06 | A Very Special Guest

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MISADVENTURES IN PARADISE
vi. A VERY SPECIAL GUEST

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   FIRST, THERE WAS DARKNESS

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   FIRST, THERE WAS DARKNESS. It swallowed the world, stubborn, relentless, domineering. She couldn't move nor speak, not unless it wanted her to. It took her thoughts and shoved them so far deep into her subconscious that they didn't exist. It stole her nightmares and hid them in the clouds among the heavens. For the first time in Riley's life, the darkness was soothing.

   Then gravity struck, and rain fell from the clouds. And with the rain came a new set of pain. Hopelessness. Loneliness. Grief.

   She tried to scream, but the pain drowned her. And the darkness, the very darkness that once stole her nightmares, didn't bother trying to remove these newfound feelings of pain. Because this pain didn't belong to her. This pain belonged to someone else — Wanda Maximoff.

   That was the magical part about Westview. It took your pain away and subjected you to a normal life, one filled with color, joy, and prosperity. No longer was Riley haunted by the agony and despair her true life gave her. She could have a simple life in a town she could never leave. But this life came at a price. As it erased Riley's pain, Wanda's pain was forced onto her and all the other citizens of Westview.

   Of course, no one acted like it — probably because they couldn't.

   The pain they felt in their original lives wasn't all that was stolen. Their identities were taken. They were given new names and roles in the strange town of Westview, characters in a sitcom that was never supposed to exist. Riley was no longer Riley Stark, the Valiant Valor. She was—

   "VIOLET, I SWEAR TO GOD, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

   Deep in the heart of Westview, a girl sat on a bench in the park. Her legs were propped up as she flipped through a magazine with one hand and held a cigarette in the other. Dryly, Violet greeted, "Hello, Jameson."

   In another life, the boy furiously marching toward her was known as Roman. Here in Westview, however, he went by James.

   "Don't you hello me, you two-timing cheater!" he shouted.

   "Well, how else would you like me to greet you? Spanish? French? Russian? Portuguese? Take your pick," Violet lazily offered. James glared daggers into her head before tearing the magazine from her grasp. "Wha—Hey! Alright, alright, you have my attention! What do you want?"

   He rolled up the magazine and whacked her with it. "I want you to rot, you backstabber!"

   "Will you just tell me what's got your panties all twisted so I can go back to reading?" she groaned.

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