Backstory

Wilmington, Florida • 1930's

never say what you really feel, keep your heart silent, don’t dispute. these were things he learned on his path to success. it’s just what you’re supposed to do. no one’s supporting him anyway, this stubborn upstart who’s absolutely convinced that he’s all that and a box of chocolates. he’s getting rejected again. and rejected again. no one’s ever gonna touch you ever again, kid. the people in charge don’t care. exploit everybody who helped you. put all your faith in swine. it’s just what you have to do on your path to success..

he’s found out that he doesn’t matter, and that’s freeing to everyone but him. he has nothing left to lose and everything to gain. he drops into the flow and puts on a show because everyone will watch him when he does. it’s now or never, again and again. made a fool of on stage again. he smiles anyway. learns to quip back. gets fired. does it again. makes enemies. gains fans. it’s not enough to break through. it’s not enough for him.

he declares war for the first time. someone has stolen his act. they couldn’t do it like he does, though, no one can. he’s full of taunts and thinly veiled rage, using his words as a weapon. that someone attacked him. that someone ended up with fifteen stab wounds in the abdomen. it was easier than he thought it would be, though his hands are shaking and his shoes are stained now, both could be cleaned off. and that someone will never do this again.

he just wants it all, you know? he’s awake but still dreaming. but he’s awake still, uncannily so. so when he sees the road ahead of him looping in the mist, when he stops the car and gets out, he knows that what he’s seeing defies logic and he doesn’t care.

he’s partnered up with the Entity of Liminality now, settling in the forgotten town in the high desert called Las Praderas. it’s an easy time setting roots since this part of the world is unclaimed, but as soon as he establishes a presence, other entities’ acolytes smell easy pickings and go to take this territory for themselves. it takes a while, but after fighting an uphill battle, he becomes king of the hill, ever expanding through the land and the airwaves, a fairly new concept to humanity and an entirely untapped one by the entities. he’s getting everything he wanted.

he sends out a signal now, a message through blood and static, that he’s not to be messed with. his name is Sonny Sparkles and the masses will be his. through his sheer will, he’s carved out a place for himself and his entity. as usual, his enemies are many, his allies are few. but he knows who he is and what he is capable of and will make everyone dance to his tune! who needs all the answers? Sonny has the world in the palm of his hand.

absolute power corrupts absolutely, and that’s even more true for someone given the ability to take more than just that absolute power. he’s never been satisfied and never will be. it warps him. that ambition is his driving force, even through the static and the madness. the voices in his head don’t matter when they get drowned out by the cheers of the audience. the blood on his hands mean nothing when they take their own lives by suggestion. he’s a monster and he loves it.

and so it went. and so it went. and so it went. time means nothing to the cool feeling of mist on your cheeks in early morning, a dark stairwell, walking down a slightly slanting hallway; liminal spaces do not care to track the seconds ticking. but then after being seen but not being Seen for that unknown expanse of time, one officer Saw him. it wasn’t an unusual happenstance to be caught, but usually with a bit of suggestion, they either forgot about the murders he committed in broad daylight or they simply weren’t a problem anymore. was it a whim that Sonny chose to play with that officer? was it fate?