What Do You Mean I'm The King Now??

I hear the voices outside begin to fade off into the distance, as the mob of loan sharks move further away, and I let out a sigh of relief. Then I take the opportunity to survey my surroundings.

At the moment, I'm sitting in some abandoned warehouse type building, in a large open space, with peeling walls and floors littered with trash and smashed wooden crates, the contents of which have long since been abandoned or stolen. Like much of Riverbend, the place also reeks of rot and feces, and I scrunch my nose a bit in disgust. Then suddenly, I hear a voice call to me from my right.

"Hey, you okay there, mister?"

I look over and spot a human child standing there, staring back at me. It's a boy, looking to be about nine- or ten-years-old. The boy's hair is a mess of dirty blond locks, emphasis on the dirt, and he has wide, mismatched eyes, one blue, one green, that watch me with a bemused intensity as his thin lips curl into a smirk.

Henry?

I shake my head. They look similar, but the boy isn't my youngest brother. The thought, however, does suddenly pull back a memory, one of my last moments on Earth.

In it, me, Nate and Henry are playing with a gaming console, a fighting game, I think, and we're arguing, as we usually are. I can't quite remember what about. I think it was about who got to use the better controller, there being three of us and only one official brand controller, the other two being knockoffs that didn't work as well. And I think, I think my parents are there as well, somewhere in the background. That's right. Mom's in the kitchen, making some chicken stew. I can smell it. And Dad's working on his laptop, typing away diligently even though he's already returned home from work. It's the five of us, together in the living room. A family. My family.

A sudden pang of homesickness strikes me, as an expansive loneliness takes hold.

I wonder what they're doing right now? Is Nate and Henry still sound asleep? Has a year really passed? Or has it just been a literal blink of the eye? When will this dream finally end?

Suddenly, I'm filled with a feeling I can't quite describe. It's like standing next to a high ledge and having the urge to jump. It's not suicidal, but more a morbid curiosity, a "what if". What if my HP dips twenty-five percent below zero? What if I don't merely fall unconscious, but "die" in this world. What happens then? Does this world simply vanish? Do I just wake up back in my bed?

Before I can ponder these questions any further, I hear the boy call out to me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Hey, you okay, mister?" he asks, repeating his earlier question.

I reply with a smirk, in part to put my earlier thoughts to bed, and say, "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks, kid. You really helped me out of a pinch back there."

The boy giggles, then replies, "No worries. By the way, you have a name, mister?"

"It's Ash. What about you?"

The boy looks surprised that I ask, and he appears to think for a moment before finally replying, "You can call me the reverse Ron Moore." His response draws a look of curiosity from me.

"That's an odd way to introduce yourself, Ron. Why 'the reverse'?"

Again, the boy giggles, his high-pitched laughter echoing through the empty the space of the warehouse. "Because my name describes others more than myself. So it's reversed, you see?"

Oh wow, that's deep. Like Mariana Trench deep. Was I that deep at ten-years-old? Am I even that deep right now?

Ron's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I hear him say, "By the way, Ash, you're strong, right?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're a king, aren't you?"

At the sound of the boy's question, my eyes instantly narrow.

He knows I'm a king? How? Hold on...did he know who I was when he offered to help? If so, then what is this? A trap?

I feel my body instinctively tense. "How do you know that?" I ask suspiciously.

The boy shrugs in reply. "There've been rumors floating about for a while now, about two elves that frequently visit Riverbend, a man and a woman, and the woman keeps addressing the man as king. That's you, right, Ash? I mean, it's pretty rare to see elves around these parts, after all."

Oh, he just heard about me through rumors. That's all that it was. That's fine, I guess.

I feel myself relax a bit. Then turning up my nose, I reply, "I see. Well, the answer to your previous question, Ron, is, 'Yes'. I'm strong. Extremely, in fact."

"Really?" The boy's eyes open wide with excitement. "What can you do? Do you go around fighting monsters? Do you have any stories?"

"Hmph, I was just fighting monsters yesterday, in fact. A whole horde of a thousand goblins."

"Oh wow, a thousand! That's insane!"

"Psh, it was a piece of cake. I just used this." I raise my left hand, and suddenly, a small flame springs to life.

"Fire magic!" the boy gasps in awe.

I nod, then standing up, I flail my hands wildly about for a bit before saying, "And some special kung fu. I even beat a bugbear with it."

"Bugbear? What's that?"

"You don't even know what a 'bugbear' is?" I shake my head in mock-disapproval. "It's this huge monster, about twenty feet tall and big as a house." I throw my hands into the air. "With razor sharp claws and teeth like daggers. It can smash a tree to pieces which just a single swipe of its paws. Oh, and it also has really bad breath."

"Bad breath?" the boy asks, leaning in a bit closer.

I nod vigorously. "So bad, in fact, that if you breathe it, you instantly die!"

I hear the boy gasp, taking a step back in surprise. "A-and you beat something like that, Ash? All by yourself?"

"Well, not all by myself," I admit, "I did have some help from my companion, Candy."

"Candy?"

"The woman from the rumors. Here, I'll show you." I reach into my inventory, pulling out the golden figurine of my elf companion, holding it out in the palm of my hands. At the sight of the item, I notice the boy's eyes start to glimmer.

"W-wow. I-is that real gold?" he stutters.

"Maybe? I don't really know."

"C-can I hold it?"

I eye the boy for a second, then shrug my shoulders. "Sure, why not?" I'm not sure why I trust him so much, a stranger I just met. Maybe it's because he reminds me of Henry. Regardless, I hand the item over, and the boy takes it with shaking hands. He inspects the figurine for a while, turning it around slowly to view it from every angle. Then I see him look up, a pensive expression on his face.

"Hey, Mister Ash, can I ask you something?"

What'd he suddenly get all formal for?

"What is it, Ron?"

"You're strong, right? Like really strong? You can beat anyone?"

"Yeah, like I said, I can beat a thousand goblins, no sweat," I reply light-heartedly. But this time, the boy doesn't even crack a smile. His mismatched eyes are dark and brooding, and it's clear he has more he wants to say. So I drop silent, waiting for him to continue. A full minute passes before he suddenly looks up.

"My sister, she-!" He shakes his head. "I mean, can you please-!" He stops, falling silent once more, and his eyes drop to the floor, averting my gaze.

"What is it, kid? You can tell me."

The boy looks up again and gives me a nod. "Okay, but you have to come here. I have to whisper it, because it's supposed to be a secret." I move in, and the boy continues in my ear, "Ash, the truth is...your mama's ugly."

Without warning, the boy spits in my ear and a wad of saliva hits my eardrum, causing me to stumble backwards in surprise. "W-what the hell?!" I exclaim, losing my balance and falling to the ground. Then I hear the sound of a door creak, and I look up to see the boy making a mad dash out the exit.

W-wait! He still has my figurine! That little runt!

"Candy! Don't worry, I'm coming to save you!" I yell, jumping to my feet before I burst through the doorway of the warehouse. As I exit back into the alleyway, I just catch sight of the boy, rounding the corner ahead, and I give chase, shouting, "C'mere, you little brat!"

At the sound of my voice, the boy looks back and throws me a raspberry, then continues down the street, running with surprising speed even with his shorter stride. I manage to keep up for about ten minutes, as he leads me on a wild goose chase through several alleyways and backyards, before I see him slip into a small drainage pipe too narrow for me to enter. I watch as he disappears, and when I reach the pipe, I kick it hard in frustration. "F.u.c.k! I won't forget this, you brat," I cuss aloud. Then, as I'm standing there, looking like a fool, a thought suddenly occurs to me, as I remember what the boy had said previously.

His name. What did he say his name was again? Something weird. "The reverse" Ron Moore, I think. Wait. If I reverse his first and last name… F.u.c.k, that cheeky little bastard. Well played, Sir, well played.