[Character intro for Jack Doomlancer]
Jack shifted in the egg shaped chair that hovered off the ground, sitting cross legged as he anxiously tapped on his knee, resting his head in his hand. Only minutes before the camera started rolling. Another interview, another ripple in the ocean that was the media and he had a yacht. His emerald eyes darted around his surroundings, hoping to find something to entertain him for another two minutes.
He sat in a room that was covered in dark curtains that looked like the scrim of a theater. Hi-tech photo lighting was aimed down at him and the chair opposite him. In it, a beautiful human female, she was dressed in a beige cocktail dress made from synthetic fabrics that clung to her body. Boy, did it cling to her body. Jack's eyes darted to her pretty face as she touched up her make-up. Her skin was a pleasant tan, not too orange, just as Jack preferred. No, wait, Jack wasn't picky, Jack liked anything that looked good. Boy, did she look good. Amber eyes, black hair, a nice set of....
"Thirty seconds, Mr. Doomlancer," the woman pleasantly reminded him, interrupting his train of thought. He actually had a dream the previous night about an anti-grav train and a worm-hole tunnel; he wondered if it had any meaning. He "fixed" his messy blonde hair into a slightly different mess. He took out a small translucent screen, no larger than an index card and three times as thick, from his pocket. He tapped the screen and it began to glow. With another two taps the screen reflected his face. He quickly checked to make sure he had nothing in his teeth, no visible hickeys, or anything else embarrassing. He quickly snapped a self portrait with its camera feature and put the screen back in his pocket.
"Three... two... one...." counted down the woman. At the last count, three Opaline orbs, each the size of a grapefruit floated forward from behind the reporter's chair. Each orb rotated itself to fix its single circular lens on one spot while hovering in place. One fixed itself on the reporter, and two fixed on Jack at two different angles. In pixelated letters, the word "recording" streamed from left to right on the lower hemisphere of each orb. Jack suppressed a snicker as he thought of a joke inspired about being surrounded by balls.
"Hi, I'm Oblivia Mars with Intergalactic Weekly with music sensation Jack Doomlancer," the woman said, almost over-enunciating each syllable, "her eyes moved passed the Videospheres to Jack, "Mr. Doomlancer, how are you?" she asked, her pleasant smile unfading.
"Please, Oblivia, call me Jack," he retorted, a cocky smile stretching from ear to ear.
"Jack, how are you doing?" she asked, quickly exhaling through a giggle.
"Eh, I'm okay, nothing to complain about," Jack shrugged as he shifted in his chair so both his legs swept sideways as though he was resting in a hammock.
"Except for the feud with Our Chemical Reaction?" she asked raising an eyebrow.
Jack laughed from the bottom of his stomach, completely tickled. "No, sweetheart, the Sadstreet Boys are not a problem."
"I have reports that they have had escalating messages on the social media application Starbound," Oblivia started reading from a holographic cue card, "and I quote, 'You sad mothereffers need to stop bitching about being said and come clubbing with me. Meet some chicks, drink and bang your problems away.' Did you mean that?" she asked raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, it wasn't aggressive!" Jack said, swinging forward in his chair so both feet planted firmly on the ground, "It was an offer! Then they said 'Aw nah man, we aren't about that we're deep or some shit,'" a tone of disgust rising in his voice.
"Then Galactic Media Zoo, GMZ, has footage of you using your Rave-ier, to put holes in the tires of the lead singer, Geralt Milkyway's moon rover," the reporter said, narrowing her eyes skeptically.
"There were mynoks on it," snapped Jack defensively.
"And then you released your new EP,
You're Sad, I'm Rad, and OCR seems to think it's about them,"rebutted Oblivia.
"What I meant," Jack sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "Is that happiness can't be achieved through..." as he used the word "achieved" he stopped paying attention to himself. He was pretty much on auto pilot now, pushing a button here and there, as he sat in his mental control room that he liked to imagine himself in while on auto pilot.
He used this ploy before: Step 1.) Deny. As he watched Oblivia listening to him, he knew he had to change gears. He didn't know what he was saying, the words came out naturally, but she looked convinced. Step 2.) Explain how he was misunderstood, and loves everybody. As his torrent of persuasion poured upon the unsuspecting Oblivia, he noticed her bubblegum pink lips turn to a sympathetic pout. Step 3.) Say some deep shit. Jack almost tuned back in again to see what he might have to comment on later, or reuse at some award show or on a cameo appearance on Dancing on the Stars, but he was too eagerly awaiting for step 4. Step 4.) Turn on the heat. He felt his lips curl into the same cocky smile he had worn before, but his mind was still elsewhere. To be exact: His mind was inside the beige cocktail dress. Step 5.) Bring it on home. Step 6 was not far from here. He saw Oblivia stand up from her chair and approach him. She brought her face down to his and kissed him. Jack pushed a big red button in his mental control room labeled
Step Six.
***
Jack pulled himself off the floor of the interview room, re-adjusted his clothes and hit the
end recording button on the Videosphere. He looked down at Oblivia who was still trying to figure out where in the galaxy her bra had went off to.
"So, how much of that can you use for the interview?" Jack asked, pulling a small black stick out of a box that he produced from his jacket pocket. He lit the end of it of the black stick and took a drag of it.
"Well," she said, as she finally managed to find the rest of her clothes, "If my career starts to tank, at least I have a sex tape now."
Jack nodded as he exhaled a puff of grey smoke as he took the Incinder from his lips, "So pretty much all of it. Sweet, well we all need a ratings safety net." He put the Incinder back in his mouth and waved, "Well, catch you at the Galactic Music Awards?" he asked as he made for the door.
"You said you'd see me Saturday!" she shouted back at him.
"Oh, did I?" Jack said as he screwed up his face trying to remember, "Huh, must have said that in step 7."
"Step 7?" she parroted back at him.
"Mindless after talk," Jack said in a matter-of-fact tone as he smirked and left the room.
Jack Doomlancer, Intergalactic Rockstar.
Last edited September 13, 2015 2:19 pm