Chapter 45: I Quit

Having clocked out for the first day, of filming, Niall whom was currently at home, typed away on his laptop.

Considering how little time he’d spent on working on [The Spire of Fate] due to how quickly things had clicked into place for [Silver Comets] these past two months, he was finally getting the free time he needed to invest a good chunk of his time into it again.

Having written the first act, he was now focused on the second act.

Within each spirepoint Tristan reaches, he is tasked with passing a test to free the Elder God trapped within. Cassarae also journeys with him, guiding him on each venture, as she is the key to granting passageway into the spirepoints.

Afterall, each spirepoint has now practically become a realm of its own with its Gods trapped in the most obscure of places within.

That said, each test Tristan eventually faces was set up by the Elder Gods themselves to determine if the person freeing them was worthy of their help in going against the other Elder Gods.

The first Elder God he frees, is Nyxveil, God of Shadows, who was trapped within the spear of a shadowy humanoid monster. To free him, Tristan has to battle said monster.

However, as the battle continues, Tristan realizes he’s not a monster, but rather, his very shadow in a technical sense--the darkness within his soul.

To win, he has to accept that darkness whole, and not reject it. After he does, not only does he free Nyxveil, he also gains a portion of his powers as a spear runs through his chest.

The second Elder God he frees is Solathra, Goddess of Flames. To free her, Tristan constantly has to temper a raging frustration within him, one that almost ruins the growing friendship between himself and Cassarae as they journey up a precarious volcanic mountain.

Upon reaching the top of said mountain, Solathra reveals herself, blooming from Tristan’s heart as a wisp till she assumes her true form. She reveals she had been meddling with his emotions to see if he could keep them under control. She also imbues him with a bit of her powers.

As for the third Elder God, Kaelthor, God of Storms, his test was very straightforward. Seated on a throne in a resplendently elysian hall, he asks Tristan to make his way up three small stairs to reach him while speaking his truth.

With each step Tristan takes, a crushing weight descends upon his being as he’s assaulted by a question, all of which he answered to the beat of his own drum. Upon standing face to face with Kaelthor, the Elder God praises and grants him a small dominion over thunder and lightning.

Seemingly satisfied with the work he’d put in as he rounded up the 12th Chapter, Niall dialed down his Gift of True Aptitude.

Quickly, he switched off the laptop, took a shower and proceeded to hit the sack.

Though it wouldn’t make a difference if he didn’t, especially given the peculiar gift he was blessed with, Niall’s still considered himself human and just went about doing what most humans did.

There was also the fact that he had a long day of filming ahead of him tomorrow, hence he’d much rather be not just at his best, but at his very best.

*

The crew was prepping for the first shot of the day.

It was also the very first scene the audience would be treated to Owen’s singing, and by extension Niall, who would be singing in real time in front of the crew.

Though most of them had heard [Polaroid], and equally snippets from the other songs to be used in the movie, they actually hadn’t seen anyone of the actors involved in the movie singing live.

To that effect, one could assume that a good part of the crew were actually looking forward to it.

Was Niall really as good at singing as they’d heard in his song? Or was he just another one of those artists reliant on auto-tune?

They were about to find out.

So, as the diner was filled to the brim with extras, alongside a particularly robust man with a balding head whom would be playing the role of Owen’s shitty boss, Harrison called out;

"Roll sound,"

"Sound is speeding," the sound crew responded.

"Roll camera," he called out again.

"Camera’s speeding," the main cinematographer and other cameramen responded.

"Slate?" Harrison gestured.

"Silver Comets. Act 1. Scene 6. Take 1." the clapperloader released the stick as he casually said.

Then, after a brief pause, his eyes darting over to Niall who stood outside the restaurant and gave him a thumbs up, he declared;

"Action!"

-

{Silver Comets | 13th, September 2016 | Act 1 | Scene 6 | Take 1}

Rush hour was already in full swing, orders flying about as dishes clattered and servers blitzed into the backrooms, then out to the diner itself with orders in hand as they swiftly dashed between tables.

Standing in the center of that controlled chaos like a self-appointed king though was Rick Dalton, manager of the Riverside Grill.

The man checked his watch for what felt like the twentieth time, his shoes tapping lightly against the tiled floors.

Then Owen rushed through the entrance, two minutes late, his hair disheveled and his eyes puffy.

Unfortunately, for him, Rick had just been looking for yet another excuse to badger him.

"Ah, there he is,"

No sooner had a couple of the servers rushing about heard that, they collectively seemed to groan.

It was almost like they knew what was coming, especially since Rick had made it a habit to have an audience whenever he wanted to exercise his fickle worth.

"Running a little behind today, Owen?"

"Look Rick, I’m sorry. But can we please not do this?"

Instead of showing some empathy though, Rick simply neglected his request and spoke as he stepped closer;

"You know, the thing about being part of a team is that everyone has to pull their weight,"

"Two minutes, Rick. I was only two minutes late. Aren’t I here now?" Owen tried to reason with the man, his expression implying that he really didn’t want this song and dance again.

"It’s about commitment," Rick ignored his plea, and pointed dramatically toward the kitchen, to which some employees exchanged exhausted looks.

"It’s about sacrifice,"

"It’s about owning up to responsibility and being accountable for your actions." Rick continued, his tirade only just starting.

"Every single day I come in early. Every day I sacrifice for this place," the manager continued, Owen’s eyes twitching slightly in restrained annoyance.

"That’s why I’m successful. That’s why you work under me," he gestured outwardly, prompting Owen to suck in a deep breath through the nose, his jaw tightening.

"And that’s why you’ll never be successful, Owen. Because you don’t understand responsibility." Rick concluded with a smirk.

The restaurant suddenly felt very quiet after that.

A few servers slowed to watch. The regulars watched on in concern. Even the cooks peeked out from the kitchen.

As for Owen, that was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

From the gaze he was levelling Rick, one could almost see the plethora of complex emotions that flickered in his irises.

Then, something in him snapped as Rick proceeded to talk;

"Just so you know, I’m ducking your pay so you’d better get to it now--"

Casually, and without allowing him to complete the sentence, Owen walked towards a part of the wall and picked up the guitar they placed there for decoration.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

Not bothering to engage him, Owen simply smiled.

Not the happy kind of smile, but rather, the kind that appeared right before a disaster... one that practically every employee in the restaurant recognized.

"I asked you a question--"

Owen didn’t give him the chance to finish before he strummed the guitar and sang;

You say "team player," but you don’t play fair, fudgin’ credit stealer,

Raging in caps lock, like the world’s gonna end, by the end of the day,

If stress was money, you’d be so rich, still won’t buy you a little decency,

I wish you did though, maybe you’d finally get, some implants on that head.

Then Owen stopped, a shit-eating grin on his features.

By now, Rick’s face was riper than a tomato, shocked gasps, snapped pictures and suppressed laughter threatening to break the undeniably loud silence in the diner.

Then,

"You are fired!" Rick screamed in fury, his finger pointed like a class monitor at Owen.

"No," the former employee pulled off his employee badge, his expression pissed as he tossed it onto the floor;

"I quit."

Then, shoving the guitar into the manager’s hands, he walked out the door.

"Cut!"

-

"That was fantastic! Great shot!" Harrison commended everyone.

Yet, as Niall walked back into the restaurant and all smiles, it dawned on every individual whom had witnessed it.

It had just been a single verse from a full-length song... and yet, the verdict was clear.

Niall Parker was indeed one multitalented hell of an artist.

Advance Chapters are available on Patreon!

/Caer07