The prompt is: Throughout all of time, almost every person who made a noteworthy change in the direction of history; Genghis Khan, Napoleon, George Washington, Winston Churchill, and many more, has actually been the same immortal wearing different faces. Now, the time has come for them to move again. It is time to buy Twitter.
It was a hot summer day. Al Wa’d wore a deep scowl on his face. Today had been especially long, filled with countless meetings and endless, tiresome speeches. He almost regretted his most recent purchase, the one responsible for such nuisances. But it was his irritation speaking, he knew. The service was a great investment that would undoubtedly become an irreplaceable asset.
With no little annoyance, Al Wa’d strode towards his car – the sun glaring at him from above, sucking out the moisture off his delicate skin. The door was held open, and soon, he was in the backseat, waving his driver to move. It would take thirty long minutes for him to reach his home. The roads were filled with feeble mortals in their tiny, unassuming vehicles. His lips twisted in disgust.
He drew his gaze onto the sky and heaved a sigh of annoyance. Oh, how he wished he could unfurl his wings and take command of the wind above. He had his runes on him; no creature nor lens could lay its eyes upon him. Only a handful of beings could sense his presence in this state, and it was unlikely any were present here.
Yet he could not – not at this moment. He was seen leaving, and he had to be seen arriving. The slightest of disappearances would cause speculation, an undesired outcome at this delicate of a stage. They were watching. They were always watching.
Time flowed slowly. Minutes felt like hours. The roads stretched further and further, away from the city and into the countryside. The grey concrete buildings and hideous advertisement boards were replaced with avid greenery and trimmed, uniform fields. The air was much lighter, cleaner, less of a burden on his sensitive nose. Al Wa’d took a deep satisfied breath. This was his home, his domain.
An array of runes circled the thirty-acre property, blinding prying clairvoyance and humans’ technologies alike. A modest villa occupied the center, covering a small portion of the land and extending further underneath.
As per usual, Fafnir greeted him inside. He stood just below his waist – his stocky figure oddly contradicting his height. Bowing his head, the house gnome spoke in a low whisper, “Greetings, my Master.”
Al Wa’d stepped inside. “Is the bath ready?” He asked.
“Yes, my Master,” his servant replied.
“Good,” he concluded. The itching was becoming unbearable. Al Wa’d tore off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Suits were a burden he loathed to bear. He had made it a habit for his current Suit not to be seen wearing one. He got to choose his own wardrobe – one of the many advantages of being a laidback billionaire. Unfortunately, today’s affairs had required one.
Releasing a longwinded sigh, he sunk into the bathtub. The water was cold. It rose and stirred, quickly settling back into stillness. A thin film began forming on the surface. Al Wa’d slowly swayed his hands underneath, rustling the gathering layer. A pink sheet of skin trailed behind, loosely hanging to his arms. It followed his motions until it separated, losing its colours, turning grey, and rising upwards. Little by little, the gunk grew thicker. Al Wa’d looked nothing like he had done before. His once pink skin was gone, the hairs, blemishes, and imperfections alongside it.
Instead, he flaunted a grand pattern of dark green scales covering every inch of his body from his spotless head to each of his five limbs. He grunted as he arched his back, manipulating his spine and relocating his conserved vertebra. The carefully-tailored bathtub withstood the intensity of the transformation while also providing enough space, for now, his two and a half meters elongated frame.
Despite his heavy breathing, Al Wa’d was grinning widely. Molting always felt exhilarating. And no molt could go to waste. Lowering his mouth into the water, he took large gulps, one after the other, until nothing remained. Finished, he stood, naked in his green glory. Fafnir was waiting at the door, bathrobe in hand. He’d escort him to another bathroom where he’d eat and drink and soak for hours, and only then would he attend to a matter that needed attending.
***
It was a fair bit after midnight. Al Wa’d did not require sleep, only rest, and he had plenty earlier in the baths. Normally at this time, he would be free to do whatever he wished. He would receive updates from his lesser brethren scattered around the globe: stories, gossip, intrigue, politics. It was what he enjoyed the most. It fueled his desire to be where he was: amongst humans.
Anatomically speaking, they were nothing special. Nor were they the only living beings capable of cognitive thought, far from it, in fact. What set them apart was a unique set of mutations in their brain. It allowed them to warp and twist their emotions. They crafted their own versions of reality. This, coupled with an extremely short lifespan, produced an infinite range of possibilities – some so chaotic that Al Wa’d himself had great difficulties trying to perceive them. Humans were the most interesting species he had yet to witness.
He had been there since the very beginning. He saw how everything came to be, and he’d be there to see how it’d all end. His solace in these vast spans of time was observing the world around him. The birthing of new lands, the flora it cultivated, and the creatures it harbored. Nothing in all these many years had been more fascinating to him than humans.
Their unpredictability brought on unexpected advances, yet it also hindered their progress considerably – a double-edged sword. He had to step in multiple times to ensure they did not drive themselves to extinction. Unfortunately, the other races were not fond of their… eccentricity as he was. Again, he had to intervene to put an end to any plots of extermination. He could not allow his main source of entertainment to be extinguished.
He worked over the years. The world came to recognize their usefulness. Some view them as nourishment, slaves, even hosts. Nonetheless, they were recognized.
“Yoohoo?” a voice interrupted his thoughts. “Earth to Elly? Are you there?”
Al Wa’d clenched his jaw. “Do not call me that.” He raised his head and was met the pale bald face of the insufferable Lich. He never liked the undead, but this one in particular always managed to get under his skin.
“Aww, come on,” the Lich pouted his lifeless blue lips in an expression that could only be described as grotesque. “No need to get angry.”
“Do not get on my nerves, Jeffery.” Al Wa’d crossed his arms.
“This is the first time we see each other in fifty years, yet you’re this cold.” The Lich sighed. He dropped his shoulders in feigned disappointment, and receiving no response, he pulled the furthermost of the four chairs and sat down.
The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, neither speaking a word. The round table still had two members missing. It was tradition to await everyone to gather. The semi-centennial gathering was mandatory, and those who refused or were unable to attend were deemed unworthy and were effectively erased by the others. Those were the only commandments of The Accord.
Al Wa’d checked his watch and glanced to his right.
“Liz will be late,” the Lich said. “Something about a storm passing over London.”
She knows, he thought to himself. Humming, he asked, “And the creep?”
“That’s awfully rude, Al.” The Lich frowned.
“He pleasures himself spying on humans in their private homes,” Al Wa’d stated.
“We all have our flaws, Al. Billie is a polite young man. He’s just– Oh, speak of the devil. He’s already here.”
The air flickered with purple light and tore open into a giant slit-shaped portal. A massive figure walked through the distorted space, its misshapen body consisting of a different amassment of eyeballs belonging to not a single creature. It dragged itself on the stone-tiled floor, leaving a trail of sludge behind it.
“gReEtinGs,” it spoke, each word in a different tone.
“Come, Billy. Have a seat,” the Lich chirped. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages? How have you been?”
“goOd,” it replied.
“You know,” the Lich spoke, “I just bought this new ser–”
Al Wa’d ignored the pair. Reaching under the table, he picked up a small metal cube that fit nicely into his scale-covered palm. A small silver crank was attached to one of its sides. He placed two fingers on the axle and turned it once, rotating it completely. It ticked.
“nO. I cAn’T,” the abomination said.
“Ah, come on,” the Lich pleaded. “Pretty please?”
He turned it again. It ticked.
“No. nO. I rEalLy caN’t.”
He turned it once more.
“Just this once, Billy. You know how much I want…”
It released a last and much louder tick. Wordlessly, Al Wa’d put the device on the table.
“What is that, Al?” The Lich asked.
“Just making sure we aren’t to be disturbed,” He replied. “Let’s see now..” He stood and flexed his arm and, in one quick motion, thrust it forward.
“I… wHy?” The abomination spoke its last words with a gaping hole through its ‘chest’.
“What the fuck, Al!?” The Lich yelled. “Why would you..?” His eyes darted from the corpse to the green blood dripping arm.
Al Wa’d tilted his head. A grin found its way onto his lips. “You know, Jeffy, I’ve waited for this moment for a long time. You were always so… infuriating.”
“This is suicide, Wa’d.” The Lich started forming a spell. “Why are you doing this?”
He shrugged. “You’re too powerful. You have both become too influential, and I do not like it.”
“Who do you think you are!?” The Lich activated his spell; strange purple symbols circled around his waist. “You will pay for this, Wa’d.” You’ll pay for this, he swore to himself. He’d leave, for now, gather his strength, and strike when the time was right. Yet, all his hopes disappeared as the spell around him dissipated.
Al Wa’d’s grin widened.
The Lich stumbled back. “You cannot harm a member of The Accord. Bill signed it. I saw him.”
Al Wa’d took a step forward, shaking his head in amusement.
Unnerved, the Lich raised his arm, aiming it at Al Wa’d heart. He mouthed a silent spell and a black fog was shot from his finger. It collided with its target yet could not penetrate his scales. Instantly, the Lich’s body started tingling, the intensity rising quickly. His skin felt like it was one fire. “How?” He glanced at his hands. “Why?”
“The Accord is not flawed.” Al Wa’d chuckled. “It simply cannot harm its creator.”
The Lich did not voice as much as a yelp. A pile of ashes remained where he once stood.
