Incelbordination, Chapter 15

“Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?” Oswald sang to the dark wall in front of him. He hadn’t a single clue how much time had past since his incarceration. He could feel his brain popping like popcorn. He could feel his soul exiting through his mouth as he sang Pink Floyd lyrics. Any smile he had that day could be chalked up to mind-numbing insanity. It didn’t even occur to him to call for help even though nobody would answer him. It occurred to him even less to pound on the walls. His stomach growled in a leonine voice, but all he could hear were the echoes of a distant time come willowing across the sand.

And then his one-man show was finally interrupted by the opening of his cell door, keys jangling in the lock and all. The intense light flooded the room and burned Oswald’s retinas so badly that he cowered in the corner shielding his face. All he could see past his fingers was the silhouette of a trench coat-wearing female. It was nothing like the kind of coat Antero regularly wore to keep up his Matrix gimmick. This was professional-looking. And the woman’s voice was nothing short of professional-sounding.

“Bad few days, huh, Mr. Crow?” said Detective Mia Barry, whose face came into plain view once the light had dimmed a little.

Through a withering voice, Oswald asked, “What do you want from me this time?”

“I have some good news for you, Oz-Man.”

“You saved a bunch of money on your car insurance by switching to Geico?”

Mia giggled. “No, not that, although they do have nice customer service. I’m talking about good news as it relates to your charges.”

Oswald lowered his hands as his red eyes adjusted to the darkening light. “I’m listening.”

“Our tech guys scoured your computer and sifted through further evidence. There’s no proof you were ever involved with Incelbordination. From the looks of things, you couldn’t get out of that chat room fast enough.”

“W…wait a minute…you mean…what I did at the warehouse? That’s been cleared up too?”

Folding her arms and leaning against the cell door, Mia explained, “Three witnesses put you at that scene. Well, only two if you’re not counting that meathead Wacey Judge. Miss Sand and Miss Johnson put in a good word for you. They said you were argumentative, but otherwise safe to be around. You should thank those two, you know. They stuck their necks out for you. They wouldn’t do that if they thought you were a terrorist.”

Oswald could finally open his eyes to full capacity in expression of disbelief. “Those three…they’re alive?”

“Actually, we performed some necromancy on them and asked them the hard-hitting questions once they were properly summoned. Of course they’re alive, silly!”

A slowly forming smile crept upon Oswald’s face. “Does that mean…you finally got Antero?!”

Scratching her nose, Mia said, “Actually, that’s where the bad news begins. Antero Magnus is still out there somewhere. He and his incel buddies bailed on us at the last minute. Of course, you wouldn’t know that, because you got knocked the fuck out before we got there. You’ve still got a knot on your forehead from whatever Antero did to you.”

Oswald winced in pain as he prodded the fresh bruise on his forehead.

“Are you ready to hear the other half of the good news or do you want to poke your forehead some more?” Oswald excitedly nodded and Mia was happy to present the news after clearing her throat. “It turns out you do have a legal prescription for your marijuana use. The only reason why it was so hard to obtain was because you used your monthly dosage too soon. Just how much of that shit have you been puffing on at once?”

On account of being kneed in the face by Antero, Oswald actually had to think his absolute hardest to find out. He had been puffing every day like a diesel train without a thought of consequence. He puffed whenever he was nervous. He puffed because he could. He puffed whenever his favorite song came on his play list. Puff, puff, puff, nonstop, twenty-four-seven. No wonder his trench coat always smelled awful. He damned himself when he said, “Stupid!” and would have face-palmed if that bruise wasn’t jutting out so far.

“Yeah, you need to be more careful with your medication, Oz-Man. It’s not supposed to be for recreational use.”

“Well yeah, it makes sense now! I…just have one more question and then I’ll leave you alone.”

“You can ask as many questions as you want, Oswald. This isn’t an interrogation. Besides, I kind of owe you that luxury after you’ve spent so much time in here for nothing. This would actually be a good time for your marijuana usage.”

Oswald sighed and rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes. “Whatever happened to Jessica? Is she going to be alright?” Mia’s face softened at the mention of her name. “What? What’s going on?”

“You must be referring to Jessica Bradley, the teenage prostitute we stuck you with. Yeah, she, uh…” Mia scratched the back of her neck in search of the right way to say what she needed to say. She sighed and finally spit it out. “She hung herself the night Antero took you away. We tried CPR, but she didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Oswald. She’s dead.”

The dwarf buried his face in his hands and let the tears sting his already burning eyes. His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. His posture hunched over to where his neck ached. He even shouted, “Fuck!” as he pounded the wall behind him, aggravating his fist injuries even further. “Fucking hell!” he groaned while massaging his hand.

“Fourteen years old, Oswald. Even with prostitution on her record, she had her whole life ahead of her. She must have had some tough demons to face beforehand. Come to think of it, you’ve probably got some demons of your own to face. I would advise you to seek psychological help once you’re free. We don’t need another suicide, especially when you yourself have your whole life ahead of you as well.”

The dwarf gasped hard in between sobs. “Everything…I touch…turns to shit!”

“You see that? You see?!” Mia snapped, her following words growing more erratic as she pointed her finger. “That’s the reason why you need help! You are not a horrible person! You are not an incel terrorist! You are not a drug addict! You’re a human fucking being! If you kill yourself like Jessica did, you will have wasted your freedom and wasted an opportunity to set things right! Is that what you want?!”

“I just…I just want…” Oswald snorted snot up his nose and wiped the rest away with his sleeve. “I just want things to make sense, that’s all.”

Mia nodded and softened her tone. “I guess that’s something we all want, don’t we? But if you don’t seek help, nothing will ever make sense again. I know therapy is expensive, but it’s worth every penny. Oswald, I don’t want to watch you die in front of me. You’re innocent. You’ve been proven innocent by someone who’s waiting for you in the parking lot right now. She wants to give you a ride back to your dorm. She’s also the reason why we found your prescription in the first place. Come on, let’s go meet her.”

The detective approached Oswald and helped the sobbing dwarf to his feet. The two of them held hands together as they walked out of the police station. He knew she was just being a comfort to him, but handholding actually felt good for what it was. It didn’t have to be lovey-dovey. The kind gesture should have been appreciated and it was. I could never be an incel, thought Oswald as the last of his tears dried up on his sleeve.

After Oswald received his belongings (sans pot), Mia held the door open for him and said, “Have a good evening, little man. Get some sleep. You need it.”

His eyes lit up behind glassy vision when he saw a familiar woman standing next to her car with her arms folded. “No way,” said Oswald. It was true. She too had been through a lot. She too had watery pupils. She too had a bruise on her face, though hers was swollen over one eye.

“Come on, little dude. Let’s get you home,” said Nikita Johnson as she opened the passenger door and offered to help Oswald inside.

Incelbordination, Chapter 14

Falling asleep in the middle of danger seemed to be a common occurrence for Oswald Crow. He wondered how many blows to the head he’d taken since fighting against Incelbordination. Apparently, not enough to forget the pain of loneliness. Or the pain of being labeled a terrorist. Or the pain of possibly being thrown in jail for a roll of weed. It wouldn’t have surprised him one bit if he woke up a jail cell right then and there. But low and behold, he woke up (if one could call it that) back at the warehouse, a dark and empty warehouse at that. No bloodstains. No dead bodies. No crying. No pleas for help. Absolutely nothing at all.

And then what few lights there were began to flicker brightly at a rapid pace. Oswald held his aching head as he stood up and allowed his swollen eyeballs to adjust to the light. Needle pains pierced through his system and caused him to whine gently to himself. Not knowing where he was going, he bumped into a wooden crate that seemed to be filled to the top with bullets. Entranced, he sifted his fingers through the metal like beach sand. Somehow this was relaxing to his anxiety. A phantom woman appearing out of nowhere, however, was far from it.

An attractive black woman with long hair and a longer gray dress hovered over Oswald with a smile on her face. “Hello, Mr. Crow. Remember me?”

If the dwarf’s eyes weren’t wide before, they were now that this ghost appeared before him. “Mrs. Mills?”

“That’s right, Oswald. It’s me: Mrs. Mills. It’s been a while since the two of us talked. It’s almost like you’re avoiding me or something. Why would that be?” She leaned her face closer to Oswald and said, “That’s right, I remember. You never wanted to show your face again after you wrote me that love letter. I can’t say I blame you, teenage hormones aside.”

The dwarf’s face glowed nuclear red as he tried to come up with some dialogue. “Mrs. Mills…I’m …I’m sorry…I really am…”

Waving it off, Mrs. Mills said, “Don’t worry, Oswald, it’s not a problem at all. It’s not like I went through my own version of humiliation, being divorced and fired and whatnot. I must admit, you know how to tell a good love story…for high school standards, at least.”

“Please…Mrs. Mills, just go away.” Oswald sifted his fingers through the bullets yet again, but the anxiety relief wouldn’t come for him this time.

“Why should I, little buddy? Am I saying things you don’t like to hear?” said Mrs. Mills in an increasingly erratic tone. “You think you’re starving for love? What about me? Where was I supposed to get mine? From you? Don’t make me laugh, I’m in enough trouble as it is. Oh wait…I can’t be in trouble….because I’m dead! My bad!”

Oswald made a fist with the bullets he grabbed, as though he was ready to go to war right there. “You know how you could have saved your job and your life? By telling the other kids our phony relationship wasn’t true. You could have sent them to the principal’s office. You could have whacked their hands with pencils for all I cared. Do something to set things right, that’s all anybody could ask for. But no…you did absolutely nothing to stop those rumors from spreading to the kids. I’ve never heard so many kids laughing at me in my life. You? You might as well have laughed with them. You were complicit by your silence.”

Caught in her own debunked logic, Mrs. Mills shook her head and confessed, “Oswald, there was nothing I could do. I was just as unbelievable as you were. If they didn’t listen to you, what makes you think they could have listened to me?”

“Because you’re a fucking teacher and you know better than to let shit happen!” bellowed Oswald before throwing bullets at the phantom. “Get out! Get the hell out of here and stop haunting my dreams!” The dwarf threw even more bullets until the ghost fizzled out of sight.

And then by some strange magic, the crate refilled with more bullets, just in time for yet another ghost to appear: a baldheaded teenaged cancer patient trapped in a wheelchair with a psychotic frown on her face. “What about me, Oswald? You’re always talking with Antero about how you want cards and flowers on your grave, right? Where were my flowers when I needed them? Where was my love? Were you too embarrassed to admit that I was your girlfriend or were you too cowardly to take care of me when I needed someone the most?”

Breathing heavily through gritted teeth, Oswald scooped up more bullets in his hand and shouted, “Man, fuck you, Trish! You were just as complicit as my deadbeat English teacher! You didn’t stop the laughs! You didn’t stop the rumors! Even a sick chick like you could use a smart phone and make things right! You did nothing about it! Fuck you, Trish! Fuck off!” The dwarf threw even more bullets than before and caused Trish’s ghost to fade away in the darkness. And once again, the crate magically refilled with tossing props.

Yet another ghost haunted Oswald’s tortured soul: a blond haired teenage boy with a rainbow-colored shirt and his chin tucked in shame. “Are you going to throw bullets at me, you little shit?” The dwarf’s expression softened as he dropped the bullets back in the box. “All I did was place my hand on your shoulder and help you carry your books. I admit, I started to like you for a while. I told you how cute you were. And you just…you just snapped like a madman.” The boy tried in vain to wipe tears from his eyes, but they just kept flowing.

“You got me all wrong, Hunter,” said Oswald, his voice muffled in defeat. “I’m not one of those homophobic assholes. You just caught me on a bad day, that’s all. All the laughing, the name calling, the beatings I took…it just wasn’t my day. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Hunter’s ghost dissolved in the darkness and gave way to an army of angry young men with red hot neon in their eyes. Oswald dropped to his ass and breathed heavily in fear as these ghosts called him every name in the book while pointing accusatory fingers at him. The dwarf clutched his chest in an attempt to prevent a possible heart attack when Antero Magnus’ ghost appeared in front of those kids. Antero’s eyes had glowed a little brighter that night, giving off that same creepy shiver down Oswald’s spine.

“What do you people want from me?! Leave me alone!” the dwarf shouted in between winded breaths.

“You see all these kids, Oswald?” asked Antero as he waved his hands in both directions to show them off. “You let them all down, my former friend. You let me down too. You could have been one of the greatest revolutionaries of all time. You could have put Che Guevara to shame. You could have changed the world. Instead you turned your back on us .Of all the people you’ve seen tonight, we were the only ones who gave a damn about you. You threw it all away, Oswald. You’re not a supreme gentleman. You’re not even a manlet. You’re a fucking loser!”

Oswald kept screaming, “Shut up!” as he desperately reached into the bullet box and threw in every direction he could. Bullets to the left, bullets to the right, bullets to the center, bullets in a three hundred sixty degree angle. No matter how many he threw, the ghosts kept growing in numbers. Sure, the box refilled as it always did, but what good were those weapons if they only counted for a few victims?

The one victim Oswald wanted to hit the most, Antero, had put a stop to his rebellion with a one-handed chokehold to the little guy. Between the throat squeezing and his own heart-exploding anxiety, Oswald struggled to stay alive as he flopped on the ground like a fish, the ghosts of Incelbordination creeping over him and laughing like high school children. Mrs. Mills was among that crowd as well. As was Trish. As was Hunter. As was an entire underworld of tormentors waiting to gobble up Oswald for a late night snack. Just because he was paranoid, didn’t mean the world wasn’t out to get him.

When it looked like he would be permanently dragged to hell for his romantic sins, Oswald awakened in a dark cell by sitting upright and gasping in a raspy voice. He could finally breathe again even though he was drowning in sweat. Hopefully the stain on his pants was sweat too. The little guy plopped backwards and continued to catch his lost breath whilst clutching his chest.

“What the fuck was all that? Where am I? Hello?!” No answers, only darkness. Imprisoned, blighted, depressive darkness. But even the black nothing was better than being anywhere near Antero’s warehouse. “Wait a minute…if I’m in this cell…where’s Antero?! Where is everybody else?! Where the fuck am I?! Somebody help me!”

Incelbordination, Chapter 13

Oswald had no earthly clue how much time he spent underneath the hood. He could have fallen asleep for all he knew. He could have had more concussed visions. But when the hood was removed, a dot matrix danced across his field of vision while his weary eyes adjusted to the light. He even took deep breaths just to make sure he was still alive. But just because he was alive, didn’t mean he wasn’t already in some kind of hell. Except Antero Magnus didn’t call it hell. He just called it a “favorite hideout”.

The dim lighting revealed a broken down abandoned warehouse with crates stacked as high as the eye could see, warped wood all around, and the most important feature, three chair bound human beings with hoods over their heads. No matter how vigorously the captives struggled, their ropes only seemed to get tighter. Moderating this kidnapping was Antero Magnus himself, drumming his fingers across the back of the middle captive’s chair. “Leave us. Don’t get caught,” he told his henchmen, who were happy to oblige.

Oswald’s bloodshot eyes still pounded in his skull as they adjusted, but his vision was clear enough to take in the horror of Antero gazing at him with those ice-cold cyan eyes. “What do you want this time? You do realize that the police are probably looking for you…”

Antero put a finger to his own lips and shushed his “buddy”. “Relax, Oz-Man. Nobody’s coming to rescue you or these three jack-offs I have here. Remember how I told you we don’t use the same meeting place twice?”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’m glad you asked that, Oswald, I really am. As one of my boys told you prior to busting you out of jail (you’re welcome, by the way), you have a decision to make. Do you want to let this world walk all over you or do you want to stand up for yourself?” Oswald tried to speak, but was once again cut off by Antero. “Ah, ah, ah! Before you answer that, allow me to reveal the people who will have a strong influence on your decision. Three people who don’t know what love is, yet they somehow believe they’re actually closer to you than a stranger.”

Antero proceeded to remove the hoods from his captives. On the far left, the blubbering muscle jock Wacey Judge, who didn’t look so tough with his mile long sad face. In the middle, there was Valerie Sand, who like her counterpart had a hard time keeping it together. And then on the right, Nikita Johnson, who was sporting a black eye not unlike the one Jessica had earlier in the evening. Oswald didn’t know whether to look at these three people in disgust, fear, or disturbance. His mind swirled for more reasons than having a fucked up brain.

“You see these three normies?” said Antero as he spread his arms out for display purposes. “Their lives are in your hands, Oswald. You can’t see it right now because the warehouse is so damn dark, but underneath their chairs are trap doors which will lead them to a cold, watery death. The chains attached to these trap doors are by your feet. If you so choose, you can pull those chains and finally stand up for what you believe in.”

“…You’re insane!” whined Oswald.

“No, little man, you’re insane!” snapped Wacey. “You think you have the right to kill me because of some friendly ribbing? Come on, man, that’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Friendly ribbing, my ass!” shouted Oswald, his hand firmly on Wacey’s trap door chain. “You’re the whole reason why I needed to learn how to fight in the first fucking place! Do you have any idea how close you came to killing my ass?! It’s too late for apologies, you meathead! Time to die!”

“No, stop!” pleaded Valerie. “Oswald, think about what you’re doing here. Look, I don’t condone what Wacey did to you. But if you kill him, there’s no turning back from that. The police will find you and lock you up for life. You’ll never have the chance to be the successful writer you’ve always wanted to be.”

“I wasn’t going to be a successful writer anyways, you little shit!” belted the dwarf, dropping Wacey’s chain and picking up Valerie’s. “Ever since I’ve signed up for college, you’ve done nothing but hold me back. I’d be lucky to graduate at all under your tutelage. You don’t see greatness in me. You don’t see greatness in any of your students, for that matter. We’re all just one big shit puddle of mediocrity to you! “

“That’s not true, Oswald!” cried Nikita, who then winced in pain from her fresh black eye. “She gives you those critiques because she wants you to be the best you can possibly be. I know this because I’ve gotten harsh critiques too. If I’m not immune to it, why should you be? Are you really going to kill your teacher over a bad grade?”

Oswald dropped Valerie’s chain and wasted no time in gathering Nikita’s slack. “No, I’m not going to kill my teacher. I’ll kill you instead! Here I thought Valerie was holding me back when it was you who turned me in to the police in the first fucking place. All for what? Because I don’t conform to your idea of what it means to be healthy? Newsflash, bitch! I’m not healthy. I’m sick! I’m so fucking sick of this goddamn world!”

“Yes! That’s what I like to see,” exclaimed Antero while throwing his hands in the air. “Passion! Energy! Emotion! Oh, this is better than going to the movies. Go ahead, Oz-Man, pull those motherfucking chains and prove your loyalty to Incelbordination!”

“Yeah, man, what are you waiting for?” blubbered Wacey. “Quit making us wait and kill us already. It’s not like we’re ever going to get out of here alive anyways.”

“Damn it, Wacey, shut the fuck up!” roared Nikita, putting the muscle jock in his place. She turned her attention back to Oswald with tears mounting in her swollen eyes, a sight the dwarf couldn’t help but feel for. “Listen to me, please. I know it doesn’t look like it right now, but I want you to know that…you are loved.”

“Oh please, spare me the bullshit!” yelled Antero while slapping Nikita upside the head.

“Shut up and keep your hands off of her, Antero!” snapped Oswald. “I want to hear what she has to say.”

“You heard the man,” mocked Antero. “Or should I say manlet. Go ahead, Nikita Johnsonville Brats, let’s see if you can talk yourself out of this shit.”

With all eyes on her, she took her time to catch her breath and steady her tears. She even formed a warm smile for Oswald as she spoke, to let him know her feelings were genuine. “Oswald, someone out there loves you for who you are. It doesn’t even have to be romantic love. It could just be a loving friendship. If you put yourself out there, someone will find you. This world is only a bad place if you make it that way. And it’s an even worse place if you let people like Antero tell you it is.”

Folding his arms impatiently, Antero sarcastically asked, “Are you done yet, princess? Good, then shut the fuck up and prepare to die. Go ahead, Oz-Man, pull the chains and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll grab a bite to eat at McDonald’s afterwards, maybe catch us some underage pussy.”

When Oswald furrowed his brows and lifted all three chains, the captives yelped in horror and cried once again. Valerie mouthed the word “please” over and over again in a last ditch effort for her life to be spared. Wacey tucked his chin either in shame or because he was too “manly” to let a midget see him cry. Nikita once again smiled warmly at Oswald as if she meant everything she said.

Three “strangers” whose lives were in his hands. One tug of the chains could put an end to his misery. Revenge could taste as sweet as cherry pie all over again. Antero was practically salivating at the idea of finally converting Oswald to his side. But in the end, the dwarf had no choice but to drop the chains and curl into a ball to cry his own eyes out. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, guys!” he sobbed. “I can’t do this anymore! I want to be loved! I want people to care about me!”

All three captives breathed a sigh of relief while Antero shook his head and slowly approached the dwarf. The Finnish-Swede terrorist knelt beside Oswald and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. “There, there, little guy. It’s okay. I understand if you can’t do it.”

Oswald lifted his face and gave a small smile of his own. “Really? You mean it?”

“Nah, I’m just kidding. You’re a puss-bag,” said Antero before kneeing the dwarf in the forehead and sending him instantly into dreamland. From there a cacophony of noises swirled in Oswald’s brain. He couldn’t decipher whether or not they were the captives’ screams, police sirens, or just a bunch of bullshit from his head injuries. If this was the day he would die, he could die knowing at least one person in this world loved him.