MB Interview: Battle of Buttons (Part 1)

Note: This ended up being a LOT different (and longer) than the reality show version I originally intended, with a main character from Delivery for the Damned rudely barging and commandeering the interview. 

Your questions will from before will get used for part two!  If you come up with any additional questions that you think may help the host reach his final decision, please add them to this post.

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A stone amphitheater forms a semi-circle around a group of confused humans. Raucous cheers and applause fill the air, but the seats are all empty. The humans, ten in number and only just teleported in, glance around with wary confusion.

Nicholas Wiseman and Grayson Black step forward in opposite directions, their UCRT training kicking in to protect the others between them. Hope and John Wiseman follow suit; no matter from which side an attack comes, it’ll meet with Ment opposition.

Sally Alavidze  alternates between trying to discern the source of the applause and glaring at Reese Rudzite, who has been rendered immobile by the pen which Glitch Parker, grinning maliciously, presses against the back of Reese’s neck. Andy Guerra futilely struggles against Kent Zarneki, who has his armed pinned behind his back.

Ambrose Kim doesn’t move. His eyes narrow on the first row.

Ambrose: Reveal yourself.

The air shimmers. Where once was only an empty seat, now an enormous . . . not quite man sits. His Gucci black suit with purple piping hugs a pair of shoulders roughly as broad as Sally is tall. His height is hard to gauge given that he’s seated, one leg casually crossed over the other, but he’s easily over eight feet. Instead of hair, his head boasts two bronze, spiraled horns similar to those of an addax. Gold veins glow against skin the color of red clay—his appearance is in equal parts demon and stone golem.

Demon, applauding slowly: I heard that you were observant, Ambrose Kim, yet I’m still impressed.

Nick steps towards the demon.

Nick: Whatever mind game you’re playing, cease and desist.

The Demon puts one hand over his heart (or, at least, where his heart would be if he were human) and looks at Nick with a wounded expression.

Demon: I’m above mind games, Nicholas Wiseman. This isn’t an illusion; I’ve summoned you all here to resolve a very pressing issue. That being said—

He nods politely at Andy, whose struggle against Kent’s hold has become increasingly frantic.

Demon: If you can’t behave, then I’ll be forced to kick you out of my realm.

Andy’s arm manages to break free, his elbow connecting with Kent’s jaw. The Demon brow ridge twitches, annoyed, and Andy poofs out of existence. The blood drains from Reese’s face.

Demon: Taliaferro Parker, you may release River Ford. He won’t try to escape custody again.

Glitch: How about no? I’m not inclined to trust a Hellboy knockoff.

The Demon’s clawed hands clasp together in delight.

Demon: Hellboy is a superhero, isn’t he? How marvelous! Although I’m not sure if muttonchops would suit me. My jawline is one of my best . . .

Sally: It wasn’t a compliment. You look like a demon.

Demon: You should see me on Tuesdays.

Sally, glaring at Reese: I’ll pass. I prefer to keep better company in my dreams.

Demon: Ah, I suppose it makes sense that you all would believe this a dream. Very well, for the sake of your treasured sanity, you are all dreaming.

Everyone’s shoulders relax, except for Ambrose.

Demon: This is a dream, and I’m nothing more than your imaginary friend. You may call me . . .

The Demon thinks it over then breaks into a sharp-toothed, yet extremely civilized, smile.

Demon: Call me Gil.

John: Why the hell are we here, Gil?

Gil: Appropriate phrasing of an easily answered question.

Gil doesn’t snap or wink or give any indication of preforming a spell. Yet instantly, the humans are seated in nine chairs evenly spaced before him. All are plush armchairs with different floral prints that their occupants relax into with a sleepy sigh (this is a dream, after all). The only exception is Reese’s chair, which isn’t actually a chair but rather a padded begonia footstool that matches Nick’s recliner.

Nick smirks at Reese, who shifts uncomfortably on his too-small seat.

Nick, to Gil: I like you a little more now, Dream Demon.

Gil: Thank you! As I said before, I brought you all here to resolve a matter of immense importance. A matter of canon.

Glitch: Easy. We shoot Reese from it.

Sally: Seconded.

Kent silently raises his hand to indicate his vote for yes.

Gil: Wrong canon, Taliaferro Parker. You see, I was reading your story and—

Grayson: This is a very strange dream.

Gil: Yes, yes, it’s all quite odd, but I promise you won’t remember anything come morning. Now, as I was saying, I was reading Mind Blind and—

Hope half-rises from her chair, fists balled.

Hope: Who told you about my child’s condition?

Gil: That’s the title of the . . . Oh, for the love of all that’s unholy, you know what? Never mind. This is a dream, remember? It doesn't need to make sense. Here’s the dilemma: I need to determine Button’s One True Love.

Four voices simultaneously respond, talking over each other:

Sally: Ella and I are the OTP, obviously.

Glitch: The way that I feel about Elliot puts Shakespearean sonnets to shame.

Grayson: Ellery is my everything.

Ambrose: My relationship is none of your business.

Kent quietly raises his hand.

Gil: Oh my. This is more awkward as I imagined it, truth be told.

Nick stares incredulously at Button’s love interests.

Nick: How do none of you know my sibling’s name?

Gil: Oh, they do. It’s—

Sally: Ella.

Glitch: Elliot.

Grayson: Ellery.

Kent: Ellis.

Ambrose: Ellie.

Hope, looking concerned: Our daughter’s name is Ellen.

John, frowning at Hope: Dearest, our son’s name is Eli.

Reese: Elmer Wiseman is a double-crossing toad.

Nick, yelling: It’s Sam! Their name is Sam!

Gil waves his hands, attempting to put a stop to the heated squabbling that ensues. None of the humans pay him any attention. Finally, exasperated, he sighs.

. . . And no one can speak. Their mouths open, but no sounds emerge.

Gil: That’s better. As I was about to say, before so rudely being cut off, is that all of you are from different playthroughs.

He glances over at Nick.

Gil: Yours came last. I ran out of ‘El’ names.

Sally: What do you mean by ‘playthroughs’?

She looks pleasantly surprised to discover that her voice once again works.

Gil: Realities. Hmm. Timelines, perhaps? Yes, timelines work. You all come from different timelines, and Button has a different name in each. But now I’m on my last replay—that is to say, there’s a new timeline about to happen, and I need to decide which route should be canon . . . Essentially, I must figure out Button’s true love.

Gil looks at the Wisemans. Nick looks intrigued, John looks confused, and Hope glares with pursed lips.

Gil: I brought you three here to help me determine Button’s soulmate.

Nick: Grayson, obviously.

Sally: Excuse me? I think not.

Nick: What? In my timeline, you’re . . .

He falls abruptly silent.

Nick, reluctantly: I suppose Salome and Sam could work as a couple.

Grayson clears his throat.

Nick: But I’m still voting for Gray.

John, smiling encouragingly at Sally: Well, you have my vote. Best friends make the best partners.

Sally: Thank you, Mr. Wiseman.

Sally, Gray, Nick, and John look expectantly at Hope. She straightens her back and looks them each in the eye.

Hope: Sally, you’ve been a wonderful friend to Button. You’ve been there for her when I wasn’t able, and I am eternally grateful.

Sally, smugly: Button means the world to me, Mrs. Wiseman.

Hope: Gray, my son has become better man by knowing you. You are everything that John and I dreamed of when we first started UCRT, and you’re a role model for the rest of the team.

Nick, pumping fist in the air and letting out a low whoot: Heck yeah he is!

Grayson: I’m honored.

Hope: However. Sally, you feel Button’s emotions and yet can hide your own. Grayson . . . I worry that you would experience struggles similar to what I went through. Either way, your relationship with Button is a power imbalance.

Sally: It’s not like I can read Ella’s mind! And I like feeling her emotions—I wouldn’t notice stuff otherwise.

Grayson: Respectfully, my brainrange is barely existent. Hearing Ellery’s thoughts is a choice that brings us closer, not a burden.

Hope: I’m sorry, but I believe Button would be happier in the long-term with a partner who wasn’t a Ment.

Gil, in a stage whisper: The plot thickens.

Glitch: Thank you, Mrs. W! I was beginning to feel attacked by my in-laws.

Kent nods, agreeing with Glitch, while Ambrose looks uncomfortable.

Gil: Don’t be so gloomy, Ambrose Kim. I’m leaning towards you as my favorite.

Nick: Not happening.

John and Hope both frown.

John: He’s Button’s teacher.

Hope: Ten years is quite an age gap, isn’t it?

Ambrose: I harbored the same reservations. Ellie was . . . persuasive.

Glitch: Why Rosy, Gil? He terrorized Button from the moment that they met. My chemistry with them was instantaneous and electric.

Hope: We haven't met. You're my child's girlfriend?

Glitch: One of them, apparently.

Kent: . . . Ellis loves my dogs.

Gil, sounding like a sports broadcaster: Annnd he speaks! Kent coming in clutch with a compelling case for Team Zarneki: think of the children! Canine children, but a family nonetheless.

Reese, petulantly: Why am I here? Elmer Wiseman took everything from me.

Gil: You possess a unique perspective on the situation.

Reese: Elmer Wiseman should die alone and unloved, abandoned by all whom he once cherished. 

Gil: See? That’s the kind of vindictive, alternative viewpoint none of the others can provide. Now . . .

A dramatic drumroll sounds from nowhere, echoing throughout the stadium.

Gil: Let the Battle of Buttons begin!

The humans let out a shared groan, and he grins at them sheepishly.

Gil: Too cheesy?

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Part 2: https://www.patreon.com/posts/battle-of-part-2-64785102