🧚 Shoulders of Giants 🧚

Fade in. We are focused on the face of Pixie, her eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. As we pan back a little, we see her subtle black eyeliner creeping out from behind her eyelashes, and extending out toward her eyebrows which were red, the same colour as her hair was this week. Her lips were pursed, an incisor snagging on the bottom lip as she seemed in thought. Our protagonist is laid on her bed, if you can call it that, in her stripped down bedroom in the apartment she shared with the other members of the Fetal Four.

The shot fades a little further, and we can see JJ Starfire sitting cross-legged at the side of her mattress, picking at a loose thread in his sock as he idly looks across at the prone Pixie.

You’re not afraid of anything, man.

She seems to think I didn’t.

She can seem to think whatever she wants. She wasn’t able to stop you, because she was face down eatin’ splinters, yes or no?

People always think they can just push me around, its actually a little upsetting. Or it would be, if I gave a shit. I’m over it. Kayla can flap her yellow British teeth until they fall out about how it wasn’t her fault she lost.

First place is the winner, and everyone else is a loser. If the belt was on the line, you’d have the belt.

I don’t even want her belt. I mean, I’d totally take it from her just because she’s a twatwaffle. But then someone else can have it. What’s the point of a belt, anyway?

Recognition?

Recognition of what? That I beat an idiot? The record book already clearly states that I am better than her, I don’t need to prove anything against her.

But like, other people, you know?

I don’t want the pity belt. Forget about it.

Like I said, every fan of Project Honor already knows that I am on a level above her, and I heard the shit that fell out of her mouth over the last week. She’s so angry, like it is my fault that I won. Maybe because I’m new in the game, she expects kudos to be paid. She’s gonna be fuckin’ hungry for a long time, though, because I don’t jump when people say jump. So, if she wants to get up in her feelings about it, fine. I’ll take her belt off her, just to teach her a lesson in humility.

I mean, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night. I know you want a shiny belt.

You’re right. I do. I want Elena’s.

Starfire, now standing above Pixie, laughs aloud.

Hey, motherfucker. I could.

Maybe in your dreams.

At least I have dreams.

The pair of them start making their way towards the kitchen, specifically the pink and green handpainted oven. It really did look like clown vomit and none of the Fetal Four had any idea how it came to appear like this. It was likely Vhodka Marie, because her brain had certainly been re-wired by a member of the 4chan community, or something.

Pixie was trying to open the top cupboard, but even on her tiptoes, it was uncomfortable, and thus she went about directing JJ Starfire like an air traffic controller through finding ingredients and implements from the various cupboards.

Have you invited the others? I’m sure they’d enjoy baking..

JJ, sweetie. You have met the others. He can’t be trusted to crack an egg supervised, he’ll somehow figure a way to fuck us over. And she? I don’t know who or what broke her, but they did a number and she ain’t coming out of that darkness anytime soon. You know what, JJ?

What?

LOL. And week by week Kayla just fails further down the card. Now she’s fighting the other Marf, the backup Marf, secondary Marf, see if that’s her level.

She’s failing downwards, trying to find her level. Devaluing that title week by week. By the time I get my hands on it, if I ever do, it’ll be a whole ordeal to try and make it worth something.

She smiles, as she continues to fold her spoon through the butter, egg and flour mixture, before holding out a narrow, black-tipped index finger, pointed towards some cocoa powder. She begins to sprinkle in the cocoa into the yellowed base, folding with the other hand, thickening the mixture twist by twist.

They are baking some kind of chocolate cake, that much is obvious. There is a scented aura hanging over the kitchen, a lingering one that Noelle had complained about, and Asher had asked a lot of questions about, when they were infusing the butter earlier on in the day. Frankly, the whole place reeked of cannabis and they’d initially felt self-conscious about it but by now most of their feelings on the matter were somewhere way below them. They were riding the crest of the wave of the joint they’d shared in the bed whilst they waited for the butter to cool and set.

As she finished pouring out the mixture into the baking tray and started tilting it to ensure an even distribution of the mix, JJ slinked away to where their shared bathroom was. Pixie propped herself up on the counter, her shoulder leaning against the wall, and legs far up from the floor, swinging freely.

The camera pivots to follow her focus and we notice that she is staring intently at nothing in particular, and her fingers are circling one another in a repetitive motion, pushing into the opposite palm, and then back again.

The sound of beeping from the oven jolts Pixie from her daydreaming abruptly, so much so that she almost loses her balance sitting on the countertop. She can hear a poor stifling of laughter come from the adjacent room, followed by muttering, and she knew that Noelle had noticed her.

Throughout the apartment, the wafting ripple of weed and baked chocolate chocolate was overwhelming and suffocating. The sound of the fridge opening, the same fridge which she was leaning up against, startled her. JJ’s face curled from the edge of the door, his dilated pupils meeting hers, and then she hopped down.

Damnit, where did you come from?

The bathroom. I told you I was going to the bathroom.

Wanna help decorate?

What do you think I’m doing here?

Honestly, I just assumed you were here like a vulture to consume the carcass of the brownie’s remains.

Well, that too. But no, I want to make fun of Noelle by decorating a brownie with a fuckin’ unibrow.

What about Asher?

Hmm. Hadn’t thought about it. Maybe a lightning bolt. He looks like he puts his finger in an outlet every morning.

I quite like his style. At least he isn’t a copycat of every other tattooed wannabe viking cosplayer that seems to be in wrestling now.

Bruh. There are like three stereotypes. Goth with black makeup. Musclebound tattooed tanned people, and blond chicks with fake tits who think they’re a viking.

I love how self-aware you are.

What?

JJ pauses, wondering if she’s actually not self-aware that she’s a perfect description of one of those stereotypes. It takes an awkward amount of time, before JJ finally swallows his fear.

You know, like, sometimes you wear dark purple makeup instead of black, so maybe not.

Man, I’m not a cliche.

Sure you’re not. So anyway. What is the likelihood that I get this through security to Brazil?

Oh I saw this one guy on TikTok last week. He wraps it in saran and hides the smell with the smell from a roll-on anti-perspirant. Plus its not nugs, right? Its chocolate. I can’t even smell it.

Yeah it probably doesn’t even smell. Cool, I’m gonna hand them out at the show.

Whatever, ignore her. She’s got the sense of smell of a bloodhound because she is probably a former junkie, and she’s definitely a bitch. It’ll be fine. Help me decorate!

Well there are three that are basically the same thing, weird guys in makeup and or strange masks, who are clearly so crippled by extreme body dysmorphia that they want to by anonymous.

I mean, if we’re being reductive, how many beefy buffoons with bad animal tattoos on their neck and entirely too much reliance on cheap laughs do we have to bunch you up with? More than you’d think. But you’re right. A bunch of lost souls. We can just draw a pentagram on the forehead of a skull and I’m sure at least four of them are gonna be like “oh she knows me so well”, whilst I nod my head and smile, hoping they don’t trick me into incorrectly talking about their pet ball python, when it was actually a bearded dragon they had.

What about the other ones? You know, the guy who nearly beat Kayla at Wired Consequences, and his girlfriend?

To be honest, Jason Long is always an enigma. He took Kayla into deep waters at Wired Consequences and I think he has what it takes to go toe to toe with the best of them on any given night. Respect. And he has this girl following him around. I think he’s gonna be more concerned about that situation, so lets make them a conjoined brownie.

You think he’s gonna simp for her, don’t you?

Men usually do. Unfortunately.

JJ writes BIG SIMPIN across two brownies, incredibly pleased with himself.

Nah man, it can’t be that obvious.

What the everliving..?

Stickman sex. Woman on top. He’s layin’ down for her.

And of course a sun in the corner.

Of course.

You’re an underappreciated talent as an artist.

When I die, there will be murals, and mourning, and statues.

Yeah, people will read about you in art books.

Then there’re the two you beat at Wired Consequences.

They aren’t getting a brownie.

Hater.

Yep. Don’t deserve the effort. I get more fight on a daily basis from that scowling succubus in the opposite room.

I heard that.

Come get your brownie, then, bitch.

As if I’d ever consume anything made by you. It carries all the saccharin scent of your childhood trauma and abandonment issues, it’d probably give me depression. In fact, I’d probably slit my wrists and start an emo band by the third bite.

Both JJ and Pixie look at each other, raising their eyebrows at the purity of the venom that gets volley through doorways in this establishment.

We can repurpose her one, anyway.

Turn the unibrow into a beak. Hoot hoot, motherfucker.

Fallhoot!

Right, and I’m on that hype train. Its interesting to me, the way different people approach the same problem. We are both new to the whole frickin’ organisation, we know nobody here, and have taken completely separate paths, and yet we both find ourselves in the same position, right?

Well, no. She has friends.

I legit went out with the former Grand Champion, the longest serving champion in Project Honor history, to smash some shit up. Don’t tell me I don’t have friends in Project Honor!

Does he know your name?

Jerk.

Thanks!

She’s taken the strange social butterfly route, it suits her. I’m excited by her. I only spoke to her a little, and I think she has what it takes to help push the envelope for all of us. I was thinkin’ earlier about how we all have to use each other to get better. She’s someone I see myself intersecting with often. And I love how much detail you put into that owl. How about some red paint on her talons?

Slut it up a little?

Yaaaaassss---

Detect the irony, Jay.

He takes a deep breath, and continues drawing. He pushes the owl brownie back onto the tray to dry, and then starts drawing a dope ass goatee and some infuriated looking eyes in the middle of the next square.

Oh shit, Julius. I love that motherfucker. He just makes me happy to watch, man. Like, when he gets on a roll, when he gets on the end of an idea and lets the creativity go, there’s nothing like it.

He was always my favourite before you went to Fallout. Actually, he’s probably still my favourite.

Yeah. I like him more than me, too.

I mean apart from you.

Of course you did. It’s fine. I legit like him more than I like myself. But if it comes down to it, I’ll dump him on his head without even the hint of hesitation.

I’ll definitely pout at you. Just know that.

JJ looks up, finished with drawing the final brownie. Pixie grabs a hold of the Julius brownie, and takes a big bite out of his head, further causing JJ to frown. The pattering sound of bare feet walking across a sticky wooden floor lets them know that one of their housemates is on the move and it isn’t a few seconds before a haystack of split black and red frazzled, back-combed hair moves through the kitchen, attached to a lithe, pale young man with smeared makeup around his eyes.

Oi.

Pixie steps in front of the tray of brownies.

Move ou’a tha way dick’ead, I’m gettin’ a glass a wa’a. And I’m ‘avin one square o’ drugs or else I’m tellin’ your dad that you need to go re’ab. Like Wine’ouse. But he’s big, and ‘ard, and you won’t say ‘no no no’.