Promotion
written by Brahma
Moonstalker © his player

He saw the building crumble, raining down glass and steel as the massive paw crushed the structure down to its foundation. He heard the screams of those leaping out the windows in a desperate attempt to escape death. Instead, their demise was merely delayed, as the toes of the colossal titan pressed down over them once it crashed into the ground. The claws dug deep furrows as it flexed, and soon, its mate loomed overhead as the giant took another step. In his awe, he didn't realize he was right under the huge paw until it was so close he could touch one of the broad pads on its underside.

It was then he awoke, the shrill buzzing of his alarm clock ripped him from his dream so abruptly his body jerked as if he had stumbled. He took in a few shallow breaths, momentarily confused until he realized he was in his bed, and the clock's incessant buzzing was not the screams he heard in his dream. "Just a dream," he muttered to himself as he threw off the bedsheets covering him. He turned off the alarm as he crawled out of bed, and staggered towards the bathroom for a shower, hoping that the hot water that would soon be pounding on him would rid his brain of the terrifying imagines of his dream.

No such luck. It was the third one this week, and the images were the same, and growing more and more vivid with each dream--the giant paw crashing down on a building, killing everyone underneath it. Then the other paw started to crash down on him just before he woke up. Except this time, he mused quietly to himself, it felt as if it were coming after me on purpose.

Shivering even though the water was turning his skin as red as a lobster, he finished his shower, and opened the shower door to grab a towel, drying himself off quickly. After brushing his teeth, he went to his workstation to check his email and do his usual morning online chats before he went to work in an hour. The usual spam email were deleted without a second glance, he then replied to some personal ones, and the rest were from mailing lists that could wait until later. He clicked on the icon to start up his chat client, and was soon logged in. He looked at his friends list to see who was on, but quickly discovered the one he wanted to talk to was already paging him.

Hey CorporateHound, how're you? the message read.

Grinning, he typed in his reply. Not much, Moonstalker. You're up early, shouldn't you be in bed by now?

Eh, I couldn't sleep, you know how it is with us night owls.

He nodded, having worked a night shift at one of his old jobs. Well, it's good to chat with you. I had that dream again.

The reply took a little longer, and for a moment he thought his friend was lagged, or that his Internet connection had cut out on him, until he saw the words appear on the screen. The same dream? Are you sure?

Positive. The giant paw crushing the building, and then the other paw coming down on me.

Damn. You told anyone else about this dream?

He thought that was an odd question, but he replied No, I don't want too many people to think I'm going nuts. I mean, how can you explain a giant stomping you? I can't.

Yeah, that would give people a reason for giving you the usual strange looks.

He chuckled, typing his reply quickly as he soon realized how late it was. Gee, thanks. You're such a good friend *grins*. Anyway, I have to log off or I'll be late for work.

Still working that crappy job, huh? No word yet on the other job?

No, I'm about ready to give up on them. Anyways, I'll talk to you later!

Later! came Moonstalker's reply, so he quickly logged out, and left for work. On the drive there, he passed the very street when he almost got stomped. because of the traffic ahead of him, he was able to get a good view of the building the paw stomped on in his dream. It seemed so towering to him, so strong. In the dream it had toppled so easily under the giant's strength. Shaking his head, he was glad when the traffic moved far enough ahead so that the building was no longer in front of his windshield.

He soon arrived at work--on time, no less--and proceeded to enter through the lobby, pausing a bit to say hello to the receptionist, a petite woman in her early twenties with shoulder-length red hair. "Hey, Susan, how are you?" he smiled at her.

Susan returned the smile with one of her own. "Not bad, Ritchie, you doing alright?"

He grinned, making an exaggerated mock-sigh. "Not too bad, even though it's morning."

His overemphasis made her stifle a giggle. "Still not a morning person after all these months, huh?"

"It's not the mornings that bother me, you know, it's waking up for them." He checked his watch, and grimaced. "Time to go earn my keep, I guess. See you later!"

Susan waved her goodbye as Ritchie walked through the double doors, already noticing the electronic symphony of telephones in the rows of cubicles he passed to get to the time clock.

"Foley!" called a deep, booming voice behind him. Phil, his supervisor, approached him, his sleeves rolled up over the thick cords of muscle, which only happened if he was stressed. Seeing as how his supervisor came into work an hour before him, this was not a good sign. Sure enough, once Phil reached Ritchie, he could see the vein in his temple already twitching. "We got a problem. Hurry up and clock in, I'll explain on the way."

It only took a second for the time clock to register his time card, and both men were walking down a cubicle at a quickened pace. "What's up, Phil?"

"We've already got a high call volume, seems people in the west coast are having problems with their satellite TV. There's been another earthquake over there, and the technicians think that might be causing the problem."

Ritchie sat down at his workstation, removing his headphones from the locked cabinet. "I never heard of an earthquake interfering with satellite reception. Anything else I need to know?"

Phil shook his head, suddenly looking very tired as his shoulders slumped. "Yeah, you're going to have a lot of fun going through the scripts to help fix a problem you can't fix."

Ritchie sighed, already feeling tense. "That means a lot of transfers to the second tier, huh?"

"If they don't ask to cancel their accounts outright. You know how some people are, Ritchie." he then glanced at the clock on the wall, as if hoping it was time for him to go home already. "Good luck with today. We're all gonna need it." He started to walk away, but stopped suddenly. "Oh, and another thing," he called over his shoulder. "All breaks are suspended until the call volume goes down."

Ritchie shook his head, watching his supervisor slip over to another row of cubicles as he put on his headset. This is not going to be a good day, he grumbled inwardly as he logged into the computer, and took the first call.

By the second call, he wished he had been incorrect in his prediction. Then all breaks were canceled, meaning he had to deal with the increasing number of irate customers who complained about how they couldn't get their favorite cooking programs that day without his routine cup of coffee. At lunchtime, he discovered that the hour for his cup of ramen noodles was delayed due to the call volume, which had not decreased, but increased. When he finally got to have lunch, he was interrupted after thirty minutes to return to his cubicle as the backlog of callers was growing. He finally got to leave four hours after his scheduled shift, feeling exhausted, both mentally and physically. At least he got to avoid the usual traffic due to his late departure from his job, so that was less stress for him. Getting home, he didn't bother changing out of his work clothes into something more casual, he merely undressed himself, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. He lived alone, so he wasn't too worried about anyone coming in to see him in his boxers.

Sighing in relief, he made his way to the kitchen, fixing him a simple peanut butter sandwich with a nice glass of milk. He checked his answering machine, which showed him a number of zero messages waiting for him. "Gee, thanks for calling me for an interview," he grumbled. He thought the least a company could do is say 'thanks, but no thanks' to prospective interviewees. Sighing again, this time feeling a bit depressed, he went to his computer to check his email, of which there was none to be read. Odd, since usually his mailing list would have given him a good chunk of messages. He logged into his chat program, sipping his glass of milk, and almost instantly received a message.

Heyas, you got home late! Moonstalker asked.

Yeah, it was a long day. Tons of people calling to bitch about their satellite TVs.

Sounds like you had a bad time. You OK?

Ritchie felt a smile cross his lips. That Moonstalker was always thoughtful, even though they'd never met face to face in the six months they new each other. It's good to be home, let me tell you.

Did that place call you for an interview?

The smile faded as quickly as it appeared. No.

Sorry, dude. I know how much you want to get out of tech support.

It's OK, Moonstalker. It's not like you had anything to do with them not calling me.

Actually, that's not true. It is my fault.

At first Ritchie thought he misread. He read the sentence again, and came up with the same result--absolute confusion. ...what do you mean "it's my fault"?

Pick up your phone.

His confusion growing, he did as instructed, and picked up the phone. When he put the receiver to his ear, he couldn't get a dial tone. There was a perfectly understandable explanation, though. The phone was out of order, so he walked into his bedroom to try the phone by his bed. The same lack of a dial tone greeted him.

What's going on, Moonstalker? he typed his question as he was starting to feel his cheeks flush as his temper grew. Do you work for the phone company, or are you a hacker? This isn't funny.

No, I don't work for the company nor am I a hacker, and I agree, this isn't funny. I didn't do this as a joke. You see, your phone hasn't been working for three days.

Bullshit, I would have noticed.

I dunno about that, Ritchie...it did take you long enough to notice the lack of email.

Ritchie was about to make a very vulgar reply when he realized what his friend had just typed to him. His typing was slow as he tried to process what he was thinking.You claim you're not a hacker, but you knew I didn't have any email tonight? How do you explain that? You must be lying.

Can me being a hacker explain how I know you passed by the building that was stomped into the ground in your dream? By the way, nice boxers.

The glass of milk and his sandwich was quickly forgotten after reading the characters on his computer screen. How...? It was all he could type; he was afraid of adding anything to his question.

Are you sitting down? Just kidding, I know you are, and I'm kind of disappointed you didn't catch the fact I know your first name. I guess you would have just claimed I was a hacker. In a way, I guess I am one, but my primary occupation is that of a god.

OK, this has gone beyond funny. You're a stalker, you know the route to work I take, and you've got my house bugged, or something sick like that. Maybe you're--he was going to finish his sentence with 'even watching me right now', but Moonstalker interrupted him with his message.

I am watching you, yes, but not in the way you expect. You see, Ritchie, as impossible as it is to believe, I AM a god, and I've been trying to slowly prepare you for this revelation. At best, I would have had another month to prepare you, but time is no longer on my side, regardless of my power.

Prove it. Prove to me you're a god.

Excuse me? What ever happened to faith?

Very funny. No, if you're a god, prove it to me, reveal yourself to me, change my boxers into silk, something to back up your claim.

Gee, the fact I knew what you were typing before you could hit the 'enter' key wasn't enough, eh? Well, my power on your reality isn't what it used to be, but I think I can muster up enough power to give you what you want. Look away from the computer.

Ritchie hesitated--he wasn't sure why he suddenly felt like running out of the apartment, but the fear was there. Slowly looking away from the computer, he looked at his movie poster of an actor of questionable talent wearing a black trench coat and dark shades in the rain.

Except that instead of the movie title, the question Is this proof enough? was lettered on its surface.

He felt his legs losing their strength, and stumbled back onto his chair, rolling back against the wall. It was lucky for him he didn't hurt himself, but physical harm was the least worry in his mind. His sanity, on the other hand, he was afraid he was losing slowly but surely. Glancing at the computer screen and reading You're not going insane, Ritchie did nothing to assure him of his gradual decision that yes, indeedy, he was going crazy. He wondered if he wasn't already there.

Well, they say that if you're crazy, you don't question your sanity.

"Stop it! Why are you doing this to me?" he cried. His head was spinning, and his heart was beating so quickly, he was fearful of a heart attack.

I'm sorry, Ritchie. I really am, but there's no time for subtlety anymore. I need you before your dream comes true.

He didn't realize the fact he had his eyes closed when Moonstalker typed (spoke? Projected?) his statement, until they fluttered open in surprise. "My dream? The one about the giant?"

That's the one. You see, you were looking into the future. I was letting you see what is going to happen, but it'll be worse, unless you let me help your reality.

"This isn't happening. I'm dreaming," he mumbled to himself, his head starting to nod, and rapidly picking up speed. "That's it, I'm dreaming. I'm in my bed sleeping peacefully."

You aren't making things any easier with this way of thinking, Ritchie, you know this, right? Ritchie cringed as he almost heard the scolding tone in what he was reading. He continued to repeat his mantra over and over.

Ritchie...

"I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming..." he started rocking himself back and forth. He didn't know when he started hugging his knees to his chest.

Ritchie, listen to me.

"I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming."

"RITCHIE!"

The thundering bark of his name shook the walls of his apartment, causing picture frames, shelves, and the glass of milk to fall to the floor. Ritchie stopped chanting his mantra, his eyes flying over to the window, making eye contact with the huge eye of the black wolf which peered into his apartment. His mouth widened, and he tried to scream, but nothing came out, not even a whimper. Worse, the eye of the wolf grew larger as it moved towards his window, and when Ritchie saw the black nose pass through the wall like a ghost (a very large ghost, but a ghost nonetheless), he fell out of his chair, scrambling back towards the door.

"Ritchie, this is going nowhere," the giant wolf growled, and sounded very real, despite the fact most of its black muzzle filled the room without damaging it. "You need to calm down. Your mind is having a hard time accepting all this, yes, but if you give me one chance, I can explain everything."

"You're not real," he whimpered, almost halfway to the door, and from there, the outside, where no giant wolves would appear before him, or so he hoped.

"Well, I guess it's better than hearing how you're dreaming. In a way, I'm not real, I'm just projecting what I look like inside your mind."

"Oh yeah?" he said, looking at the mess of fallen pictures, shattered glass, and spilt milk on the floor. "Then how do you explain that?" Listening to his own words, he then paused in his journey towards the door. "How DO you explain that?"

"Simple application of what your people call telekinesis. Very minor, and costs a lot of power, just like imprinting this image into your skull. Can we talk at the computer? It'll scare you a lot less than talking to a wolf muzzle that could swallow you without any effort."

Ritchie's head was spinning, but the fear was slowly leaving his mind. If he were going crazy, or if this was a dream, he might as well go with it. At first he questioned his change of mind, then shrugged it off, only to have the doubt return to him. "You're doing this, aren't you? You're calming me down so that I don't have a heart attack." He said as he got to his feet, however shakily, and went back to his chair, sliding it over to the computer desk as the wolf image faded away and the response appeared on the screen.

Smart guy, Ritchie. It was a risk, but at this point, I'm willing to do everything short of forcing myself into your body.

"I don't even need to type my replies, do I? Why not force yourself into my body? And why are you doing this?"

No, you don't. Forcing myself into your body may very well kill you if you're unwilling to accept me, and I'm doing this to save your reality from the greatest error my kin have ever made.

"OK, I'm listening. I still think I'm going crazy, but I know I'm not dreaming."

Well, you should've been more careful, Ritchie. The shard of glass didn't cut too deep, don't worry.

Ritchie found himself chuckling over that admonishment. "I'll remember that the next time a god chats with me."

If everything goes well, you'll have plenty of chances to talk to my kin. Now, I'll make this brief, we're really running out of time. My kin imprisoned one of our own in one of your kind, but something happened that not even we could expect.

"Wait a minute, if you're a god, doesn't that mean you're all-knowing?"

The response on his screen, if it were able to, would have dripped in sarcasm. You and your questions. Why must your kind always question things? But then again, the prison we sent our kin to didn't question at all. Maybe if we had sent him to you, he'd still be locked away. Yes, we are all-knowing, but only in our own possibility. Do you understand?

"Uh...no."

Of course you don't, because that's like trying to teach an unborn child to read. It's impossible. I need you to help me stop my kin from destroying your reality. Given enough time and sacrifices, he'll be able to do just that, then make his way down your timeline until everything is destroyed, and he'll remake everything here into his own plaything.

"Why me? What makes me so special?"

Honestly? I'm desperate. What I'm doing is considered to not be our concern. No one is going to help me, they've turned their backs on your kind again.

"Again?"

Long story, no time to explain. Needless to say, that's why you'll never find us in any of your mythology books. We're quickly running out of time. Crazy or not, I need your help. I need to put myself in your form, and make you my avatar.

Ritchie's reading was interrupted as a slight tremor shook his chair, the vibration making his skull ache as the second tremor quickly followed the first. Then another.

Come on, Ritchie, I need you. He's already broken free. Those tremors are his footsteps, and he's headed this way. Think of this as the ultimate promotion, because I'm going to turn you into a god.

Ritchie hesitated as he felt the fear coming back. This was not only an ultimate promotion if he really wasn't going insane, it was the ultimate change in status quo. Goodbye to his normal life if what he suspected would change if he accepted. Goodbye to his friends, family, bills, disease, that damned barking dog on the third floor keeping him away when he was trying to sleep.

"Maybe it's the blood loss talking, or maybe I've finally gone nuts. What the hell, I acc--" His sentence was never finished as he was suddenly knocked back from his chair, a rush of emerald fire streaming out of the computer screen entering his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. The last thing he read before his world turned green was

I'm sorry.

His body was pushed against the wall, his feet dangling in the air as the power pinned him a foot above the ground. After a moment, though, he soon touched the floor, but not because he was let down. Instead, the power that rushed into him caused his body to respond by growing. First his boxers burst open as it briefly struggled against the rapid swelling of his musculature.

His shoulders broadened to better handle the growth of the new muscles which ballooned on his once slender form. As he grew in height, so did the muscles in his arms, chest, and legs grow. Were he able to see anything beyond the green of divine power, he would definitely be impressed. He had always secretly wanted to look like the cover models of those bodybuilding magazines, but this was beyond what any human could produce. He didn't feel any pain when his head burst through the roof, followed by the collapse of the floor under his feet from the tons of weight his body now contained.

Fortunately, he did not hear the screams of terror and pain his growth caused as he crushed his fellow tenants both above and below him, his muscles pushing them against walls, others falling through the crumbling floor, while others finding themselves trampled by the undersoles of his feet. As he emerged from the apartment building like a newborn being retrieved from the womb, his skin started to become covered in black fur, his facial features becoming that of a giant black wolf, which matched the image he saw outside his window.

Wake up, Ritchie, Moonstalker whispered inside the new avatar's mind, who responded by fluttering his eyes open like he did before, only this time, there was no fear, only a strange sensation he'd never felt.

You'll get used to it, Ritchie. It's called 'absolute power'.

"But...doesn't absolute power corrupt absolutely?" Ritchie asked, taking delight in the deep voice he now possessed. Even the fact he was turned into a giant black wolf didn't bother him.

Not with me around. You see, we're one being now. Sure, you get to do most of the hard work, but it's my power that made you this way.

Ritchie looked down at the ruins of his former home, and his ears folded back against his skull as he sensed how many had died. "Did they have to suffer?"

It's regrettable, but lots more are going to die. Acceptable losses if we win this war.

"It's a war? I thought it was just one on one."

When you're a god, one on one is bigger than any armies your former kind could ever hope to muster. Now pay attention, Ritchie, he's here.

Ritchie turned his attention to where Moonstalker mentally directed him, and was shocked as he looked up, the huge paw so close he could touch one of the broad pads on its underside.