each other for long enough"
"But..." John stuttered slightly.
"But it's so long" John replied in a joking manner, he always been able to keep a level head, no matter the situation, "it's jus' too gosh darn long fah me, 'ave never been that good with names"
"You know John" the Librarian replied in a honeyed tone, "I'm observant too, your accent gets worse when you get 'gosh darn' nervous. Sir is fine"
They walked in silence for a few minutes, John not daring to speak up.
"Do you know why I'm angry?" the Librarian suddenly asked.
"Pard'n" John responded, taken aback.
"Why am I angry John? Simple enough question, I know why I'm angry, but I want to know if you knew that what you did was wrong"
Darn, he couldn't have found out that he had been helping demi-gods, could he.
"I was wrong" the Librarian sneered, "You aren't observant, well, at least you know what you did"
The Librarian turned away from the bewildered John to gaze lovingly at the shelves, with the same look a mother would give their child.
"Do you know what I love the most, what the only thing that allows me to keep my sanity within this shit show of a planet?" The librarian asked.
"Stories" The Librarian responded, throwing his arms wide for dramatic effect, not bothering to wait for an answer, "Stories are what keep me going, the twists, the betrayals, the romance, the drama, the thrill of not knowing what comes next, do you enjoy stories? Please, take a seat, I would love to hear your answer"
John was taken aback to find a pair of cozy armchairs where nothing had been before, a small coffee table between the two, a warm mug of tea placed carefully in the center.
"You drink much tea?" The Librarian asked innocently.
"Can't say ah do" John responded, with an air of innocence that rivaled The Librarians.
"Well then, never too late to start, right?"
"Ah guess"
"Good, good" The Librarian chirped, "An open mind is good, very good. So, my question?"
"Well," John replied, "who doesn't like a good story, my ma' always used to tell me stories like 'the three pigs' when I was little"
"And what about when you grew up?"
"Well, ah did like to sneak in a cheeky book here and there, when ah wasn't busy of course"
"Any favorites?"
"Well, ah have always had a liking for 'Mortal engines'"
"Oh, do continue"
"Well, I like the struggle between the two main characters, especially the female lead, the mental she forces onto herself is tragic, and the guilt of some of the things she does in the books causing a rift between her and the male lead makes for a journey one can get invested in, despite the far out setting"
"Ah, so you enjoy it because of the struggles the characters go through, and how they overcome them, right?"
"In a way, yes"
"So then, I have a question"
"Ask away"
"What is the best way to ruin the struggles of the main character?"
"Uhh" John responded, bewildered, unsure what to make of the question.
"It's to guarantee safety" The Librarian continued, not caring to wait for John's response, venom dripping from his words, "Of course, the hero must succeed if their life is on the line, the hero can't die halfway through the story after all, but there should at least be stakes, and the reader must be fooled into thinking the hero might lose. What you have done is to destroy that sense of threat, your meddling could have ruined my story"
"P-pard'n" John stuttered, "ah don' quite follow"
"Why did you think I'm doing all this?" The Librarian spat, his voice becoming a low growl, "A joke, stress relief, boredom?"
As The Librarian spoke, his skin began to shrivel and crack like drying dirt, the top layer of skin beginning to fold in on itself like dried wallpaper, under the many cracks, John could see eyes similar to the Librarians staring directly at him, Dagger like ears twitched slightly whenever he made any movement and shark like teeth grinned malicious smiles.
"I don't have to spell it out to you do I John" The Librarian uttered in a hushed tone; in the same way one would explaining a complex concept to a three-year-old that had pestered you nonstop to explain, "you're not that slow, are you, John?"
"N-no s-s-sir" John stuttered, the words struggling to form in his mouth.
"Really?" The Librarian responded in a flippant tone while letting out a sigh, a look of disappointment etched into his face, "because I'm not sure that you really understand how badly you fucked up, maybe I should move forward the deadline"
"No" John blurted out, "a-ah understand sir, ah won't be causing yah any more trouble, ah swear it"
"Hmmmmmmm" The librarian wore a look of mock contemplation, and even though the eyes on his face removed their gaze from John, the eyes underneath his skin never broke eye contact with John, as if darting John to look away, they didn't blink either, their stare was never ending.
"Well," The Librarian suddenly said, returning to a chipper tone, his skin returning to its previous semi-normality, "I guess I can forgive you just this once"
"But remember," The Librarian continued, a menacing glint in his eye, "No second chances"
John nodded in silent agreement, his hands shaking slightly.
"Oh dear John" The Librarian suddenly exclaimed, causing John to jump slightly, "You haven't touched your tea, drink up, wouldn't want it to get cold now, would we"
"N-no thank you" John said, calming down slightly from the shock, "ah really must get ta going, work and things, you understand, don't cha'"
However, John found himself unable to move, let alone move, it was as though he was nailed to the chair.
"That is a shame," The Librarian responded in a voice of disappointment, though the smile etched onto his face betrayed him, "And I prepared it especially for you, mint tea your favourite"
John picked up the cup and downed its contents in one gulp, gagging slightly at the flavour, he despised mint with a passion.
"Well, if tha's all" John continued hurriedly, the force keeping him down suddenly lifting. Quickly waving goodbye, John booked it as fast as he could from that 'thing'.
The 'thing' in question watched bemused as John ran in such a hurry that he tripped over his own feat and landed face first into the wooden floor.
"Come back again sometimes" The Librarian called after the rapidly fleeing John, "Let's meet again as friends rather than business partners"
Once John had moved out of The Librarians vison, he leaned back in the comfy armchair, staring at the ceiling.
As he gazed upwards, a massive, ear-to-ear grin split across his face, and his mouth and eyes seemed to retract from his face, leaving an empty void were his mouth and eyes should have been, a massive grin still etched into his face, almost like a mask.
"What a nice man" a faint echo came from behind the face, the sound leaking out of the mouth and eyes, his hand reaching for the cup of tea. The Librarian poured the entire cup through his massive, empty grin.
"Aaaahhhh" a long sigh came from behind the mask, "Nothing like the taste of earl grey"