Page 69 of Foes & Cons
VIGGO RASSMUSSEN
It’s right there, Lila. Right there.
LILA MURPHY
What is? Tell me what’s there!
VIGGO RASSMUSSEN
You are.
Vampire Falls. Season two, episode ten – “Death Cannon Kill”
My Trip to San Diego Comic Con and Megan Nicole Jefferies. ROUND TWO.
I close my eyes and imagine myself doing this in my sleep, or in a dream, like Fake McKinley said. The steps and cues scrawled across Roxy’s clipboard are scrawled across the darkness in my mind and I see myself doing each movement like I have on my Insta reels so many times, but with higher stakes.
The quiet pulls me into its calm and I picture everyone turned to stone, unable to make a sound; they just have to sit and enjoy. I open my eyes and a Headset Gal steps from the shadows on the other side of the stage and nods at me. I nod back. She nods at a Curtain Guy who heaves the rope he’s clutching, and light slices through the curtains and the black space in front of me.
I look over my shoulder and give Team Awesome a smile.
“Let’s fucking do this,” I whisper to them, but more to myself.
I’m still hidden in the shadows and glance at Headset Gal who’s holding up her hand. I look down at my boots, focusing on the right stance, feet apart, head down. Headset Gal stage whispersfive . . .
four . . .
three . . .
two . . .
and one!
Lights flash above me, presenting me to Conference Hall A, and the music starts with a bang and no apologies, straight into that guitar. The crowd, who I still can’t see, erupt when they recognise my costume, and the sound of their applause is like a firework under my backside. I fight the urge to partake with a spot of air guitar but pump my knee along with each crash of the cymbal, like I’m revving myself up to go.
I move forwards, keeping in time so I get to the first mark Fake McKinley has stuck down for me, then I slowly pull out my sword just as I come alongside the first drum, then hit the skin with the bottom of the handle in perfect timing with the song.
This is my call. This is my passion.
Thunder . . .
I glance up, and a few people in the audience have stood up from their seats, light squares waving around as they film me. I keep moving forward, my sword trailing in my hand until I reach the next drum. I pull out my other sword and smack the drum with its handle in time to the music.
Thunder . . .
I move back and forth between the drums, looking out at the audience as I hit the drums with my swords. The song winds us up like a tightly coiled spring, until the lyrics scream out from the speakers. I cross my swords down in front of me, then thrust them outwards and spin around, executing the moves I’ve spent hours of my life studying on YouTube videos by Megan Nicole Jefferies’ stuntwoman, Helen Yates, breaking down her favourite moves. I remember her saying the fight scenes were like a dance, so I focus on my steps and my hands, moving together in perfect sync.
I move down the stage until I reach the runway, where I see Roxy sloping towards me, dragging a sword along the floor. I holster one of my swords, then hold my breath, take a run-up, and somersault off the runway, landing in front of her.
Yes, I said somersault. You weren’t expecting that were you?
Neither were they.
I flip the sword in my hand, trying not to let the audience’s screams crack my game-face, and look at Roxy, dressed in black and ready for combat. Totally breaking character, she beams at me but makes the first strike like she has in our combat reels and like we practised this afternoon. We swing our swords through the air and the blades flash under the lights. The choreography takes us down to the dance floor so we’re right in front of the audience, who watch me like I’m about to take flight.
I take a running leap and hop onto a chair, my foot right between the guy’s legs. He whoops as I jump over him onto the table, then I grab the beer he’s holding and take a swig. The music is just audible above the screaming of the audience, and I run across the table, leaping over the guests (who naturally duck the fuck out of the way) to the next, and the next – Roxy running along next to me on the dance floor until I jump from the final table, swinging my sword through the air and hitting her (not really) in the stomach. She falls to the ground, a worthy opponent, defeated (still beaming).
I turn to the audience, throwing out some high fives but still not breaking character as I walk round to the other side of the runway, looking up at Fake McKinley who’s skulking towards me, a sword in each hand. I’ve never fought with him before, but I can tell by the way he’s holding his weapons this isn’t the first time he’s handled a sword. His face is stern; he’s taking this seriously. Another worthy opponent.
