Episode 12: Death, Sex, and Milwaulkee (Part 2)

I gazed under half-lidded eyes at the bustle of people moving back and forth in front of the booth. The lightning domes and lack of sleep where having a hypnotic effect on me.

"Wake up, knucklehead." Gareth rattled my chair and my eyes popped open. The flood of sensory overload returned me to the show floor. Gen Con.

Gareth loomed over the tables like a gladiator, decked out in his UnderWorld costume. Lord Steam. Goggles, vest, and gruff demeanor.

Well, maybe it wasn’t ALL costume.

"Still&hung& over&" I mumbled. I knew it was no excuse, but there wasn’t a whole lot more I could offer by way of explanation.

"Yeah, and I had to sleep through your snoring like some kinda beached animal. Cry me a river." He smirked and re-shuffled the books on the counter.

"Sorry I’m late!" Lisa , our newest initiate, hurried toward the booth. She bears the dubious title of fashion designer for S.C.S. Most game companies don’t have a fashion designer, but most game companies aren’t us. We brought her along last minute in an attempt to get people to associate Synister with clothing as well and RPG’s and music, and it seemed to be working. However, she wasn’t making it easy to concentrate.

"Is that& all& rubber?" I squeaked, trying to figure out where to look so as to not betray the downright vile things I was thinking while looking at her in that outfit.

I failed.

"Yes, it’s all rubber. Except for the backpack. That’s plastic. You know, sci-fi Saturday?"

"Uh huh. What are you supposed to be?"

"I’m the Mullet Hunter! " She pulled out a toy raygun and snapped off a couple shots for emphasis. "Rednecks and geeks beware."

"You’re gonna be pretty damned busy. "

Suddenly, I was distracted by a kid in a Slipknot shirt asking what was playing on our radio.

"Method Man" I answered.

"Who?"

"Method Man! Tikal? Johnny Blaze? Hot Nickels?"

He looked at me like I was insane.

"Wu Tang Clan."

This seemed to elicit a response.

"Oh. That’s cool., man. That’s cool. "

He bought a book and left. I turned to look at Gareth who was wearing a grin that seemed to start on the back of his head. UnderWorld was doing Gangbusters, and despite being tired, he was to proud of his baby to let anything so paltry as sleep deprivation bring him down. He Shuffled over to let Lisa set up her jewelry rack.

"How’re we doin’?" I asked. It felt strange, this being my second Gen Con ever and I was here with a booth and a book and everything. I wanted to make sure I was doing it right.

Gareth gave me a thumbs-up and pointed to the others who were coming into the hall.

Clayton made a beeline for Lisa and obediently helped her set up. Peet, Josh and Frank were sharing a joke, and Delmar came in behind them, towering over just about everyone on the show floor.

"Show me somethin’!" He quipped.

"I got you, man." I retorted, holding up the sales sheet..

"Yuh!"

Meanwhile, Josh and Frank stood with Peet and Clayton, laughing at their yo-yo. In Pennsyltucky (as Jersey calls it behind it’s back ) we had stopped off at an all-night restaurant that also sold knicknacks and toys. Clayton had found a Yo-yo that made noise when you spun it, but the real fun was the packaging, which had some of the absolute worst English translations anyone had ever seen, and provided nine-tenths of the amusement the entire trip. The box promised that "this sporting yo yo brings happy time" and included instructions on how to "Walk automatically the Dogger" and "Make inside the triangle ok with hand." However, there were ample warnings, for example, not to throw the yo-yo without aiming and to under no circumstances decompose the yo-yo.

A good time was had by all.

"SEAN!"

I jumped.

"You’re coming to my demo tonight, RIIIIIGHT?"

Startled, I turned around to see Graveyard Greg standing behind me. My brain was still parsing the fact that this guy wasn’t a cartoon who hung around all day in a green and white Danskin with a wisecracking blue droid and an unusually pert brunette. Also, he wore a hat. That totally threw me. Outside of that, though, what you’re thinking is most likely dead on. A ball of energy in perpetual con mode with glasses and a obsession for all things GAME. GG is almost a living archetype.

"Uhh..yeah! Yeah! Of course." I stammered.

"Good! Good."

I couldn’t miss it, he’d been putting the thumbscrews to my curiosity for months.

Suddenly, I saw a familiar face from behind him.

Nick.

"Oh& Uh& can you cover for me here for a sec?"

"Sure," he said, plopping down in a chair to take the weight off his bum foot. I hurried out of the booth over to where Nick stood. He was grinning like a fanboy.

Nick Van Zandt stood before me wearing his signature sportcoat over a tattered old "Wraith" T-shirt. He held an open backback with D&D3, Pantheon, and The Great Brain Robbery, as well as a somewhat rare Obi-Wan Kenobi figure and a bootleg copy of Princess Mononoke. I handed him a copy of UnderWorld and The Last Exodus promo.

"This is GREAT!"

"You are SUCH a geek" I said, pointing at his backpack.

"Bite me." He smirked. " I wanna get some In Nomine stuff. Walk with me."

"In Nomine? Isn’t that a little too close to work?"

"I have a Dominion friend who would pay through the nose for it."

"I guess you would."

He rifled through the Last Exodus Promo.

"Hey! " he beamed. "You gave me credit!"

"Well, it was YOUR information. I just made a game out of it."

"Still, it was nice of you. Let’s cut through the castle. SJG should be over here, by Atlas, right?"

"Right& Hang on."

I walked over to the Gaming Outpost booth and covered my badge.

"Hey, Gaming Outpost!"

"Yeah."

"Yer stuff rocks!"

"Well, Thanks! We try to&-"

"But fire that guy. That Jaffe guy. GAWD I hate him. He thinks he’s so cool. But I’ll bet he’s fat and lame and never talks to strippers or drinks or listens to Kid Rock or anything"

"Well, we&uh&"

"And his dumb game is probably just an exercise in being offensive for it’s own sake, which is really pedantic. I mean, yeah, right, "The Last Exodus." Messiahs and Antichrists, like that could really happen. The guy is a sleazebag. I’ll bet he’s gay too. Axe him. I hate fags. Totally."

"Well, I just work here& I don’t&"

"Trust me, that guy is the worst thing that could happen to gaming. Like that McCracken wanna-be guy."

Nick grabbed my shoulder and yanked me hard.

"I like to beat my hecklers to the punch, so I’ve been doing that all week." I told him. "Anyway, why the rush?"

"Because we’re meeting somebody."

"Who?"

"Him."

He pointed at a gaunt, rail-thin rivethead who stood near the concessions stand with a coke and a cigarette. His platinum hair was meticulously braided into fine cords, and he surveyed the convention with one green and one blue eye. He wore an aged Machines Of Loving Grace t-shirt and vinyl pants. His boots came up to his knees and he wore mirrored polish on his long, sharp nails. His angular face dripped with sardonic cruelty, and a shudder came over me as I spoke his name.

"Gideon."

"You got it. C’mon, Sean. Time to meet your first Antichrist." Gideon radiated contempt, and his icy gaze settled on me as I approached. He smiled like he was being approached by a lost child. As he opened his mouth to speak, however, someone tugged his shirt and pointed.

"You seen Micah?" The guy asked.

Gideon threw his spidery hands up in defeat.

"How many times to I have to tell you people?! I am NOT with the Apophis Consortium!"

Gideon turned to me as the guy hurried off.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sean. I’m Gideon, Cerebral of the Chain, and former servant of the Caliph."

The sudden realization that I was talking with an individual who had MET Madison Vaughn stuck in my throat as a solid lump of glue.

"Benedict, the Cerebral of Secrets. Judas goat of the Chain. Betrayer of the Sanhedrin. I know all of your titles."

I swallowed.

"Sir."

"Wow, this dream suggestion thing actually works," He smiled as Nick made his best "I-told-you-so" face. "Tell me, "game designer", do you know why I’m here?"

"You’re gonna give me the information you have on the Sanhedrin and the Antichrists?"

"He’s a smart one, Nicholas." Gideon withdrew a similar stack of papers from his shoulder bag and handed it to me.

"There are people who would make you watch as they boiled your family in their own bodily wastes if they knew you had this information. And that’s if they were feeling charitable that day."

I took the papers as my stomach went into knots.

"Now I am going outside to finish my smoke. If I hear one more witty movie quote I swear I‘ll kill every producer in Hollywood with an effects budget."

I let him pass.

"Charming guy."

"Waddaya want? The guy’s an Antichrist. He’s genetically configured to be a dick."

"But he comes through in a clutch," I said, leafing through the papers.

"There’s some really disturbing shit here. The Tonton Makouts are all genderless?"

"Snip, snip, stitch, stitch. Processing, it is a bitch."

"Yikes."

He watched me leaf through the papers a bit, then grinned his trademark grin.

"So, is Nichole here?"

"No, Romeo, she coulnd’t come. "

His face fell.

"Why?"

"Bad back&slipped a disk or something, actually. She’s supposed to go to the hospital so they can&-"

"Go to the WHAT?!"

"Hospital?"

"Damn! " Pulled out a smooth piece of plastic that looked like a cellphone and started barking into it in some foreign language. Seemed like he was saying something about transportation."

"She could be in BIG trouble. I’m gonna go back and take care of her. You and yours gotta stay here, Okay, Sean? Make like nothing's wrong. And you never saw Gideon."

"Saw who?"

"Right& I’ll let you know what it’s safe to talk about us again. Make sure you don’t lose that information, okay?" He stumbled as he walked backward for the door. "I have faith in you guys- make sure you hold in to that info!"

And with that he bolted. I turned and headed for the booth, sweating a little bit.

This was getting pretty hectic for only being my second Gen Con.