Page 1 of Destroyed Desire
Chapter One
“YoureallyputtheassinAssassin Krunch!”
I give my friend Arial a playful fist bump, then half-swivel to look back at my rear. It’s unusually perky in the super tight pants I made as part of my costume for CosPlay Con. It took me six months, one week, two days, and nine hundred dollars to perfectly recreate the outfit of my favorite comic book superhero, Lady Assassin Krunch. So worth it. It’s even more worth it to see how well the pants hold up my generous behind and make it look killer.
I’m a walking cliché, but I don’t care. As a thirty-year old pharmacy technician with a comic book problem who lives in her mother’s house in Fargo, North Dakota, I don’t have a lot to get excited about. CosPlay Con was it. Tickets went on sale nine months ago. I jumped online to order the moment they went live and waited three hours in the queue, fueling myself on salty chips and diet soda, and nearly peeing my pants because I couldn’t haul the desktop into the bathroom with me.
Really, my life is as mundane as they come. I belong to two book clubs, one for comics, and another for people who like to read romance novels featuring monster heroes. I’m still not sure how I became a monsterfudger, as we call ourselves, but here we are. There’s just something about getting manhandled and banged by the monster under your bed. Arial thinks it’s weird, but I saw the titles on her electronic reader. She’s a monsterfudger, too, but will deny it until the day she dies.
But today, finally, I, Fern Bostacheck, have transformed from a pasty, socially awkward Midwesterner into a sexy, deadly superhero. With a wedgie.
“Oof, these pants might be a littletootight. Cover me.”
Arial blocks my backside while I adjust the seam that’s riding up between my cheeks.
“Come on, Fern. We have a lot to do. Let’s look at the schedule.”
She takes out her cellphone and taps around on the screen. The carefully curated list of events we created fell apart the moment we stepped through the security line. We were quickly overwhelmed, but in the best possible way.
The conference center is packed with Cosplayers in elaborate costumes, vibrant decorations, cool tech casting holograms on the walls, and bright, crisscrossing lights beaming from the ceiling. The fanfare inspired us to ditch our plans and live in the moment, but neither of us can get our phones to work to view the event schedule.
“Damn phone!”
“Still glitching?”
She shrugs and puts the cell away, opting for the paper itinerary we were given when we arrived. Our phones started acting weird when we entered the building, which sucks because I planned to take a lot of pictures and I can’t even get my camera app to open.
“Let me check mine and see if it’s better.” It only takes a second to realize my phone is still being an asshole.
I blow an irritated raspberry. “Whatever, let’s go.”
She hooks her arm through mine. The brown, white, and pink fur of her Woozie costume tickles my bare skin. Parts pig, bear, and rabbit, with four floppy ears and huge anime-style eyes, Arial has a solid chance at placing in the costume contest. Making our costumes was so much fun. The hours we spent cutting, and measuring, and sewing on my living room floor had been a welcome reprieve from the sad reality of my life. I’m a self-declared spinster, mainly because I’d spent the bulk of my formative twenties and early thirties taking care of my ill mother. Creating my Assassin Krunch costume had been the creative outlet I needed to stay sane.
We stop and register for the best costume contest, then find the conference room where the live action role play groups are competing. The LARP group I belong to competes at three this afternoon. A last-minute spot opened, and we grabbed it, even though we weren’t ready to compete at a level like this. We quickly decided to recreate Assassin Krunch’s last movie, much to my excitement, and will reenact the epic fight scene between good and evil as featured at the end of the film.
It’s my favorite scene, and being the leading lady, I had to work hard to learn every movement of the fight sequence.
I’ve practiced until every muscle in my body revolted. Only yesterday, I perfected my round-house kick, and figured out how to get enough momentum in a drop slide to kick the feet out from beneath my opponent. It was an ecstatic moment for me, but not so much for the guy I used it on. He ended up with twisted ankle and a hell of a bruise.
There’s not an athletic bone in my five-foot-four inch, solid-Midwestern-girl body, yet here I am, round-housing and sneak kicking like a real fighter. I’m also pretty handy at wielding my plastic sword with faux jewel encrusted handle, thank you.
I tried to get Arial to join my LARP group, but she drew a line at fake fighting with a group of, mostly, middle-aged men trying to relive the epic battle dreams of their youth. I know it’s another cliche thing to be a part of. But I joined to take a break from caring for my mother’s worsening dementia. The evening caregiver came four hours a week during LARP practice, and without that little bit of respite, I’d probably have lost my mind. Mom is gone now, though. The house is pretty empty. Arial’s costume reminds me that I’ve been thinking about getting a cat, but I haven’t quite decided. I’m already weird and I’m not sure I want to elevate to crazy cat lady status quite yet.
“Oooh, let’s go to the DESIRE DEMENSION next,” Arial gushes while pointing at the brochure.
“What’s that?”
She reads. “Enter the dimension where your fantasies and deepest desires come true. Then celebrate your journey through the swirling portal of desire with a drink of the Gods.”
“Portal? Drinks? I’m in.”
We find the event location on the map and head that way. There’s quite a line when we arrive, but it moves quickly. Plus, the cheers and excited shouts from inside the room gives us a thrill. Finally, at the entrance, a man in a black bodysuit covering him head-to-toe gives us a piece of paper and a pen, then points us inside a room swirling with psychedelic colors. There’s a large tunnel on the opposite side where flashing lights spackle red, green, and yellow inside. The room is packed, and everyone seems to be excited to go through the portal.
A voice comes from a hidden speaker.
“Welcome mortals, to the desire dimension, where your most secret desires and fantasies come true. Write your desires on the provided paper and hold it in your left hand upon entering the tunnel. Toss the paper into the burn pit as you exit, then wait and see which of your wishes comes to life.”
“This is from that comic… what is it? You know, the one where the villain forces the heroine to say that her greatest desire is the death of her father, the King, because the villain wants the throne for himself.” Arial taps her chin. “Then they drink the poison ale of the Gods or something like that.”
