Big city, bright lights, dark alleyways...
Even at ten at night, Chicago's lit up and bright as day, people rushing everywhere, places to go, things to do. As the lights blaze and the city hums, someone stands in a dark alley, a phone to their ear, their foot tapping. The phone rings, once, twice, then again, when suddenly, the phone clicks, and someone out in the suburbs answers.
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One hand grabs the ringing phone as the other frantically pushes buttons and jabs at analog sticks. The call button is push and the phone is transferred from fingers to shoulder and ear as both hands return to the game controller. With his eyes train on the screen, where a digital grim reaper is fighting his way across the screen, Greg answers.
"Hello?" He asks, only half listening for the answer.
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In the alley, the question is heard.
"Greg?" The girl asks, "Something's kinda come up...You're gonna have t-"
The words are cut off by a sound of celebration, then, "What?"
"I can't make it to he concert, Greg, I need you to fill in for me."
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Greg, still focus on the game, tries to remember what he's just heard.
"You need me t- WHAT?!" Greg drops the controller, all his attention now on the phone, as an ancient looking scroll sporting the words 'Game Over' appears on the screen and a skeleton begins to laugh at the boy in front of the tv.
"I can't... but...why..." Greg stammers before exclaiming, "Couldn't you call Chris?!"
"Dude, Chris is in Japan, remember?"
"Isn't there someone else? I can't do it! I-" Greg starts.
"Greg, I'm your instructor, remember? I taught you what you know, and I've heard you play everyday. I sure you can do this."
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There's a pause on the phone. A voice lacking most any trace of confidence asks, "A concert, Skye? Really? You want me to play at a concert?
"Were you listening at all to what I just told you?" Skye asks, "Or have you been preoccupied playing Skeleton Keys?"
Immediately the phone erupts into a guilty cry, "No!"
Skye snickers.
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Greg looks guiltily at the tv, still flashing the Skeleton Keys game over screen, as Skye tries again to boost his confidence.
"Dude, do you really think you'd be the first person I'd call if I didn't think you were good enough?"
Greg sits for a moment to try and fully take in this statement.
"I was the first one you called?"
"Of course."
Greg thinks for a moment. There were plenty of other people Skye could have called, but he was the first?
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A sneaking suspicion fills the air as Skye begins to wonder whether Greg's hung up on her. 'If he did...'
"Okay, fine," the phone suddenly comes to life, surprising her for a moment. "I'll go but when my mom finds out-"
"Is that the problem?" Skye asks nonchalantly, "Well if that's the case..."
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"The one that weighs a ton? Yeah, it's right here, why?" Greg crouches in his closet and pulls out a metal case, the contents of which are unknown, even to him.
"It doesn't weigh a ton, you're just weaker than a kindergartner." the phone teases.
"I told you, I let him win." Greg mumbles, pulling the case from the closet.
"Whatever. Just make sure you bring the case. As long as you've got a good excuse for being out so late and some 'witnesses', that case is basically your get-out-of-trouble-free pass."
"Okay, but how am I supposed to get there?" Greg asks skeptically.
"I'm sure you'll find something out."
"Yeah, that's helpful."
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"Well, good luck then." Skye replies.
"Thanks." There's a click and the phone goes dead. Skye shuts her phone and turns to an open door in the side of one of the buildings. She walks inside without a word and the door begins to swing shut behind her.
"Hey, make sure you wash your hands now!" a voice calls from inside.
"That's what I'm doing, Scout." Skye calls, "Watch out for-" A crash. The sound of laughter is the last thing to come from the kitchen before the door shuts completely and locks. On the roof of the building opposite, a silhouette glares at the door, waiting. Waiting for his chance.
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Greg hangs up the phone, slinging the case of his should by the shoulder strap. He stand, pondering, until a look appears on his face, suggesting a cartoon light bulb would feel right at home hovering over is head. He grabs the phone again and runs to the stairs.
"Hey, Rick!" Greg calls.
"WHAT?" yells a clearly irritated voice. 'Good,' thinks Greg as he dials the phone, 'He's in a good mood.'
The phone barely rings once when it's picked up and an overly enthusiastic "Hello! emanates from the phone.
"I need you to drive me somewhere!" Greg yells up the stairs before turning to the phone, "Jackson. If anyone asks, I'm at your house tonight, okay?"
"Why? Are we hanging out? You wanna play a game? Should I-"
"No, Jackson. I need you to lie like you've never lied before." Greg says, trying to keep as quiet as possible.
"Oooh, okay. I get it." Jackson hangs up the phone as Rick appears at the top of the staircase.
"I'm not taking you anywhere! Why should, you little emo..." Rick stomps down the stairs as he shouts, getting cut off as he reaches the bottom by a voice from the kitchen.
"Rick, be nice to your brother," their mother calls. She looks out the door, "Greg, where're you going?"
"Jackson's house. I'm going to, uh, spend the night."
She turns to Rick, "Marcus, you can-"
"Moomm."
"You name is Marcus, that's what I call you, that's who you are, and you are the boy who's going to drive their brother to Jackson's house," Greg's mom gives Rick a look. Rick crosses him arms and scowls for a bit, before finally giving in.
"Fine." He pushes Greg aside and storm out the door, calling, "C'mon, Dummkoff!"
Greg glares after Rick before running out after him while his mom returns to the kitchen. In the empty living room, the tv flashes its messages while the skeleton laughs. After a moment, the screen flickers, then goes black before lighting back up. Again, the screen shows an ancient scroll with the words game over inscribed on it. The skeleton is gone, and in it's place is a figure in a black cloak with the hood pulled over it's eyes and a scythe in hand. It looks up and one a pair of red eyes glows from beneath the hood. The screen flickers again, before going black again, this time for good.
