Chapter Text
“I don’t understand!” Nigel exclaims. He’s staring at Doctor Marsh beseechingly, like he’s expecting her to declare this all a big joke.
“Of course, you don’t, Billingsley, you don’t understand ambition. With the idol in my possession, I can rule over Jumanji!” Doctor Marsh scoffs, flicking her bob evilly.
“But- the idol shouldn’t belong to anyone! It’s part of the delicate eco system-” Nigel’s plea is cut short as Doctor Marsh cocks her pistol.
“Save it. You might be happy to stay here and rot, Billingsley, but some of us want more from life.” Doctor Marsh says.
“I wouldn’t mind more from life.” Antwan says.
Nigel twitches, turns and gives Antwan a wounded look. Doctor Marsh throws Antwan an irritated glance.
“What do you mean?” She asks, sharply.
“Well, it would probably be easier to get the idol with a bit of help and burying two bodies by yourself is hard work, but two people burying one corpse…” Antwan trails off and gives Doctor Marsh a wink. She looks slightly flustered, a light blush settling on her cheeks.
Bingo, Antwan thinks.
“You want to help me?” Doctor Josephine Marsh asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear with the hand not holding the gun.
“Yeah, why not, don’t want to get stuck with Park Ranger Nige, here, do I? Not when I could work with you.” Antwan says, treating Doctor Marsh to one of his best smiles. She smiles back at him.
“Oh, you dickhead.” Nigel says, sounding genuinely angry, glaring at Antwan. “I was helping you-”
“Yeah, thanks for the lift, mate, I’d give you a five-star rating but I’m not sure my app works in the arse end of tropical nowhere.” Antwan says, dismissively, whilst also marvelling at how perfectly Nigel’s voice actor got the inflection on ‘dickhead’ . Nigel drops his gaze, looking suitably dejected.
“How do you think you could help me?” Doctor Marsh asks.
Antwan takes a step forward, putting himself ever so slightly between Nigel and Doctor Marsh’s gun. “Well, obviously I’d be bowing to your greater knowledge on all subjects, but I do have a very useful, potentially magical map and access to a Jeep. Once we deal with Nigel, of course.”
Doctor Marsh lowers her gun a little. “And why would you want to help me?” she asks.
Antwan sighs. “Listen. I just want to get to the end of this little quest as quickly as possible and I figure the hot, clever chick with actual goals would be a much better bet than sticking with tree-hugging Grizzly Adams.”
Nigel lets out an indignant splutter whilst Doctor Marsh smirks and holsters her gun. Antwan bides his time.
“Maybe I’ll let you come along for a ride, then.” Doctor Marsh says. “I’ve tracked Delingpole’s location to somewhere relatively nearby- he’s finding it hard to control the idol’s power.”
“And you’ve worked out why, I’m guessing?” Antwan asks.
Doctor Marsh smiles. “Of course I have- the fool only took the idol with him when he ransacked the temple. He didn’t realise that he also needed the Sceptre of Will to exert control over the idol. I intend to travel to the temple and retrieve the sceptre immediately.” she says.
Antwan smiles. “Great, is there anything else that you want to tell me before we kill Nigel and leave?” he asks.
Doctor Marsh shakes her head, glossy bob swishing from side to side. “No, that’s everything.”
“Cool beans.” Antwan says, drawing his fist back and punching Doctor Marsh as hard as he possibly can in the face. She goes down like a sack of potatoes in a blonde wig.
“Fuck me, should’ve aimed away from her specs.” Antwan grumbles, raising his bruised knuckles to his lips. He drops to his knees and starts going through Doctor Marsh’s pockets.
“You just punched a woman!” Nigel exclaims. Antwan glances up at him as he slides Doctor Marsh’s gun into his satchel. Nigel looks pale and rather unnerved.
“She was going to shoot us both in the face, I think punching her was a very mild response, actually.” Antwan says. He finds a handy little notebook in Doctor Marsh’s pocket. He flicks through it and finds only one page of random letters, and, confusingly, a little drawing of a Roman emperor with laurels on his head.
“We should have a look around, see if there’s a clue to deciphering this somewhere.”
“I thought you had betrayed me.” Nigel says, his voice quiet. Antwan, satisfied he’s looted everything useful off the unconscious body of Doctor Marsh, stands up. He pats Nigel on the arm.
“Nah, if we’re going to have the whole ‘double-crossing’ plotline it’ll come much later in the game, it’s hard to establish a decent story arc if the betrayal happens early, plus there’s no stakes if the player hasn’t had time to form an emotional connection with the NPC.” Antwan says, gesturing between them.
Nigel frowns at him. “What are you talking about?”
Antwan rolls his eyes. “Story design, my good man. Trust me, I know how to write a winner, and this game is already a little questionable. I mean, first girl we get introduced to and she’s a bad guy and I took her out by flirting with her? Superproblematic.”
Nigel looks nonplussed. “You move your hands a lot when you speak.” he says, after a moment of confused silenced.
“Yeah, I’m a dynamic guy.” Antwan waves his arms around a bit more, to demonstrate. “Look, she was gonna kill us with nary a second thought, and when she wakes up, she’ll be fine! She’s got a PhD, she can prescribe herself some painkillers.”
“It still doesn’t feel right.” he says, looking down at Doctor Marsh.
Antwan sighs. “Fine, we’ll put your fellow NPC in the recovery position before we leave, if that assuages your guilt.”
Antwan has a sneaking suspicion that they should probably just kill her, or she’ll be trouble down the road, but he doesn’t know if being violent will influence the game’s outcome. Perhaps the merciful, cautious method would be best, and he can do a smash and grab playthrough in the future.
They don’t find anything else of use in the lab, nothing which might explain the random letters and numbers in Doctor Josephine Marsh’s notebook. It’s frustrating, but he supposes he’ll get the answers soon enough, if he plays the game right.
Antwan pulls the lab door shut behind them stepping back out into the forest clearing. The rain has stopped completely, leaving behind a steamy, heavy heat. He strips out of his jacket before climbing back into the Jeep and Nigel does the same. The game developers have seen fit to render some freckles on Nigel’s nicely corded forearms, which Antwan finds himself slightly distracted by.
“So, we need to go and get that sceptre then, keep it for leverage?” Antwan says, when they are both settled back in the front of the Jeep.
Nigel frowns. “We need to get the sceptre to stop Delingpole.”
Antwan shrugs. “That’s what I said.”
Nigel’s lips twitch a little as if he’s trying to suppress a smile. “It isn’t, you said we needed it ‘for leverage’.”
“Six of one. Either way, we have to go to the temple, right?” Antwan says, opening his own notebook. As expected the Temple of the Golden Hoatzin is now marked on the map, and details about the Sceptre of Will have been neatly written down. Pretty handy.
He turns back to Dr Marsh’s notebook and its weird page of letters, which is decidedly less handy. The little Roman emperor drawing is bugging the shit out of him because the answer is on the tip of his brain, a really obvious answer which he can’t quite reach. He stares at the text, hoping for something to pop out to him, which it doesn’t, of course, because the text remains the same confusing pattern:
Wfikp fev gfzek knf vzxyk jzo jzo uvxivvj jflky
Fev yleuivu reu jvmvekp wfli gfzek jvmve jvmve wzmv jzo uvxivvj vrjk
“Is it a code of some kind?” Nigel asks, in that completely unhelpful way NPCs have of pointing out the obvious.
“Yeah, do you reckon? I was just thinking that ‘wfikp’ might not actually be a real word, I’m so glad you’re here to confirm that.” Antwan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stares at the page, willing for the answer to come.
“Another word for ‘code’ is ‘cipher’.” Nigel says, blandly.
“Thank you so much, Mr Dictionary.” Antwan replies.
“Technically I’d be Mr Thesaurus, seeing as I offered you a synonym.”
“How about you be Mr-Silent-NPC-who-just-drives-the-fucking-Jeep?” Antwan suggests. As comebacks go, it’s not a very good one, but Nigel quietens down anyway.
After another few minutes of staring at the gibberish he throws the notebook down in disgust. Nigel’s expression remains studiously neutral, which is extremely annoying. Antwan determines to just stare out of the window, which is at least unbelievably pretty.
“According to the map, we’re nearing the temple.” Nigel says after a while.
“Fucking A.” Antwan replies as they pull into yet another jungle clearing. Before them are some ancient stone steps, covered in thick green moss. At the top of the steps is an impressive stone arch, with thick vines crawling up stone pillars which are inscribed with ancient hieroglyphs, weathered and faded with time.
“Ah, this is the place from the loading screen.” Antwan says as they make their way towards the steps. Nigel gives him a curious look, like he wants to ask Antwan what he means. But when he opens his mouth, he’s back to being the NPC.
“This is the Temple of the Golden Hoatzin, within it we should be able to find the Sceptre of Will which Doctor Marsh told us about.”
“Yep, not forgotten that yet, my hand still hurts a bit from when I punched her.” Antwan replies. And then he frowns, because why does his hand hurt? Maybe he actually managed to punch something in his games room when he swung for Dr Marsh.
They climb the steps and enter the temple proper, which is in ruins. The vague outlines of several buildings are still in evidence, half crumbled walls, gaps in the stonework where windows probably once were. Pretty standard ancient temple woo-woo shit, really. Antwan’s a little disappointed with how derivative it is.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Nigel says, awe in his voice, as he stares at the remains of the temple. Antwan glances at him and squashes down the weird feeling he gets in his stomach when he sees the openly admiring expression on Nigel’s face, which has been inspired entirely by a big lump of old stones.
Instead, Antwan shrugs. “It’s alright. Once you’ve seen some ruins you’ve seen them all, right? Went to Machu Picchu as part of Soonami’s Christmas party a few years back, that was so fucking boring. Got bitten by a llama and had a nosebleed because of the altitude.”
Nigel sighs, giving Antwan a slightly frustrated look. “But the carvings in the stone- these were made by people who lived thousands of years before us! Doesn’t that inspire you a little bit?”
Antwan shakes his head. “Nah, those were created by some talented, extremely underpaid game devs probably on an absolutely miserable grind schedule. I bet if we look hard enough, we’ll find a reference to Mass Effect or Lemmings or something else they’ve worked on.”
Nigel’s face scrunches up, as he tries to understand what Antwan is saying.
“Look, yeah, the effect is really pretty, but it’s just pixels and programming, man, it’s not fucking real. You know, part of the fun of playing a video game is the suspension of reality, right? Like, I can punch someone in the face and not have it mean anything.” Antwan says, throwing his arms out, actually starting to feel a bit annoyed.
If Antwan’s being honest with himself, it was one of the things which bugged him about Millie Rusk’s ‘AI is real’ crusade- this idea that playing a videogame could have real life consequences. He, personally, thinks it’s a stupid concept- yeah, games should be immersive, fun and pretend, as far as he’s concerned. You make the wrong choices, you just save scum your way to success, overwriting all your failures with everything you’ve learnt.
You can’t do that in real life- you have to live with all your decisions. Why in the fuck would you want that level of reality in a video game?
“You really think none of this means anything?” Nigel asks. He actually looks a bit pissed off, colour rising on his stubbled cheeks.
Antwan lets out a theatrical sigh, forcing himself to calm down a little. It is, after all, a bit stupid to get angry at a video game character, even if they are both annoying and pretty hot.
“Listen, I appreciate the graphics- they’re stunning. Character design is brilliant, can’t fault it, even if you tend to get a bit bitchy. Story is, thus far, a bit hackneyed, but whatever, can’t see anyone giving a shit about that once this fully immersive experience gets on the market. It’s gonna make some people a shitton of money, I’m sure.”
He takes a step closer to Nigel and his impressive frown. “But ultimately, I’m gonna take my VR headset off at some point and get on with my actual life. So yeah- none of this means anything, Nige.”
Nigel actually bristles at the nickname. “Don’t call me that. I hate that.” He says, his tone unusually terse.
Antwan blinks. “Wow, OK, did I unlock some super special dialogue interactions?”
“I don’t know what you keep going on about, mate.” Nigel says, expertly executing the Kiwi talent of making the word ‘mate’ sound like ‘you cunt’. He begins to stalk off, walking deeper into the ruins.
“You normally get this annoyed at a player character, Nige?” Antwan asks as he jogs after Nigel.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nigel says, obviously striving to keep his tone level.
“I think you do, Nige.” Antwan says, using his snottiest voice, putting extra emphasis on the nickname.
Nigel grabs hold of Antwan’s shirt and shoves him against the nearest pillar. He keeps an excitingly firm hold on Antwan as he steps closer.
“Listen, mate, I don’t know what you keep going on about, and yeah, actually, you are getting on my tits a bit. But we’re stuck together, at least for now, and I swear to all the deities if you call me ‘Nige’ one more fucking time-” Nigel says, glaring at him, before dramatically losing steam.
“Then you’ll what?” Antwan prompts as he watches the fury drift out of Nigel’s eyes in real time. It’s bizarre, like someone has remotely reset Nigel’s emotions.
Antwan stares at him as Nigel lets go, looking confused and a little distressed.
“We- we have to find the Sceptre of Will.” Nigel says, stepping away, putting distance between them.
Antwan pushes himself off the pillar, feeling more than a little confused himself.
“So, you just default back to the basic NPC stuff every time you get a bit interesting?” Antwan calls as Nigel retreats, walking off in the direction of a clump of stones which may have once been an altar.
“I think it should be somewhere up ahead.” Nigel says, ignoring Antwan’s question.
Antwan has no choice but to follow Nigel, and his broad shoulders. He is walking towards what is obviously the resting place of the Sceptre of Will, seeing as it is glowing a little brighter than the rest of the temple ruins.
“So you’re just going to ignore me, then?” Antwan presses as he jogs a little to keep up with Nigel’s stride.
“Chance would be a fine thing.” Nigel mutters, just loud enough for Antwan to hear. Antwan finds himself grinning as they make it to the glowing altar.
“You know, I think I prefer bitchy Nigel.” Antwan says, running his hand over the top of the altar, the stone rough beneath his palm.
“Ah, here it is, the high altar! The Sceptre of Will is sure to be nearby!” Nigel exclaims, his voice suddenly solely enthusiastic, without a trace of his previous annoyance to be found.
“Aaaand we’re back to the NPC, huh?” Antwan says, turning to Nigel who is now smiling pleasantly. It is very frustrating.
“There must be some way to open this, the Sceptre of Will must be inside!” Nigel continues, heedless of Antwan’s sarcastic interjections.
“Oh, do you think so?” Antwan asks, “Do you think the glowy altar might be the place that the magical bit of crap is hidden?”
Nigel’s face remains fixed in the same blandly encouraging expression, not rising to the bait of Antwan’s rudeness. Antwan lets out another theatrical sigh and turns back to the altar, putting glitchy NPCs out of his mind for a moment. There is, of course, a quite easy to solve puzzle carved into the stone, which requires Antwan to press three inlaid bits of marble in sequence. It takes him less than a minute to get the right order, and when he does the altar lid splits in half, to reveal a fancy looking stick.
Antwan picks the stick up and waggles it at Nigel.
“Ta-dah!” He says.
“Excellent work!” Nigel says, clapping Antwan on the shoulder.
“I agree, that was excellent work.” says a voice from behind them.
Antwan and Nigel turn together to find half a dozen heavily armed men have entered the temple ruins, along with Albert Delingpole, looking slightly out of place in the middle of his gang of hired muscle. Delingpole is also armed, but with a deeply retro Smith and Wesson revolver rather than a machine gun.
“Ah fuck.” Antwan says, shoulders slumping. “Shoulda seen this coming.”
Delingpole smiles, and it looks like he’s not entirely familiar with the expression, given how awkwardly it sits on his bony face.
“I commend you on your skill, sir, but I would prefer it if you would hand the Sceptre over with a minimum of fuss.” Delingpole continues, his accent almost incomprehensibly posh.
“Finders keepers, fuckhead.” Antwan replies. Next to him he thinks he hears Nigel snort.
Delingpole’s eyes narrow and the smile drops off his face. “I really must insist.” He says, as he cocks his gun.
“Jesus H Christ, second time today, look mate, you can shoot me if you like, I can easily replay this bit and find the best outcome.” Antwan says.
Delingpole frowns and Nigel makes a strange noise in his throat.
“Seriously, mate, as I’ve been explaining to Nigel here, it doesn’t fucking matter if you put a hole in me ‘cos I’m not even here!” Antwan says, spreading his arms wide, “None of us are!”
Delingpole stares at him. “I will give you to the count of three to hand the sceptre over.”
Antwan cocks his eyebrow and folds his arms, keeping a firm grasp of the sceptre. “Nah.”
“I think you should do it, Antwan, it isn’t worth it!” Nigel says.
“One.” Delingpole starts his countdown, and levels his gun towards Antwan.
“Are you kidding? Not gonna give chinless wonder over there my special stick!” Antwan says with a grin.
“Two.” Delingpole continues.
“Antwan, I’m serious.” Nigel says, his voice more urgent.
“So am I! It’s my special stick!” Antwan says.
“Three.” Delingpole finishes his countdown and calmly shoots Antwan in the chest.
At first Antwan isn’t quite sure what has happened- has he suffered an electric shock from malfunctioning hardware? Has he walked into something in his gaming room which would cause this kind of pain?
“Shit.” Nigel says, as he steps forward, catching Antwan in his arms as Antwan’s knees buckle.
“What’s happening?” Antwan asks, as something warm trickles down his chest, under his shirt. He drops the sceptre, his hand no longer able to hold it.
“Shit, mate, I’m sorry.” Nigel says, guiding Antwan’s journey towards the stony ground carefully. “The first time is such an awful shock, there was no way to warn you, believe me.”
Antwan wants to ask what Nigel was going to warn him about, but his chest hurts too much, and breathing is almost impossible- something wet and awful is filling up his lungs. Nigel is yelling something which sounds a bit like ‘Take the fucking thing and go’, but he feels far away, despite the fact he’s definitely still holding Antwan tightly.
“I’ll be here when you get back.” Nigel says, and everything goes dark.
***
Antwan opens his eyes and is immediately disorientated. He’s no longer in the temple ruins, but is staring up at the metal roof of the Jeep. He’s lying on a blanket in the back, and isn’t uncomfortable, just rather confused. He sits up, surprised at the mild ache in his chest, making him wince. He reaches up to soothe the pain and discovers a small hole in his shirt, just over his heart.
“The game doesn’t reset.” Nigel says, startling Antwan out of his reverie.
“What?” Antwan asks, whipping his head round to Nigel, who is sitting in the driver’s seat, staring out of the windscreen.
Nigel sighs. “It doesn’t reset, not how you thought it would. Everything just continues if you get hurt, it doesn’t let you replay parts of the story. Delingpole took the sceptre, he wasn’t bothered with us after you died.”
Antwan lets out a low whistle. “Well, fuck, that’s an oversight on the part of the game devs, how’re you supposed to get good at Jumanji if they make it impossible to play it?”
Nigel lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about?” He turns in his seat and gives Antwan an incredulous look. “Antwan, you died.”
Antwan lets out a laugh of his own. “In a video game, Nigel, come on! I’m fine. Granted, it was hyper-fucking- realistic and I think when I’ve got my hands on this intellectual property I will certainly be toning the ‘dying homoerotically in the arms of the sexy Jungle Explorer’ bit down, but it’s not like I actually carked it.”
Nigel gives Antwan a solemn look. “Did you see the marks on your hand?”
Antwan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and?”
“Look at them.” Nigel says.
Antwan does and discovers that instead of three black marks, he now only has two.
“Oh, come on! That’s bullshit, I haven’t worked out how to get energy or anything in this game and it’s already taking a whole life off me? Un-fucking-fair!” Antwan exclaims.
“Antwan-” Nigel tries to interject, but Antwan is on a roll.
“And why does my chest still hurt? Surely if I ‘died’” he throws his hands up and wildly uses air quotes, “ everything should be replenished? No more owies?”
Nigel sighs again, audibly this time, looking down at his hands. “I don’t have all the answers for you.”
Antwan snorts. “And that’s another thing wrong with this game, you’re seriously borked, mate, what kind of NPC breaks the fourth wall and acknowledges that we’re in a game?”
Nigel is quiet for a moment and then he looks Antwan in the eye. “I don’t know.”
“Fucking brilliant.” Antwan scoffs.
“What I do know is that you need to guard those other two lives like- well like your life depends on it.” Nigel informs him.
“Oh yeah? And what happens if I don’t?” Antwan asks, expecting another none answer.
Nigel swallows. “I think you get stuck here, in the game.”
For the first time something a bit like panic starts to rise in Antwan’s sore chest.
“Why do you think that?” Antwan asks, dreading the answer.
Nigel meets his gaze again. “Because I think that’s what happened to me.”