On 31 January 2018, these three words were chosen:
And these blurbs were written within five minutes….Enjoy!
“But I don’t understand why you threw the ball of slime at him!” I shouted at Angela while dragging her along behind me down the alley. “You just started a war!”
“Don’t be such a killjoy,” Angela retorted, turning around quickly and raising her shield up just in time to deflect the arrows the angry mob had shot at us. They tinkled across the metal and skittered to a stop on the ground nearby. I was sure they were tipped with poison. You didn’t throw things in the face of the most beloved prince of all time and get away with it. If even a fraction of the people on the street heard what she had done, we’d be dead in minutes. “He totally deserved it,” Angela continued, sweeping her shield down and using it to parry another volley of arrows from behind us. She moved the arm I was gripping quickly, swinging me out and around the corner in front of her, protecting my body with her own.
“How could he possibly have deserved it?” I shrieked. “Prince Lars is the best thing to happen to this kingdom in centuries!”
“Ha!” Angela snorted, letting me go for a moment as she drew her broadsword. “If you only knew,” she said smugly. “Throwing slime in his face is the nicest thing I could do to him.”
I inspected the slime on the counter. It was a light green with a hint of an orange glow periodically, or were those hairs? It was the oddest thing I’d seen in a long time. I was familiar with Joy Slugs, the killjoys that they were, but they left a light silver trail, not this mammoth hairy green trail. I looked at the barkeep.
“You say it was left by a person?”
“No, I said it was like a person, like a fraction of a person.”
“Can you help me out, man? Like what does that even mean? A fraction of a person…” I muttered to myself. How was I supposed to get to the bottom of this murder when the only witness is talking in circles.
“I mean, it was a weird blue man thing that looked slightly like a person.” The barkeep seemed to be as frustrated as me.
“Ok, well, tell me again what the man thing did, after he entered the bar and walked up to the deceased.”
“He took Hal’s beer mug, sniffed it and then broke it over Hal’s head.
“Shevin?” Jaden called again, a little louder this time, his heart thundering in his chest. A figure stepped out of the darkness, but it was too short to be the wizard. It also wasn’t wearing the luminescent uniform of an Ember Guard. “Hello?” Jaden said hesitantly, gripping the hilt of the knife in his belt. “Oh, don’t do that,” a cheerful voice tainted with the slime of cruelty spoke up. “It wouldn’t do you any good anyway.” “Where’s Shevin?” Jaden asked, his voice wavering slightly as he searched the shadows hoping the wizard would appear and rescue him. “It seems your protector has deserted you,” the figure laughed. “I don’t know why you would choose to go with him anyway. He’s such a killjoy, all that duty and honor nonsense he’s so fond of spouting, and yet, when it comes to it, he runs away and leaves his charge to fend for himself. If only he truly believed but a fraction of what he said, but alas, this world is no place for saints, and eventually the darkness will reign supreme in everyone.” “That’s not true,” Jaden said. “Oh? And how would you know that?” The figure stepped forward and raised its hood revealing eyes like Shevin’s clear silver orbs, but rimmed in red fire.
“That virtue signalling slimey smarmy bitch is such a killjoy. If she had a fraction of the humility and good graces she claims, she’d have saved the world already,” Geneva said, as she chucked her things onto the passenger seat.
“Whatever, I’m over it already”, I said, as I dropped my party favor next to her stuff on the seat, while the chair lift helped Geneva into the back seat.
We’d shown up at Laurie’s baby shower with a gift that was on the registry, only to find out that our much reviled hostess Becca had been making everyone donate to a save the bees charity in Laurie’s name, but neither of us had come prepared. So, when Becca announced the donation, she’d pointedly stared down those who didn’t contribute. A sum total of two folks, me and Geneva. Thanks for the warning, bitch.
She’d given us last pick of the lottery, fewer raffle tickets, etc. People had shunned us all through teh shower.
As we drove away, I congratulated myself on how well I’d handled it. I had known not to show my pain. I smiled, laughed, and talked about how great the shower was, while Geneva had been looking at me in puzzlement. I knew how to play the long game.
I was going to volunteer to be Becca’s hostess when that wheel rolled around. She had just announced she was pregnant on Instagram, after all.
Killjoys, that’s what we were called. It wasn’t a name we came up with ourselves, but we were mercenaries and hired to bring people in. Most of the time, we would crash social events or the occasional late night “social” call, so the name was given to us. Tonight’s mission started out no differently than most. We had to bring in Mr. Ting, a well-known bio chemist in criminal circles, but he had been tipped off and we found ourselves in a trap. Surrounding us was toxic white slime and touching it would cause serious pain or even death. “Don’t move a fraction,” I yelled at Varin, as one more step would have put her in immediate harm.
“You are such a killjoy,” Olivia muttered, moving the barrel of her assault rifle away from the baby’s face. “Are you really suggesting that I—”
“Yes, I am,” replied Charles. “That is a monster thing to do.”
Olivia looked around at the small isolated town they’d entered not two hours ago, at the burning houses, and the destroyed cars, at the literal ten-foot-high pile of bodies. “Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.” Charles pushed on the side of her gun, forcing it down. “We leave this one alive.”
“Really? Really…” She let the gun fully fall now. “What if it grows up to be the hero of the people and seek revenge, or something.”
“That only happens a fraction of the time, anyway. And—even when they do, it’s often just a virtue signaling little power boy slime, who can make fire with his hands or something. I’ve killed ten this week.”
“You do see the hypocrisy of that right? You just admitted to wanton murder, but one baby is too much?”
“Yes.” Charles frowned at her. “I only kill over eighteen-year-old children.”
“Killjoy,” she muttered again.