[Private] The Verdant Creed

Meanwhile, in the Have A. Hart offices...


It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be that much better...The competition wasn’t supposed to be that good...Everything was going to fall into place. At a glance it was supposed to be obvious. But the story didn’t come together that way.

Archie had only been able to make this happen because of time and effort spent investing in people. Creating connections. Building allies. It had paid off and been the in that he had needed to put this all together, and it was work torn down with a simple touch. A touch from the guest that Archie had vouched for. It tore through him, it was the fifth time watching the simplest touch, his eyes closed tightly and jaw clenched, his head notching to the left back and forth as he tried to process the events, trying to reconcile what was unfolding.

Eye open he rewound once more, hitting play. He was watching the understudy work, capture the attention, own the stage.

The glass shattered on the wall beside the TV, the Fairest now standing and having just thrown the cup.

“What are you doing! I told you, I explained it, and gave you the whole script!”

He walked towards the television burying his face in both his palms before pushing his fingers through his hair as he approached the screen.

“You knew who we were going to pick, and you were supposed to pick the right vessels along the way - it was done, everyone wins, rags to riches and real feel good vibes for everyone. YOU, you, you fucking idiot - you were the one who controls which ones come out of the vault and you let this happen? Where is the foreman, where is the staff - do you even have your house in line.”

One hand was chopping through the air to add punctuation as his face shook with a very real anger. His tongue feeling the harsh tingle of his language.

“You didn’t keep your house in line and…”

He opened his arms, holding them out in disbelief.

“You didn’t keep your house in line - who else is there to blame - it is not that hard - it was already laid out for you - I - I - I…”

He closed his hands, balling them into fists and pressing them to his temple with ample pressure as he fell onto the couch beneath the couch, the sounds of inconsequential shards crunching below him.

Deep Breath.

“Not everyone is you, not everyone could do it like you did, not everyone can do it like you. You did everything you could to help the bastard and he deviated and you can’t let that get to you. All he had to do was follow the plan and he didn’t - and he got in the way of us.”

“What we were doing out there…It isn’t what we are fully capable of, so we had to do what we had to do to reach the spotlight, and make people know our name. It should have been different but…”

A shaky breath was taken, and he closed his eyes, facing his palms down and pushing them down, bringing his own volume, tone, speed down.

“If I am not for me, who is for me; and if I am only for myself, what am I. And if not now, when?”

War had casualties, and this one could have been avoided. This was not the hill the Fairest would die on, not here, not now, not when they were so close to reaching the top of the mountain. If he was to succeed, they would need to succeed.

Sitting up off the couch he walked back to his desk, hitting the intercom.

“Clint, sorry for the noise, got passionate...Can you grab the broom and dustpan - I have some clean up. Then can you reach out and get me the deets on the new Cirque casting director and see if we have any mutuals we can reach through before setting up anything formal.”

By the time he finished with Clint he watched the video, seeing the Lost dance. He couldn’t shake that there was something else at play here, a night of partying, or some other destructive habit.

What were you doing the night before…

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The Darkling would receive a simple message in the early evening via SMS.

"My office, ASAP - we got an update."

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Upon arrival to the familiar locale at this point, Clint would give Riley a warm greeting as they seemed to be getting ready to leave.

“Arch is just waiting for you, he’s been buzzing about something.”

Clint was a good guy.

All that was left was for the Darkling to enter the room where it happens.


Riley Sorsa

POP

A sudden hollow sound filled the air and the cork was lost somewhere in the office, and the mist of the Champagne was aimed in an all encompassing fan so that there was little to no way that the Darkling could dodge this masterful assault.

“Started from the bottom now we’re here! Just like Drake said!”

Canadian Rap Icon Drake, that was. Archie shook the bottle up to make the assault last as long as possible. Once the pray fizzled away in that few seconds of elation, he stood there, arms open, ready to take his bow.

“And oh me, oh my, who is it that graces my office, but Crique’s newest star, Riley Sorsa! Because we did it, Congratulations!”

The garish as always, and jovial Fairest made his way to his desk, setting the champagne on the corner before knocking on the top of it and opening his drawer.

“Don’t think I didn’t listen either, because when you are done with the shock - boy howdy did your number one guy come through for you in more ways than one - trust.”

He pulled a hefty enough rectangular package from his drawer and set it down with a cautious oof, before he finally had the chance to flop in his own tall backed chair and motion for Riley to join him in the seat across from him - if they could get over the elation at the moment that was - and to open whatever little gift this was.

He seemed as happy as could be, a far cry from where he had been naught an hour before.

The Show Must Go On.

“No, don’t you dare start - you told me what I had to do, and I am not going to start off the next step of our relationship by ignoring the newest sensation to grace the stage of the biggest burlesque stage in all of Sin City. That would just be rude, don’t you think? Plus I am not going to be the agent who doesn’t follow through on his premises, so you asked for the good stuff when you made it - and you followed through on your end, so, voila!”

As the brown paper was torn away the black box would make itself known, a real obelisk with the stag's head emblazoned on the front. Riley had asked for good whiskey. Riley got good whiskey.

There were things to talk about, and details to discuss, but this was a moment to bask and enjoy what the result was no matter the journey. Their elation was his elation, their success was his success. They would not be where they were if not for one another - and deep down the Fairest wanted people to realize this, even if he wasn’t vocal.

“And please...Please...Please...Don’t make me beg...Please - Do not, under any circumstance, let nary the thought enter your mind, to cut this with Coca Cola, because I believe I would legally have to hunt you down.”

The grinning broker leaned back in his chair, rocking side to side as he let the Darkling fully uncover the black box, potentially even open it.

“According to the the expert, Christmas cake, honey, coffee, and a hint of spice - bottle number 202 out of 888”

If looks could kill, the Darkling would be dead - Root Beer...Root Beer in the $5000 Whiskey. It took the admission of the entire thing being a joke to make him be at ease that this wasn’t going to be the victim of a party night.

Turning and reaching to the collection of glasses behind him and retrieved two champagne flutes, reaching across the desk and grabbing the popped bottle before pouring them each some of the bubbles. A little spillage, but the desk seemed to have been prepared for a mess.

“Please, just clink the glasses and go to town - we both deserve this.”

He pushed the glass to the Darkling, raised his own and let them crash together.

“If Dreams were free, we wouldn't need to sleep to have them.”

What a toast Arch-man, what a toast.

Champagne taken care of, glass down he turned to Riley.

“You used magic, didn’t you?”

His tone had switched, less jovial and more serious but still with upbeat hints. It was clear he wasn’t trying to deflate the mood into an atmosphere of admonishment but the elation had been had and now it seemed business was a foot.

They answered plainly. That was a good start, the two of them weren’t starting behind the 8 ball. Good...Good…

He nodded, looking away for the moment, measuring his own response to her as he reached for his desk and pulled out a remote and hit the button, but tape playing on the tv, starting at the end of the understudy’s routine and between the intermission where the spell was cast.

“What happened? You are better than this, was it nerves, were you out late? You know this got out right?”

He was pointing things out, matter of factly. He wanted them to have an out, a reason, an excuse. He can plan around that and make it rationale. He needed something better than ‘just because’.

“You know what this looks like?”

“Doubt.”

To the point, just as cold, if not a little venomous.

“This is a reason for them to have doubt, to cast doubt, and to act on their doubt.”

He pressed another button on the remote, and it switched, half way through Riley's own demo reel, to them killing it on some guerilla shot video. That was the Darkling at their A-Game, versus some of the moments in the audition where while professional others had inappropriately stood out.

“They want to think whatever will make them connect the dots now. They don’t know what happened, they want to assume what happened. They want to think you fucked your way there. They think the way to deal with that is to oust their casting director. What it looks like is a production doubting the new star, because the ring wasn’t handed to them.”

They had torn out Archie’s own inroads, it left him weaker than before. Roads could be rebuilt though. There was something else in this whole rant.

“What it looks like? It looks like everything will be harder, I need you to understand that you are in, but we are going to have to prove ourselves every night because they are looking for an excuse to accuse us of cheating our way to the top.”

He opened the drawer on his desk - opposite of where the whiskey had been stored, and pulled out a stack of papers, and let it fall on the desk.

“This is our contract. This is our compact. This whole thing? This is us now. I’m I disappointed? Yes, of course I am, I know you are better than what happened there. Am I mad that someone there couldn’t keep their house in line? I am furious. But, but, but if anyone thinks for one fucking second that they can have a say on what happens in my house? I will find every racist Tweet, every off color Instagram post, every tagged Facebook post, track down every compromising photo, and drag their name through the tar until they get the message that we will not be stopped as we climb the ladder.”

He sat back, leaning in his chair and shoulders slumping a bit. Hands on the arm rests, gripping with white knuckles before they eased up. His face softened and a regretful look replaced it.

“I am sorry I wasn’t there. That I couldn’t do more. That it came down to what it did. I know you are good enough to do it without the tricks. Otherwise I would never have put you in that situation. I am not going to let these people doubt you because they can’t understand.”

A moment of pause., a soft breath, and in a calmer, more subdued tone,

“You are something special - You are something special”