Just so everyone is aware, and apparently this blog is still getting hits so...wow, I'm moving to my other blog rfon572 so if you could all just migrate, that'd be fantastic.
Gotten most of my hits on Surrender Please. I'll be honest- it's going to remain unfinished...for a long, long time. It's actually the last in a trilogy too, which explains why there's so little backstory so sorry about that.
Anywho, hiya.
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Friday, May 13, 2011
Welcome back
This isn't really a blog. This is an exercise. My English 121 paper has instructed that blogs are things that should be studied and on the off-chance anyone checks I'm going to have this one up and running.
Although to be fair, I like blogs. Blogging about blogs. How very meta of me.
Although to be fair, I like blogs. Blogging about blogs. How very meta of me.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Well this got oddly serious...
They say the devil’s in the details
But you haven’t replied to my emails
Or answered my texts
Just give me a sign that you are alive
I think I’m going to cry
Oh look a txt message from you
“I’m seeing someone else; we’re through”
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
I guess you have other guys to fellate
I don’t know why I can’t move on
And drop this yearning
You accentuate it’s getting late
And even though I am a pain
You’ll have to unplug your phone
‘cause I won’t stop calling
Even though they say opposites attract
You’ve shut off all contact
I hope you burn in hell
Look at you, acting as though nothing’s gone wrong
But I know what you’re really like, bitch
A cock lodged in the back of your throat for good luck
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
However, I guess, at any rate
I’ve probably stopped really caring
About you at all
You do create this sense of hate
And even though you were my flame
I do proclaim
That I’ll be the one to decapitate you
Even though it’s a bright and sunny day outside
All I want to do is stay indoors and feel like I’ve died
Even though I’ve invested a lot of me in this
I get it was hit-and-miss
I’ll see you round I guess
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I wasn’t betrayed
I see now things just weren’t working
You reiterate we can still be mates
And even though the dog is dead
I guess we can still keep it
And we’ll be bee-eff-effs
And we’ll be bee-eff-effs
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I’ve been set up on a blind date
With someone else, with someone random
I still speculate you’re not even straight
And even though at the mere mention of your name
And even though I’ve got a grip
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I’ve been set up on a blind date
With someone else, with someone random
I still speculate you’re not even straight
And even though there’s no more pain
There is a little bit
There is a little bit
But you haven’t replied to my emails
Or answered my texts
Just give me a sign that you are alive
I think I’m going to cry
Oh look a txt message from you
“I’m seeing someone else; we’re through”
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
I guess you have other guys to fellate
I don’t know why I can’t move on
And drop this yearning
You accentuate it’s getting late
And even though I am a pain
You’ll have to unplug your phone
‘cause I won’t stop calling
Even though they say opposites attract
You’ve shut off all contact
I hope you burn in hell
Look at you, acting as though nothing’s gone wrong
But I know what you’re really like, bitch
A cock lodged in the back of your throat for good luck
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
However, I guess, at any rate
I’ve probably stopped really caring
About you at all
You do create this sense of hate
And even though you were my flame
I do proclaim
That I’ll be the one to decapitate you
Even though it’s a bright and sunny day outside
All I want to do is stay indoors and feel like I’ve died
Even though I’ve invested a lot of me in this
I get it was hit-and-miss
I’ll see you round I guess
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I wasn’t betrayed
I see now things just weren’t working
You reiterate we can still be mates
And even though the dog is dead
I guess we can still keep it
And we’ll be bee-eff-effs
And we’ll be bee-eff-effs
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I’ve been set up on a blind date
With someone else, with someone random
I still speculate you’re not even straight
And even though at the mere mention of your name
And even though I’ve got a grip
This isn’t great, this isn’t fate
But I’ve been set up on a blind date
With someone else, with someone random
I still speculate you’re not even straight
And even though there’s no more pain
There is a little bit
There is a little bit
Monday, September 27, 2010
Surrender Please
I have not posted in a while. Mainly because blogging's not something I'm in the habit of anymore. I can't even- you know what, as filler, here's the first 8,000 words of a new story. Science-fiction. Obviously:
PROLOGUE
SATURDAY 07:37 PM
“What’s the Universe like?”
“Like Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Only louder”
Almost everything was unchanged. Just as he’d remembered it.
Standing at the bow of the SS Fermion, Cosmo Smith felt the sea breeze prickle at his skin, the tails of his coat rustling in the wind. Celia, his new blonde assistant, called to him from the other end of the Galleon, having to yell over the wind.
“We’ll be in dock in about an hour” Celia judged by the distance to the horizon. Tugging on a coil of ropes, she watched Cosmo look solemn at the approaching city. Still, she had not been there when It had happened. Exactly what It was, he would not say and the two had shared multiple adventures without the shared knowledge of It but naturally she was curious.
“Celia” Cosmo jumped down to stand next to her, “when you first met me, what were your initial impressions?”
“Getting sentimental?” Celia smiled, “Careful there Uncle Cos’, you don’t know what you’ll find there”
“That’s why I’m asking”
“I don’t know” Celia shrugged, "A little strange, a little mad, a little too tall, then again, you did rescue me from certain death with a bung parachute and some duct tape"
“I did, didn't I?" Cosmo spent no time being modest, "but what did your gut tell you about me?”
“That you were completely and utterly mad and that I was going to love every moment with you, something along those lines?”
“Perfect”
“And every day since has been like nothing I could have expected, going places I've never heard of" Celia beamed at her partner, "which reminds me, are we ever going to give his ship back?”
“You know, I don't think so" Cosmo admitted, "it's alright, they won't miss it, they'll buy another”
“And so we head to Selledrome, why Selledrome?" Celia dared to ask, fearful of what Cosmo might say, but his reply was as cordial as ever, "because Emortia doesn't have a port”
“Right, because that's all this is”
“It's the dark side of the spoon”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means" Cosmo explained, "that dark things are afoot. Celia, do you remember what I've told you about the Ruffians, the truth about the Storm, and... It?”
“Not really”
“Then listen up" Cosmo cleared his voice, "It goes something like this...”
In the beginning there were the Ruffians. Each Ruffian was different, a hero in their own right. The Ruffians soon divided over differences and soon began fighting. They split into two sections, the Rapscallions and the Ragamuffins.
But every time they fought, they damaged reality around them. So the Scallywags were brought into being, in an attempt to stop both teams. By extermination. And thus it began, the Systematic Termination Of Ruffian Movement, the S.T.O.R.M. had started. Alice Tyler was the first innocent bystander to make the ultimate sacrifice.
So the Rapscallions and the Ragamuffins made an alliance. to fight against a common enemy. But the Ragamuffins were distrustful of their allies and the two became locked in arsenal espionage. The last of which included a clone of the Rapscallion's leader-
“Tyson Byrnes?” Celia postulated.
“That's right” Cosmo nodded, showing a J-shaped scar on his left arm, “he is a clone of me”
And led into battle with this Abomination, the Scallywags were decimated but liquidated before any Ruffian might catch them. They left the Abomination with the most dangerous weapon- the truth. Confused and crazed, the Abomination began to destroy everything to find any kind of meaning for himself. He escaped into the sea of unknowns, becoming an outcast so no one can ever again use him.
And where he was, he left void. And the Chaos thrived in the void, uninhabitable to all Reason. And in the Winter of Discontent, many fell away.
“So why are we here?” Celia looked up at the bare sky, night was falling.
“Selledrome City is the Franz Ferdinand of the war” Cosmo whipped off his trench coat, “it has... unique properties that attract villains that I'm not going to go into”
“So what's your plan?”
“I have to destroy Selledrome City” Cosmo said after much deliberation, “it's the only way”
“Well we're going to evacuate people right? We're going to get people out first, right Cos’?” Celia saw Cosmo undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, silently lost in thoughts.
“Find Tobias Southern” Cosmo said and jumped into the cool blue water, swimming for the shore.
CHAPTER ONE: RECOGNITION
SUNDAY 08:42 AM
“Well Lieutenant Morr, DI Carlyle” a toothy man in Wild West get-up and twelve other thuggish henchmen looked at the two they had finally caught with the briefcase of gold bars, “it seems we have you cornered”
“Technically, not cornered” the girl with the auburn hair said, “OK, edge of the Grand Canyon with a forty-storey drop, sunny skies and you’ve all got swords, pistols and rocks sure, but not cornered”
“Cornered? God no” her partner chimed in.
“Return the gold and we'll let you live long enough that you know what's happening” the toothy cowboy growled, “give me the gold!”
“Robert, I think we've outlived this charade” the girl grinned, wrapping her arms around the tall, brown-haired man with the heavy trench coat and Panama hat, “shall we?”
“Why Marissa, it would be my honour” the boy said and they stood poised on the edge for a moment, waiting for the wind to pick up.
“Are you planning on flying out of your situation?” the toothy cowboy laughed.
“Precisely” the man said and the two jumped off of the cliff.
From the antagonist's view, it momentarily seemed as if they were mad, watching the two. But the two had other plans, madness would have to wait.
Robert pulled on the buttons on his coat, unstitching the lining from his coat and revealing a very large parachute folded inside. The gust caught and inflated the material, allowing the Honourable Robert Marx and Dame Marissa Birmingham to soar across the dusty landscape. The gold weighed them down a hefty amount but the two had expected this and made their parachute larger accordingly. A bit of a bumpy landing unto the crevice, Marissa unlocked herself from her transport and the two laughed mercilessly.
Robert turned around to see the toothy cowboy stand dumbfounded at the top of the cliff. From their position, he looked as big as an ant. To unburden himself, Robert quickly emptied the pockets of the parachute-coat and then shed his favourite coat, as much as he loved it there are sacrifices for even the most noble of pilgrims. Giving the toothy man a bit of a wave, the two began trudging through the dusty landscape, their attire not built for hot weather.
“For a minute there, I actually thought you were going to drop me” Marissa admitted as Robert searched for room to place his spoon, soup ladle, half a dozen knick knacks and a paperback copy of Great Expectations for his coat-less attire.
“I thought about it, yeah”
“Where's the next town?”
“Steady on Dame” Robert stretched his arms at a now lighter travelling suit, “I want to see the gift shop”
"There's a gift shop in the Grand Canyon?" Marissa put on her incredulous voice, "what do they sell? Rocks?"
"Over there" Robert pointed over to something in the distance, tall and dusty, "The Desert View Watchtower"
The two chatted over their previous adventures, finding a two mile walk in the hot sun a good time to reflect over the deserted ship in Ireland, the confrontation in the Mizingo cafe, the haunting at the hotel, Funereal Ave, the library and the mysterious figures in the trench coats following them. Although Marissa was responsible for roughly half the conversation, she spoke and, like any good lady, multi-tasked. Something in the back of her gray matter whistled, signalling the importance of something she had consciously forgotten.
Arriving at the seventy-foot tower, the two collapsed on plastic chairs laid out for customers. A Colorado bench boy wearing a Stetson, grey suit and Bolo tie, walked towards them, twenty years of age, just younger than them.
"Lister" the boy introduced himself, "Thomas Lister, I know I have a funny name"
"Thomas Lister, quite honestly, you have one of the most normal names we've come across in this world and we've been around the world twice over" Robert said truthfully, "Lieutenant Baxter Morr, this is my partner DI Reinette Carlyle"
As per the signal, the two whipped out two IDs from passport holders with their faces and a bit of squiggles around it. People see what they want to see.
"Lieutenant did you say?" Lister shook his head, "Lieutenant of the police force or the army?"
"Police force of course, pardon the rhyme"
"Well it's just that Lieutenants are American and DIs are British" Lister spotted the inconsistency to which even Robert or Marissa hadn't, "so what's the dealio with that?"
"Transcontinental Diplomacy" Marissa said, not quite knowing what she was saying but having a feeling it made some sort of solution to the context, "it's all about the public relations isn't it?"
"Ah yes" Lister agreed, "and what would two law enforcers be gracing this landmark with? With a briefcase?"
"Oh yes" Robert handed him the briefcase, "could you send that to Saint Pixar's Home For The- you know what, just send it to Pixie's House in Seattle, the mailmen will know what you mean if you send it posthaste, don't open it"
"OK" Lister understood the last four syllables and unlike a normal human, he obeyed them, "of course, anything for the police"
"Just charge the mail to the Denver police force" Marissa smiled, "they owe me a favour"
"Anything else?"
"Have you got the Internet?" Marissa asked, deadpan, "Please, it's an emergency"
"My laptop" Lister pointed to an Apple, how he got a computer all the way in the desert was unknown but Marissa momentarily lost the nit-picking, enjoy"
As soon as Lister had left, Marissa had hopped upon the computer with Robert over her shoulder.
"What's up Dame?"
"Checking my email" Marissa admitted, her answer a little deflating, "fifty-four new messages"
"Anything not spam?"
"One" Marissa noted, "Sent this morning by Southern42@gmail.com"
"Do you think it's Tobias?"
“I'd be lying if I said it didn't” Robert clicked open the email, reading aloud the text written.
“Dear Robert and Marissa. How are you? Haven't heard from you in years, hope you're still alive. Any news on whatever it is you left? I am well, thank you.
Marissa, although we have tried to reach you many times, now is urgent. Your Debutante Ball is arriving which both you and your sister are meant to attend as part of family tradition. Your failure to do so will make Courtney ineligible for attendance. Uncle Tob’”
"Something was bothering me" Marissa closed her eyes, "I knew this was coming up, why didn't I remember?"
"Hold on, you can't go to a Debutante ball" Robert stroked the whiskers from a beard, "to do that you'd need to be an aristocrat"
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm four hundredth and twenty third in line for the throne" Marissa said defensively, "but my Uncle Pierre died when I was seven, leaving no heirs and so for all intents and purposes my father would inherit all of that jazz Uncle had"
"Was your Uncle part of some royal bloodline I don't know about?"
"You don't have to be a direct aristocrat to become a Debutante; you can just be extremely wealthy"
"And your Uncle Pierre was wealthy?"
"When he died, he was the most successful man in... OK, if it ran on electricity, Birmingham Enterprises had a hand in designing it; his bank book was a football field of noughts with a one at the beginning"
"Then how did we meet? You attended the local Comprehensive"
"When Uncle Pierre died, and I found this out later" Marissa explained, "he owed a lot of people some form of money. My father was left with a ping pong table full of noughts with a one at the beginning with everything else in the fortune liquidated but it got wrangled in legal troubles"
"What legal troubles?"
"My father was suspected of killing Uncle Pierre"
"He didn't, did he?"
"What? No!" Marissa screeched, "What’s the matter with you? But as a suspect he couldn't legally inherit any money and so it was divided and skipped a generation"
"So between you and your three siblings you each get a quarter of the ping pong table..." Robert finished, "that is interesting"
"Only when we came of age, to ensure our father, as a murder suspect, couldn't get the money, only when we were of age would we receive our money. Charlie invested his in a car company-"
"Which one?"
"Not a day goes by you don't see it" Marissa smiled, "and Gemma was declared mentally unfit to inherit such an amount"
"You can't seriously do that!"
"I can't, Charlie did" Marissa laughed, always hating Gemma, four hundredth and twenty second in line, "but I've probably got my sum coming up"
"You can't seriously be thinking of taking it" Robert tried to talk what he thought was sense into Marissa, "we've been on the run for the past few years, if we go back home, half your money will go into explaining how we jumped from country to country and half the time not even with passports"
"It's not the money, it's the family, I'm kind of tired of the nomad life" Marissa admitted, she had thought about it for months, "I'm really tired"
Even as blind as he could be, Robert saw something in Marissa's eyes which he often missed.
"Let's go home"
CHAPTER TWO: RECONCILIATION
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Deep underground Selledrome City Tobias Southern stood in his private lab, clad in an oily lab coat and shame of working for the enemy. Performing work for the Official Physics Agency, a front for the Ragamuffin's weapons development, was a heavy weight on Southern's conscience but he was mortal and suffered mortal weaknesses, temptation being the crux of his disloyalty. Money, the purchase of his soul to the Devil.
"Doctor Southern" a husky voice hollered to him from across the room, a rather short, balding man in a sharp suit waddled over to Southern. Doctor Maphea or as his persona towards his nemesises had garnered him, Igloo, patted Southern on the shoulder as Southern fiddled with all manner of wire, gadgets and robotic scraps.
"How are we doing?"
"Well, the modifications are complete but the simulation doesn't show any promising research" Southern said mechanically to the boss he loathed, "Einstein says-"
"Einstein was wrong" Igloo tried to assure him, "with any luck this new toy will be ready in a matter of days"
"Days? You misunderstood me" Southern stuttered in his mind, "Sir, what we are trying to accomplish-"
"Is not only possible, you will do it" Igloo steely glared at Southern, "many lives hang in the balance of you developing the specifications we require"
"Sir, I can't work like this, I haven't been to the surface for weeks" Southern pleaded, realizing he was more prisoner than employee but Igloo nodded and waved his hand around the massive underground cathedral to science and chuckled.
"Why go to the surface Toby?" Igloo asked, "we have everything, company, food, a television"
"How about sunlight?"
"Work on your Time Machine"
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Emortia was built not for any aesthetic reason but because it was simply a very convenient place to do businesses. Over the years, the mob had moved in and had overlaid their own plans into the great city but it was still a convenient place to do business. It was like Chicago without the baseball.
Midday was the time for Charlie Fairgray to be taking his sleep. As a PI, sleep is not the easiest thing to come by. Fairgray spent more hours on stake-outs than he did sleeping so any chance of sleep was appreciated. His apartment locked, his curtains drawn, his phone off the hook, some sleep would be good to come by.
Fairgray rubbed his eyes, took off his coat and jacket and lay length-ways on the couch, adjusting himself for a good two hours of sleep. Then the knocking began.
Someone at the door wished to see Fairgray.
They knocked once.
They knocked twice.
They knocked a third time.
Using his khaki trench coat as a dressing gown, Fairgray lumbered over to the door. He looked like a mess, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven, his hands blackened with ash from various cigars.
The door swung open and Fairgray was face to face with someone not much younger than himself, dressed almost eerily in the same coat and a sharp blue pinstripe suit and trilby. His fair brown hair was curly and his hands enclosed in black leather gloves.
"Do I know you?" Fairgray rubbed his scratchy chin, "or is this a religious thing?"
"221B Aldrin Street? You're a private detective?"
"Charlie Fairgray; I'm in a book" the PI introduced himself, "Your name?"
"I caught a flight from Hong Kong to see you" the stranger walked into Fairgray's apartment, not waiting for an invitation, "I need your help"
"Can this wait?"
"Not really" the stranger took a stack of legal sheets, full of handwritten notes, "I found these in my hotel room yesterday"
"Well I have a look at them when I get a chance" Charlie unsuccessfully tried to usher out the stranger, "Goodbye Mister...?"
"Brown, Conner Brown" the stranger propped his hat, "and I'll pay you handsomely"
"I'm going to sleep now" Fairgray attempted to sway the now immobile Conner Brown, "come on, don't be stupid"
"I want answers"
"Generally the job of a private investigator yes, now get out please Mister Brown"
"There's a circle in red ink on the first page, read it"
"... Cosmo Marvolo Smith has long since fled Jekyll, was sighted in Glasgow, now seems to be moving to Selledrome" Fairgray read, "yes Selledrome, it's a very nice place, but I'm not going to go based on the whim of some man I met two minutes ago, all my jobs are the locals"
"This is incredibly important to me, I need to talk to Cosmo Smith" Conner insisted, "it's vital"
"Then tell him that and stop bothering me" Fairgray shouted as loudly as he could without waking neighbours, "I am busy"
"Busy enough to investigate the destruction of Selledrome" Conner baited and hooked Fairgray, the mystery, the adventure, the adrenaline would be too much to resist, it was the drug Charlie Fairgray was addicted to, "I booked two flights to Selledrome. They leave in three hours"
"You'd better make that three flights, I never go anywhere without my sidekick"
"Meet me at the airport" Conner left two tickets on the table and walked out, not even thinking to shake Fairgray's hand which was busy anyway, dialing his phone to make contact with his Watson.
"Sally? Pack your bags, we're going to Selledrome"
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Owen Nightingale was not terribly impressive and sitting in the church in a mourning suit two sizes too big for him seemed to add to this underwhelming image.
It was a closed-casket ceremony. Partly because Bruce had explicitly stated that he wanted his funeral to be closed casket but also because being caught in an explosion is not a terribly good way to keep your components together. Still, Bruce had not been a terribly religious person and so the state of his corpse didn't quite worry him. He couldn't take it with him. Not where he was heading.
His wake wasn't much of a fuss, just three friends, two odd names, and a single bar girl who had recently moved into a new establishment in the central part of Jekyll, the Cocktail Altar.
"To Bruce.... something" raising the toast was Leviathan, the eccentric with a drunken knack, "may he... something"
"Agreed" as if to juxtapose Leviathan, Exodus sat beside him, shaven, combed and in a sharp three-piece suit, "he died saving us from something terrible"
"He may have been the greatest man I ever knew" Owen sat glassy-eyed with a pint in front of him, "A Bruce-full world is far happier than a Bruce-less one"
"Maybe it's just me, but I like to think that he's out there somewhere" Leviathan postulated, "that beyond this life there's something more mysterious"
"Wow, you're more hammered than I ever gave you credit for" Exodus rubbed an eyelash or a tear, "Brandy, more for the gentlemen here, we're in mourning"
"No it's the afternoon sirs" Brandy winked and obliged with his request, "I always had a thing for Bruce"
"I'm betting you don't now"
"Funnily enough no" Brandy joined the three sad men, helping herself to Owen's untouched whisky. The three did not look exactly like mourners are supposed to look, Leviathan was giddy with alcohol, Exodus was now checking his phone messages and Owen was at least putting in a little effort to look forlorn.
"Oh good, a message" Exodus held up his electronic gizmo, "probably another of the million who want to pass their condolences through the SMS"
"It's tomorrow's world" Leviathan raised his glass, proclaiming something at least semi-philosophical, "and we're the children of yesterday"
"Go to Selledrome ASAP" Exodus recited, "that's interesting"
"What?" Owen snapped from his daze, "something interesting?"
"I apparently sent that SMS message to myself"
"Well" Leviathan finished his pitcher, "there's nothing for it Watson, the game's afoot. We must investigate"
"Oh, do we have to?" Brandy said in her high tone, "we're just getting started liqouring up in Bruce's memory and there's good chance I may sleep with one of you"
"Selledrome eh?" Owen noted, "I should go see Alice, cousin of a cousin or something like that"
"Off we go" Leviathan staggered to the door, "to Selledrome, don't spare the horses"
And then he collapsed.
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Daylight didn't suit Cosmo, nor did it suit anyone he would be associated with. His idea of his family would be all those 'who you wouldn't to dinner' and in all fairness, it worked out well. But he was still unsuited to sunlight.
Wandering around his home town felt funny because of the extensive travelling had changed his perspective. Plus, he was instructed very precisely that Selledrome would have to go. It was a festering site for villains to hide and reproduce and amputation was the necessary action. Cosmo didn't follow orders unless he thought they were right. He had also been given free reign about how he would euthanize an entire city.
Still, it was his home and one likes to see their favourites spots one last time before having to eradicate it from existence from orders from superiors he wasn't quite sure existed. There was the Museum, the Ascania Theatre, and of course, Selledrome High School. Cosmo was careful to avoid seeing anyone from the education site; the harbouring hatred could be done without. The more of Selledrome he saw, the more Cosmo regretted receiving the instructions he had been handed.
"But Hestia, the Storm is here-"
"Which is precisely why you must destroy Selledrome Cosmo. You and I both know that while it stands, it will be the rotten apple that ruins the bag. We're in a War Godfather, and there is precious little we can do to openly strike against the enemy. destroying Selledrome is the best course of action"
"Best course of action for who?"
"Cosmo, do you want to win this War?"
"Of course I do, I'd die for the Rapscallions"
"Well then why can't those in Selledrome die for the Rapscallions?"
"You know what I mean"
"Cosmo, I will assign someone to wipe Selledrome from the face of the earth. I just thought it'd be a nice touch if I offered you the chance to clean up your mess"
"Tell me where to meet the plane"
Kicking a can along the footpath, Cosmo considered ways to end the suffering of the city which he had grown in, fed, and clothed. This was the watering hole for the madness.
CHAPTER THREE: REVALIDATION
MONDAY: 11:30 AM
Trapped in Arizona, the proud state in the US of A, two nomadic Byronisque figures might find themselves in not a terribly comfortable position.
Slapping fake passports across their palms, Robert and Marissa sat in the café across the street from the airport. Ordering two lattes, they sat silently in their chairs for a full fifteen minutes before swapping battle tactics.
“OK, we pose as flight inspectors who are performing a routine check up on healthy and safety standards” Robert suggested, “that might work”
“Or we could smuggle ourselves in as flight attendants?” Marissa played around with the coffee she wasn’t going to drink, “these are really weak ideas”
“That’s the trouble when you’ve traveled for as long as we have” Robert lamented, “ingenuity requires constant genius and that sounds like a lot of work”
“We’ve just squeezed the juice from the lemon and now we’re left with just a lemon with no juice”
“That was either really clever or really sarcastic”
“Come on, we’ve still got the pizzazz in us” Marissa tried to make herself vibrant, in an upright posture and a painful smile, “if we can’t think of a new way to get back to Selledrome then we don’t deserve to go home”
Robert flagged down a passing waitress and ordered another coffee. Coffee had always been good to Robert and he saw no reason to give up on it at his time of need.
“What does the book say?” Robert asked, “anything interesting?”
Marissa gingerly took a worn note book from her coat with the words SPA 4237 across its spine and ran her hand across the paper.
“Well” she began, leafing through the pages, “lately, I’ve noticed a lot of warning notes, jotted into the margins”
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“Very neat, very slanted, very symmetrical” she reported, “not exactly much to go on”
“What exactly are these warnings?”
“Harbingers of doom Mein Herr” Marissa smiled at Robert viciously, “all in reference to the great Wipe Out of the classical era”
“Wipe Out?”
“It’s one of the few entries into the diary part” Marissa found the bus ticket she had used to mark the spot, “she’s talking of a time when there were people bent on exterminating the common man and leave the select few to rule the utopia, in a letter from Rusty he refers to an eponymous Selledrome Strip”
“Part of the Ragamuffins?”
“Who knows? I do love history but there is only so much fiction a girl can take” Marissa closed the book, “but the little notes are spooky”
“Spooky? Are you beginning to lose your nut Dame Birmingham?”
“Hardly but listen to this… ‘…when the time of judgment occurs, when those lost will reunite, our hero will fail but the RAM will save us”
“RAM? Random Access Memory?”
“Robert And Marissa perhaps”
“Red Asthmatic Mesopotamian for all we know” Robert wiped the foam mustache from his whiskers with a paper napkin, “but what are we going to do about a flight?”
“Perhaps we tell the truth about our identities, if it’s a trip home we’re after” Marissa began folding her napkin corner to corner, “or is that too obvious?”
“I’d quite like to get back undetected” Robert noted, “have we any idea of what we’re going to do once we get back?”
“I would quite like to see what we’ve missed, we’ve been away for too long” Marissa said airily, “a lot of things might have changed, houses have been knocked down, shops have been built, perhaps they’ve abolished illegal U-turns”
“For a pessimist, you’re really optimistic”
“That’s ridiculous”
“I just do what you lobe”
“Hey, damn my programming” Marissa had reopened the book and began picking at the back page, “the last page has been glued down, there’s a compartment between the last page and the back cover”
“Almighty Zarquon, we traveled for as long as we did and didn’t notice that?”
“We were busy”
“Hello” Marissa greeted three black plastic cards and the note that fell out of the hidden space, “what’s your name?”
“‘For use in emergencies RAM, love, Cos’” Robert read the note, “what does that mean?”
“Three cards” Marissa turned each card over, about the size of an ID card, “for three people?”
“Cosmo, Vxyzin and Rusty?” listed Robert, “it fits”
“RAM…”
“He can’t have been referring to Robert And Marissa because he had no idea that Robert And Marissa were going to take his book, Cosmo didn’t plan any of this” quashed Robert, remembering back to the last time he had seen Cosmo.
It had been an inglorious battle outside of a museum, a fight of truly gladiatorial proportions. As villains were arrested, good men were returned home, Robert and Marissa beamed as they watched Cosmo Smith, the hero of the day, and his companion Roland, discuss a matter over two motorcycles.
Robert put his hands to his sides, feeling a square lump inside his pockets. He took out this lump to find the SPA 4237 book sitting innocently inside his pocket.
“Wait, Cosmo!” Robert realized but it was too late, he was drowned out by the noise the motorcycles made as Cosmo and Roland rode off into the sunset, leaving the book in Robert’s possession.
“See it did happen? That last paragraph shows it’s an accident!” Robert said aloud, to which Marissa wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Did what happen in what?” Marissa said in a hushed voice, anxious that her sidekick was losing his marbles, not an uncommon occurrence amongst travelers.
“Oh, just a little thing I have going with the reader”
“What?”
“Never mind, forget it”
“I’ll try” and Marissa brought the cup of cold coffee to her lips, hovering the liquid just underneath her mouth.
“Well, shall we use these?” Robert turned one of the black cards over in his hands, “why not?”
“Well, what are we going to use them with?” Marissa had spotted the non-descript nature of the discoveries, “that ATM machine over there?”
“Why not?” Robert trotted over to the Barclays ATM and slid the plastic into the card slot.
“One moment…” the screen lit up and during that moment, Robert thought of what the future might hold for such a man such as himself. If Marissa was to become a debutante, could the two remain friends? If they could, would they still travel? And if they couldn’t, would Robert travel without his other half? How is one supposed to walk without two legs? Robert needed Marissa’s support and Marissa needed Robert’s support, that was the way it had always been, the ineffable combo to which nothing could break. Their friendship unshakeable, Robert knew one thing in his heart, that whatever the two would face, they’d face it together. There was nothing which could surprise him now.
“Welcome Robert Amadeus Marx” the machine read which surprised Robert for two reasons. The first was he had missed completely that his initials were RAM and also that the machine knew it was dealing with the Honourable Robert Marx.
“Please present these tickets to the airport customs” the machine spat out three airline tickets, “have a nice day”
And as if to truly cement this astonishment, the ATM exploded.
“Good morning sir” the customs officer grinned behind the counter, “and where are you flying today?”
Unsure of what to say, Robert simply slid two of the three airline tickets under the window. A quick consultation on the computer, and the customs officer nodded and handed them two pieces of orange cardboard.
“Er… lovely day today?” the customs officer tried to make a little conversation as the two in front of him, “I mean, unless you’re a terrorist and you two aren’t terrorists are you?”
“Well, we don’t intentionally make the planes crash if that’s what you’re asking” Marissa nonchalantly said, “but either there is a God out to get us or we are really unlucky”
“The RAM 4237 flight from Arizona to Selledrome with a two hour layover in Jekyll, have a nice day” the customs officer smiled and tipped his hat to the two before servicing a Japanese tourist and his family.
Robert and Marissa wandered through the duty-free section of the airport, buying up books, CDs and a gadget that Robert had no idea what it did but had fallen in love with the thing immensely. After the somewhat odd shopping spree, they settled into an Ethiopian restaurant for privacy rather than nutrition. After discussing their flight plans, the two began talking about the tarot credit cards.
“How did the card know who we were?” Marissa asked in a hushed voice, “or that it was you and not me who was at the ATM?”
“Screw that mystery, why did it explode?”
“Did the ATM have a security point?” a throaty voice asked, “it’s a fish eye built into the casing, at about your eye level?”
“Yes, it did”
“Well then its possible” a man in a white shirt, black tie and solid overcoat shifted into their booth, “though extremely immoral, to have a live feed to another computer somewhere”
“Who would have that kind of access?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say, no real way of tracing it” the man was scarfing down a croissant, “excuse my manners, I missed breakfast, my sister told me to go to Selledrome right away”
“Oh, same here almost”
“Yes, Vxzyin’s a… well, she’s a vixen sometimes”
“How do you spell your sister’s name?”
“V-X-Y-Z-I-N, I’m Reginald, Reginald Allengard Mizingo”
“RAM? Blimey, it’s turning up more than 4237” Robert said.
“Do you know Vxyzin?” Reginald said in a panicked voice, “is she in some sort of trouble?”
“No, why?”
“She sent me a letter posthaste” Reginald held up some paper, “said that Cosmo was distraught and left her, heading to Selledrome with something important and would I meet her there?”
Marissa needed to check, “You know Cosmo? Cosmo Smith?”
“Cosmo Prince” Reginald corrected, “Although now that I think about it, I only have his word for it but that’s generally enough so there you are”
“Did you know him well?”
“Had him over for a few dinner parties” recalled Reginald, “very nice man, very polite, knows his cutlery to the spoon”, he nodded to the spoon tucked into the top button hole of Robert’s waistcoat, “nice Edward IIX by the way, very rare, very Oscar Wilde”
“Thank you, I thought it masculine”
‘I am not having this conversation’ Marissa thought as she poked a ripe olive around her drink with a toothpick, focusing on the carbon bubbles.
“Cosmo’s coming back to Selledrome” Robert summarized, “isn’t it such a coincidence that your Debutante Ball is happening at the same time?”
“I don’t think it was an accident”
“Then what do you think?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got a flight to catch”
CHAPTER FOUR: RETRIBUTION
MONDAY 01:42 PM
Cosmo looked for inspiration around the city he loved, a way to bring it to its ultimate suicide. The city had bred a monster and now that monster would have to silence it forever. He had often been there to save the city so pretty, so energetic, but if it was to grow, so would the evil rooted there. And he, Cosmo, the champion, had planted the seeds.
How could he do the unthinkable? The anti-matter machine to create an explosion? To use a proton field to melt the matter within the expansive hamlet? To use a Snare Equalizer to vaporize all states of matter into superfluid?
One thing had been put aside, Tobias Southern needed to be weeded out. He was not going to get away with his return to the dark side. Cosmo needed to be sure of where things stood in the world and Tobias Southern was a good place to start.
..
MONDAY 01:45 PM
Celia put herself into an open posture, an inviting posture for Southern. He couldn’t be frightened off, not at the crux of the storm.
Southern collapsed himself on the park bench and handed Celia a brown bag.
“A biopsy of the machine we’re working on” Southern introduced, “Cosmo should be able to work out what it is with that”
“Now I just need to find him” Celia didn’t peek into the bag, she wouldn’t understand anyway, “did you contact someone who might stop Cosmo?”
“I did” Southern said with a hint of pride, “are you certain he wants to destroy Selledrome City?”
“He’s got to; he got orders from a mysterious superior”
“Cosmo never takes orders”
“I know but he’s intent on destroying Selledrome and the villains inside, they are the ones he has been battling for so long”
“This is serious, I’ve read Cosmo’s file, he could accomplish this in his sleep”
“How did you get out?” Celia realized, “won’t they notice you’re missing at the OPA?”
“Let me worry about that” Southern insisted, “I need you to find Cosmo Smith and tell him not to destroy the city”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll see if there’s some standard protocol for a city-wide evacuation”
“But if Cosmo truly wants to destroy Selledrome, isn’t it the population he wants as well?”
“Cosmo has not told you the whole story so I won’t either” Southern said, ashamed, “but believe me, there’s seems to be something on the OPA radars”
“What is it?”
“Something very large, something very dangerous, the flagship of the Grim Reaper”
“What are you going to do about it?”
..
MONDAY 01:45 PM
Over the Atlantic Ocean the Official Physics Agency had stationed a fleet of illegal aircrafts, mainly science vehicles for calculating acceleration of atomic bombs. Arranged in a V shape, they were flying on formation in a likely attempt at confrontation for the gigantic shadow on the radar.
Given twenty-four hours notice, Doctor Maphea had hopped on a Mach 24 plane and stood in the control room of the Ferdinand, the largest aircraft to be built by a private sector. Armed with all ranges of weapons, Maphea felt confident that at least he would live if the Shadow approached the fleet. Looking out of the window of the plane, Maphea saw the cool blue ocean on the exterior, no land for miles, truly a sight worthy for some calendar.
“Stewart” Maphea turned to his assistant, “send me a link to the fleet intercom”
“Very good sir”
“OPA fleet” Maphea spoke into the intercom microphone, “we are about to encounter the mysterious shadow. Do not deviate from the planned assault, we must surround this shadow and if I deem it useful, prepare to board from the starboard side. Hijacking this-”
“OPA” a voice crackled over the intercom, “please pay attention, this is a message from Admiral Byrnes, head of the Scallywags”
Maphea sat up and adjusted his necktie as the monitor connected began to broadcast a live feed to a man in an orange suit and tie, red trench coat, and scarlet panama hat. His face was gaunt and pale, his dirty black hair parted to one side.
“Tyson Byrnes…” Maphea’s eyes became wide as he recognized the face.
“My name is Tyson Byrnes, aren’t you happy to see me Dad?” Tyson referenced his creation, “I’m head of the Scallywags now although I do hope to change the name, quite frankly, I’m embarrassed to say it”
“What do you want?” Maphea was prepared to comply with any demand the feared Tyson Byrnes might give, “I’ll give you anything you want”
“Yes you will” Tyson nodded, “because you created me, without my permission. You stole Cosmo’s essence to create me and now my essence will destroy you”
“Sir!” Stewart rushed over to his boss, “look out of the windshield”
“Yes” Tyson grinned, “I think you’d better”
Maphea tilted the visor and gaped his mouth in awe. A massive war craft, unlike anything Maphea had ever seen. Totally red in colour, it was shaped quite like a beetle except that it’s size was vast enough to allow Boeing 747s to land upon it.
“Do you like my new transport?” Tyson grinned, showing several cracked teeth, “I designed it myself”
“Byrnes” Maphea drew himself to full height which didn’t faze Tyson at all, “if you attempt to engage us in battle, we will be forced to fire upon your ship”
“You would fight the SS Styx?” Tyson giggled, “it would be a suicide run”
“What do you want?” Maphea drew upon his humility, hoping it would appeal to Tyson, “I’ll be happy-”
“Only to see you dead” Tyson smiled, “you and Cosmo and every Ruffian left on Earth. First mate, destroy two vessels on the port side”
Maphea could see a torpedo fly past his own ship and explode upon two large ships, both known for their extreme hyperdense material, supposedly unbreakable. Each ship began to crumble and fall into the ocean.
“I hope the OPA cleans up their mess” Tyson roared with pride, “I wouldn’t want to be thought of as a litterbug”
“Tyson, I’m begging you to reconsider” Maphea said, secretly sending the ‘retreat’ command through the ship’s network.
“Ah” Tyson looked at his computer, “you appear to be commanding a retreat. Wise, but futile. First mate, destroy three ships on the starboard side”
Another three torpedoes were fired with extreme accuracy, killing a total of one hundred and eighteen men.
“Now” Tyson folded his arms, “I may not destroy you if you tell me the location of one Cosmo Smith”
“I don’t know” Maphea said, the fear bringing out the truth, “I have no idea”
“They say that you have been tracking him for some time now” Tyson growled, “to perfect a clone of him”
“He’s disappeared” declared Maphea, “I have no idea where he’s gone”
“Wrong answer”
“I’m sorry” Maphea accepted his fate.
“I’m not” Tyson beamed and began laying coordinates for the next missile.
“We surrender” Maphea screamed, “We surrender! We surrender!”
“Oh, do you now?” Tyson pondered, “well this changes everything” and with that he switched off the intercom.
From Tyson’s captain chair, he saw the forty men he’d selected to run the gargantuan ship.
“Destroy all OPA ships; that is a direct order” Tyson smiled.
Between the OPA fleet and the SS Styx there was enough nuclear firepower to take down a small continent. The OPA ships began firing and being whittled away, one by one.
Maphea sat at his post, realizing his own vessel was being spared until last so he could see what he had caused.
“What have I done?” Maphea whispered before a nuclear bomb was hurtled towards the Ferdinand.
CHAPTER FIVE: RECOMBINATION
MONDAY 01:55 PM
Tobias Southern put down the headset, he couldn’t bear to hear his colleagues die at the hands of the insane Tyson Byrnes. He couldn’t help but watch the radar though and one by one, each shape of the OPA fleet disappeared.
..
MONDAY 01:55 PM
Incredibly, Marissa, Robert and Reginald did not need to jump out of the plane mid-flight. It had landed perfectly in Jekyll airport where the layover began.
“We could go look at the bookstores” Robert suggested and then Marissa chimed in, “or the arcade”
“Actually, I have things to do here” Reginald smiled, “so I’ll need to depart for a while”
“Well, looks like we’re splitting up”
And they did.
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Marissa was a gal born to be in the arcade. Her initials MJB were more recurrent in pinball high scores than the legendary AAA and she had won the MAME awards three years in a row. Her claw-machine skills undeterred, she had just won a brown teddy bear.
“A bear, nice” a voice called to her. Marissa turned to see a character in a white coat and long hair wave at her, “how are you today?”
“Well, better when I didn’t know you” Marissa shot back.
“You don’t even know me” stubbornly said her competitor, “I’m Leviathan”
“Seriously?” Marissa couldn’t comprehend anyone naming their child after a sea monster, “Leviathan, interesting name”
“I’m a Jekyll boy” he said, “heading to Selledrome, where might you be going you radiant goddess?”
“Does that line actually work?”
“Sometimes”
“Well, Selledrome actually”
“Me too” Leviathan nodded, “full truth of it actually, Exodus got a strange text message summoning him there”
“Exodus?”
“Well, he probably has a real name” Leviathan smiled, “ah, here’s Owen”
Still in his funeral suit, Owen shook Marissa’s hand and stood solemnly next to his friend.
“So, what kind of strange text message?”
“Well, it goes something like this…”
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Scanning the shelves for books that might interest him, Robert found something in the corner of his eye that might interest him. A very cute girl with long brown hair and a purple top.
“Ah, Great Expectations” Robert said over the girl’s shoulder, “quite good, bit boring in the middle”
“Right, go away”
“Ah come on” Robert followed the girl, “at least let me introduce myself-”
“Don’t hold your breath”
“I’m the Honourable Robert Marx” Robert said, feeling crestfallen as the girl walked over to a man in a leather jacket and beige trench coat.
“Hello Robert Marx” the man said, “or should I say Tony Eason?”
“What?” Robert was confused and his posture showed it, “have we met?”
“Not exactly” the man said, “but you helped me in Emortia when I was held up in an elevator”
“Who are you?”
“Charlie Fairgray; Does Heaven Have A Phone Number?” introduced the man, “private detective”
“Sally Jackson” the girl said, if Charlie felt it was safe, so did she.
“Well if you’re a PI then who are you working for?” Robert attempted to make conversation, “anyone I know?”
“Yes” a familiar voice said behind Robert, “feel like getting an apple-bacon-cheese sandwich?”
“Conner!” Robert exclaimed, hugging his friend, “haven’t seen you since the Mizingo Café!”
“I know” Conner said, tilting his head slightly to look at Robert, “I was there”
“Well what are you doing back? Did you find the rapscallion hub? Did you find Cosmo?”
“Inside information tells me he’ll be in Selledrome” Conner divulged, “I’ve hired a private investigator to help me find him”
“What do you want from Cosmo?”
“Truth about why Sally died”
“What?” Charlie’s Sally became interested.
“Sally Jackson” Conner clarified but Sally knew it was a near miss from her own name.
Robert cleared his throat, “it’s funny you mention it because I believe that someone’s summoning us all here”
“All who?”
“Anyone who’s met Cosmo, first Reginald, us, you, who else?”
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
The recently renamed Eremina Tower stood proudly in Selledrome as the lighthouse of progress for the city. Katherine Eeremina had fought hard to steal the tower from it’s owners and now it was wrenched in her hands she wouldn’t let go.
Eremina was not a particularly repugnant woman but her steely manner prevented anyone to attempt personal connections with her. She dressed in a black business suit, kept her long dark hair in a bun and constantly kept her brow furrowed. As she sat at her desk with her feet up, holding the phone casually, she knew her assistant was too terrified to approach her.
“Chao Smythe” Eremina pleasantly greeted her comrade over the phone, “how are you today?”
“Where are the convicts” Chao asked sweetly, “because I know you have them?”
“Where are you calling from?”
“St. Reuben’s Asylum, apparently, there was a mass breakout” Chao informed her, “did you orchestrate it?”
“Orchestrate a breakout?” Eremina put on her faux surprise, “I would never even consider thinking about how to speculate over a breakout for the criminally insane, they are both a danger to themselves and to the general public”
“Did Tyson?”
There was an awkward pause.
“Yes”
“It didn’t happen then” Chao instructed, “shred every document, delete all emails, if you’ve made a phone call to Tyson, purchase the company, no one must know of the plan”
“To keep hostages for an absurd amount of money does seem like an awfully cheesy idea” Eremina admitted, “but as long as I get my cut, I will do whatever it is that you need”
“Of course” Chao petted Eeremina’s hubris, “now I have things to attend to, I’ll talk to you later”
Eremina hung up, glad to have met Chao Smythe.
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Reginald stood beside the limosouine as Vxyzin exited.
“How are you brother?”
“Ah, Vxyzin, I have been…” Reginald struggled for the right word, “investigating”
“Investigating what?”
“Investigating Ruffians, and the Scallywags”
“Why? Both are derelict”
“Not as much as you might think” Reginald grimaced, “because I think that someone is gathering us up all in one place”
“Selledrome?”
“Correct”
“But for what purpose?”
“I don’t know” Reginald admitted, “but I have a feeling”
“A feeling? Is that all?”
“I need you to meet two of my new friends”
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Chao hung up the pay phone, unable to contain her laughter. Eremina hadn’t even traced the call, something Chao always did. She also believed in the faux plan Tyson had fabricated, fed to her with a silver Edwardian spoon.
Chao stuck her hands in coat pockets and began to walk away when-
The phone rang once.
The phone rang twice.
The phone range a third time.
“Rumplestiltskin” Chao answered.
“It’s Tyson” the growl said over the tone, “Maphea is dead, I killed him, and now I need you to organize a few things. Got a pen?”
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Cosmo stood inside the house that once held Tobias Southern before his move to the OPA bunker. It was such a suburban setting that Cosmo couldn’t quite believe that a man of such evil brilliance could live in such a boring household. By himself.
Still, there was a lot of technical junk in the house, Cosmo felt that some of it must be useful. For his next trick, he’d make the city of Selledrome disappear.
“I’ve got work to do” he said to himself aloud as he spotted a picture of Southern’s dead fiancé, the beautiful Eva Solomon. Bitch.
“Admiring a picture of me?” said the chilly voice behind Cosmo.
Cosmo froze and then replied cautiously, “you’re dead”
“That’s what Conner Brown said too but we’re good like that”
Cosmo turned his body around to see a rather shapely girl wearing a spindly black dress, her long hair tied in two braids.
“Even death isn’t permanent anymore”
“No, it isn’t, is it Cosmo?”
CHAPTER SIX: REEVALUATION
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Cosmo stared at Eva Solomon, cautious but curious. He had experienced hallucinatory states and virtual reality before but this was neither. He was facing a dead woman.
“How…” Cosmo began slowly, making Eva smile, “how did you survive?”
“You mean ‘How did I survive you and Southern murdering me?’ Cosmo?” Eva grinned but rather than answer him, she headed down the flight of stairs that led to the basement, beckoning Cosmo to follow. Groaning, Cosmo entered the lion’s den.
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Tyson looked over the Ferdinand lovingly, watching the crew scurry around, the pilots, the maintenance, the civilians, it was in essence a floating continent. Most of the crew were the escaped convicts from St. Reuben’s Asylum but he had selected some from referrals. Tyson stuck his hands in coat pockets as he watched his motley consortium work like pieces of an engine, all in synch.
“Byrnes” reported a man in a blue peacoat and untidy hair who was known as ‘Grail’, “we have reports coming in from our field intelligence”
“Grail” Tyson smiled, “if they were intelligent, I would not have sent them into the field”
“Very good sir” Grail was not really a weedy person but he did show respect to the man who broke him out of solitary confinement, “now Drayvale and Evangelos have seen the soldiers of Cosmo’s army grow every closer to Selledrome, just like you expected”
“Of course they would” Tyson grinned, leaning against the handrail, “they are so predictable, so easy to manipulate, their hunger for answers brings them back to Cosmo”
..
MONDAY 02:30 PM
Southern kept his head down as he filed the paperwork, writing off expenses, deliberately wasting the OPA funding. He had no idea what damage they might do with a Time machine and he had another thought occur to him. Tyson was heading to finish off Cosmo, which would lead him to Selledrome. The bloodlust in Tyson would surely lead him to the OPA and then what would the deranged Tyson Apollo Byrnes do with a Time Machine?
There was nothing for it- no help could be done, stinging from the inside. He would have to dismantle his Time Machine and resign. Take Robert and Marissa to the safe house on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, reunite them with their families he had plucked so discreetly from their own lives.
Bustling down into the cooler sub-levels of the headquarters, Southern felt the screwdrivers, power drills and sticks of dynamite in his coat. Entering the code into the electronic door he entered, only to be greeted by seven armed security guards and Chao Smythe.
“Hello”
“Can I help you?”
“What are you doing with my Time Machine?” Southern asked, drawing himself to full height.
Chao’s grinned increased, “I think the real question is ‘what are you doing with my time machine?’” and with that she snapped her fingers, “search him”
It took the guards less than two minutes to find Southern’s dynamite. Smiling sheepishly, Southern sent a silent prayer to anything that might get him out.
“Destroying my latest weapon Doctor Southern?”
“Well…” Southern hoped the airiness of the reply would buy him a few more minutes, “let’s just say I don’t know a lot about what’s going on but I know enough”
“If you’re praying, I’d make that prayer posthaste” Chao rubbed her hands.
PROLOGUE
SATURDAY 07:37 PM
“What’s the Universe like?”
“Like Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Only louder”
Almost everything was unchanged. Just as he’d remembered it.
Standing at the bow of the SS Fermion, Cosmo Smith felt the sea breeze prickle at his skin, the tails of his coat rustling in the wind. Celia, his new blonde assistant, called to him from the other end of the Galleon, having to yell over the wind.
“We’ll be in dock in about an hour” Celia judged by the distance to the horizon. Tugging on a coil of ropes, she watched Cosmo look solemn at the approaching city. Still, she had not been there when It had happened. Exactly what It was, he would not say and the two had shared multiple adventures without the shared knowledge of It but naturally she was curious.
“Celia” Cosmo jumped down to stand next to her, “when you first met me, what were your initial impressions?”
“Getting sentimental?” Celia smiled, “Careful there Uncle Cos’, you don’t know what you’ll find there”
“That’s why I’m asking”
“I don’t know” Celia shrugged, "A little strange, a little mad, a little too tall, then again, you did rescue me from certain death with a bung parachute and some duct tape"
“I did, didn't I?" Cosmo spent no time being modest, "but what did your gut tell you about me?”
“That you were completely and utterly mad and that I was going to love every moment with you, something along those lines?”
“Perfect”
“And every day since has been like nothing I could have expected, going places I've never heard of" Celia beamed at her partner, "which reminds me, are we ever going to give his ship back?”
“You know, I don't think so" Cosmo admitted, "it's alright, they won't miss it, they'll buy another”
“And so we head to Selledrome, why Selledrome?" Celia dared to ask, fearful of what Cosmo might say, but his reply was as cordial as ever, "because Emortia doesn't have a port”
“Right, because that's all this is”
“It's the dark side of the spoon”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means" Cosmo explained, "that dark things are afoot. Celia, do you remember what I've told you about the Ruffians, the truth about the Storm, and... It?”
“Not really”
“Then listen up" Cosmo cleared his voice, "It goes something like this...”
In the beginning there were the Ruffians. Each Ruffian was different, a hero in their own right. The Ruffians soon divided over differences and soon began fighting. They split into two sections, the Rapscallions and the Ragamuffins.
But every time they fought, they damaged reality around them. So the Scallywags were brought into being, in an attempt to stop both teams. By extermination. And thus it began, the Systematic Termination Of Ruffian Movement, the S.T.O.R.M. had started. Alice Tyler was the first innocent bystander to make the ultimate sacrifice.
So the Rapscallions and the Ragamuffins made an alliance. to fight against a common enemy. But the Ragamuffins were distrustful of their allies and the two became locked in arsenal espionage. The last of which included a clone of the Rapscallion's leader-
“Tyson Byrnes?” Celia postulated.
“That's right” Cosmo nodded, showing a J-shaped scar on his left arm, “he is a clone of me”
And led into battle with this Abomination, the Scallywags were decimated but liquidated before any Ruffian might catch them. They left the Abomination with the most dangerous weapon- the truth. Confused and crazed, the Abomination began to destroy everything to find any kind of meaning for himself. He escaped into the sea of unknowns, becoming an outcast so no one can ever again use him.
And where he was, he left void. And the Chaos thrived in the void, uninhabitable to all Reason. And in the Winter of Discontent, many fell away.
“So why are we here?” Celia looked up at the bare sky, night was falling.
“Selledrome City is the Franz Ferdinand of the war” Cosmo whipped off his trench coat, “it has... unique properties that attract villains that I'm not going to go into”
“So what's your plan?”
“I have to destroy Selledrome City” Cosmo said after much deliberation, “it's the only way”
“Well we're going to evacuate people right? We're going to get people out first, right Cos’?” Celia saw Cosmo undoing the buttons of his waistcoat, silently lost in thoughts.
“Find Tobias Southern” Cosmo said and jumped into the cool blue water, swimming for the shore.
CHAPTER ONE: RECOGNITION
SUNDAY 08:42 AM
“Well Lieutenant Morr, DI Carlyle” a toothy man in Wild West get-up and twelve other thuggish henchmen looked at the two they had finally caught with the briefcase of gold bars, “it seems we have you cornered”
“Technically, not cornered” the girl with the auburn hair said, “OK, edge of the Grand Canyon with a forty-storey drop, sunny skies and you’ve all got swords, pistols and rocks sure, but not cornered”
“Cornered? God no” her partner chimed in.
“Return the gold and we'll let you live long enough that you know what's happening” the toothy cowboy growled, “give me the gold!”
“Robert, I think we've outlived this charade” the girl grinned, wrapping her arms around the tall, brown-haired man with the heavy trench coat and Panama hat, “shall we?”
“Why Marissa, it would be my honour” the boy said and they stood poised on the edge for a moment, waiting for the wind to pick up.
“Are you planning on flying out of your situation?” the toothy cowboy laughed.
“Precisely” the man said and the two jumped off of the cliff.
From the antagonist's view, it momentarily seemed as if they were mad, watching the two. But the two had other plans, madness would have to wait.
Robert pulled on the buttons on his coat, unstitching the lining from his coat and revealing a very large parachute folded inside. The gust caught and inflated the material, allowing the Honourable Robert Marx and Dame Marissa Birmingham to soar across the dusty landscape. The gold weighed them down a hefty amount but the two had expected this and made their parachute larger accordingly. A bit of a bumpy landing unto the crevice, Marissa unlocked herself from her transport and the two laughed mercilessly.
Robert turned around to see the toothy cowboy stand dumbfounded at the top of the cliff. From their position, he looked as big as an ant. To unburden himself, Robert quickly emptied the pockets of the parachute-coat and then shed his favourite coat, as much as he loved it there are sacrifices for even the most noble of pilgrims. Giving the toothy man a bit of a wave, the two began trudging through the dusty landscape, their attire not built for hot weather.
“For a minute there, I actually thought you were going to drop me” Marissa admitted as Robert searched for room to place his spoon, soup ladle, half a dozen knick knacks and a paperback copy of Great Expectations for his coat-less attire.
“I thought about it, yeah”
“Where's the next town?”
“Steady on Dame” Robert stretched his arms at a now lighter travelling suit, “I want to see the gift shop”
"There's a gift shop in the Grand Canyon?" Marissa put on her incredulous voice, "what do they sell? Rocks?"
"Over there" Robert pointed over to something in the distance, tall and dusty, "The Desert View Watchtower"
The two chatted over their previous adventures, finding a two mile walk in the hot sun a good time to reflect over the deserted ship in Ireland, the confrontation in the Mizingo cafe, the haunting at the hotel, Funereal Ave, the library and the mysterious figures in the trench coats following them. Although Marissa was responsible for roughly half the conversation, she spoke and, like any good lady, multi-tasked. Something in the back of her gray matter whistled, signalling the importance of something she had consciously forgotten.
Arriving at the seventy-foot tower, the two collapsed on plastic chairs laid out for customers. A Colorado bench boy wearing a Stetson, grey suit and Bolo tie, walked towards them, twenty years of age, just younger than them.
"Lister" the boy introduced himself, "Thomas Lister, I know I have a funny name"
"Thomas Lister, quite honestly, you have one of the most normal names we've come across in this world and we've been around the world twice over" Robert said truthfully, "Lieutenant Baxter Morr, this is my partner DI Reinette Carlyle"
As per the signal, the two whipped out two IDs from passport holders with their faces and a bit of squiggles around it. People see what they want to see.
"Lieutenant did you say?" Lister shook his head, "Lieutenant of the police force or the army?"
"Police force of course, pardon the rhyme"
"Well it's just that Lieutenants are American and DIs are British" Lister spotted the inconsistency to which even Robert or Marissa hadn't, "so what's the dealio with that?"
"Transcontinental Diplomacy" Marissa said, not quite knowing what she was saying but having a feeling it made some sort of solution to the context, "it's all about the public relations isn't it?"
"Ah yes" Lister agreed, "and what would two law enforcers be gracing this landmark with? With a briefcase?"
"Oh yes" Robert handed him the briefcase, "could you send that to Saint Pixar's Home For The- you know what, just send it to Pixie's House in Seattle, the mailmen will know what you mean if you send it posthaste, don't open it"
"OK" Lister understood the last four syllables and unlike a normal human, he obeyed them, "of course, anything for the police"
"Just charge the mail to the Denver police force" Marissa smiled, "they owe me a favour"
"Anything else?"
"Have you got the Internet?" Marissa asked, deadpan, "Please, it's an emergency"
"My laptop" Lister pointed to an Apple, how he got a computer all the way in the desert was unknown but Marissa momentarily lost the nit-picking, enjoy"
As soon as Lister had left, Marissa had hopped upon the computer with Robert over her shoulder.
"What's up Dame?"
"Checking my email" Marissa admitted, her answer a little deflating, "fifty-four new messages"
"Anything not spam?"
"One" Marissa noted, "Sent this morning by Southern42@gmail.com"
"Do you think it's Tobias?"
“I'd be lying if I said it didn't” Robert clicked open the email, reading aloud the text written.
“Dear Robert and Marissa. How are you? Haven't heard from you in years, hope you're still alive. Any news on whatever it is you left? I am well, thank you.
Marissa, although we have tried to reach you many times, now is urgent. Your Debutante Ball is arriving which both you and your sister are meant to attend as part of family tradition. Your failure to do so will make Courtney ineligible for attendance. Uncle Tob’”
"Something was bothering me" Marissa closed her eyes, "I knew this was coming up, why didn't I remember?"
"Hold on, you can't go to a Debutante ball" Robert stroked the whiskers from a beard, "to do that you'd need to be an aristocrat"
"Hey, I'll have you know I'm four hundredth and twenty third in line for the throne" Marissa said defensively, "but my Uncle Pierre died when I was seven, leaving no heirs and so for all intents and purposes my father would inherit all of that jazz Uncle had"
"Was your Uncle part of some royal bloodline I don't know about?"
"You don't have to be a direct aristocrat to become a Debutante; you can just be extremely wealthy"
"And your Uncle Pierre was wealthy?"
"When he died, he was the most successful man in... OK, if it ran on electricity, Birmingham Enterprises had a hand in designing it; his bank book was a football field of noughts with a one at the beginning"
"Then how did we meet? You attended the local Comprehensive"
"When Uncle Pierre died, and I found this out later" Marissa explained, "he owed a lot of people some form of money. My father was left with a ping pong table full of noughts with a one at the beginning with everything else in the fortune liquidated but it got wrangled in legal troubles"
"What legal troubles?"
"My father was suspected of killing Uncle Pierre"
"He didn't, did he?"
"What? No!" Marissa screeched, "What’s the matter with you? But as a suspect he couldn't legally inherit any money and so it was divided and skipped a generation"
"So between you and your three siblings you each get a quarter of the ping pong table..." Robert finished, "that is interesting"
"Only when we came of age, to ensure our father, as a murder suspect, couldn't get the money, only when we were of age would we receive our money. Charlie invested his in a car company-"
"Which one?"
"Not a day goes by you don't see it" Marissa smiled, "and Gemma was declared mentally unfit to inherit such an amount"
"You can't seriously do that!"
"I can't, Charlie did" Marissa laughed, always hating Gemma, four hundredth and twenty second in line, "but I've probably got my sum coming up"
"You can't seriously be thinking of taking it" Robert tried to talk what he thought was sense into Marissa, "we've been on the run for the past few years, if we go back home, half your money will go into explaining how we jumped from country to country and half the time not even with passports"
"It's not the money, it's the family, I'm kind of tired of the nomad life" Marissa admitted, she had thought about it for months, "I'm really tired"
Even as blind as he could be, Robert saw something in Marissa's eyes which he often missed.
"Let's go home"
CHAPTER TWO: RECONCILIATION
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Deep underground Selledrome City Tobias Southern stood in his private lab, clad in an oily lab coat and shame of working for the enemy. Performing work for the Official Physics Agency, a front for the Ragamuffin's weapons development, was a heavy weight on Southern's conscience but he was mortal and suffered mortal weaknesses, temptation being the crux of his disloyalty. Money, the purchase of his soul to the Devil.
"Doctor Southern" a husky voice hollered to him from across the room, a rather short, balding man in a sharp suit waddled over to Southern. Doctor Maphea or as his persona towards his nemesises had garnered him, Igloo, patted Southern on the shoulder as Southern fiddled with all manner of wire, gadgets and robotic scraps.
"How are we doing?"
"Well, the modifications are complete but the simulation doesn't show any promising research" Southern said mechanically to the boss he loathed, "Einstein says-"
"Einstein was wrong" Igloo tried to assure him, "with any luck this new toy will be ready in a matter of days"
"Days? You misunderstood me" Southern stuttered in his mind, "Sir, what we are trying to accomplish-"
"Is not only possible, you will do it" Igloo steely glared at Southern, "many lives hang in the balance of you developing the specifications we require"
"Sir, I can't work like this, I haven't been to the surface for weeks" Southern pleaded, realizing he was more prisoner than employee but Igloo nodded and waved his hand around the massive underground cathedral to science and chuckled.
"Why go to the surface Toby?" Igloo asked, "we have everything, company, food, a television"
"How about sunlight?"
"Work on your Time Machine"
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Emortia was built not for any aesthetic reason but because it was simply a very convenient place to do businesses. Over the years, the mob had moved in and had overlaid their own plans into the great city but it was still a convenient place to do business. It was like Chicago without the baseball.
Midday was the time for Charlie Fairgray to be taking his sleep. As a PI, sleep is not the easiest thing to come by. Fairgray spent more hours on stake-outs than he did sleeping so any chance of sleep was appreciated. His apartment locked, his curtains drawn, his phone off the hook, some sleep would be good to come by.
Fairgray rubbed his eyes, took off his coat and jacket and lay length-ways on the couch, adjusting himself for a good two hours of sleep. Then the knocking began.
Someone at the door wished to see Fairgray.
They knocked once.
They knocked twice.
They knocked a third time.
Using his khaki trench coat as a dressing gown, Fairgray lumbered over to the door. He looked like a mess, his hair uncombed, his face unshaven, his hands blackened with ash from various cigars.
The door swung open and Fairgray was face to face with someone not much younger than himself, dressed almost eerily in the same coat and a sharp blue pinstripe suit and trilby. His fair brown hair was curly and his hands enclosed in black leather gloves.
"Do I know you?" Fairgray rubbed his scratchy chin, "or is this a religious thing?"
"221B Aldrin Street? You're a private detective?"
"Charlie Fairgray; I'm in a book" the PI introduced himself, "Your name?"
"I caught a flight from Hong Kong to see you" the stranger walked into Fairgray's apartment, not waiting for an invitation, "I need your help"
"Can this wait?"
"Not really" the stranger took a stack of legal sheets, full of handwritten notes, "I found these in my hotel room yesterday"
"Well I have a look at them when I get a chance" Charlie unsuccessfully tried to usher out the stranger, "Goodbye Mister...?"
"Brown, Conner Brown" the stranger propped his hat, "and I'll pay you handsomely"
"I'm going to sleep now" Fairgray attempted to sway the now immobile Conner Brown, "come on, don't be stupid"
"I want answers"
"Generally the job of a private investigator yes, now get out please Mister Brown"
"There's a circle in red ink on the first page, read it"
"... Cosmo Marvolo Smith has long since fled Jekyll, was sighted in Glasgow, now seems to be moving to Selledrome" Fairgray read, "yes Selledrome, it's a very nice place, but I'm not going to go based on the whim of some man I met two minutes ago, all my jobs are the locals"
"This is incredibly important to me, I need to talk to Cosmo Smith" Conner insisted, "it's vital"
"Then tell him that and stop bothering me" Fairgray shouted as loudly as he could without waking neighbours, "I am busy"
"Busy enough to investigate the destruction of Selledrome" Conner baited and hooked Fairgray, the mystery, the adventure, the adrenaline would be too much to resist, it was the drug Charlie Fairgray was addicted to, "I booked two flights to Selledrome. They leave in three hours"
"You'd better make that three flights, I never go anywhere without my sidekick"
"Meet me at the airport" Conner left two tickets on the table and walked out, not even thinking to shake Fairgray's hand which was busy anyway, dialing his phone to make contact with his Watson.
"Sally? Pack your bags, we're going to Selledrome"
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Owen Nightingale was not terribly impressive and sitting in the church in a mourning suit two sizes too big for him seemed to add to this underwhelming image.
It was a closed-casket ceremony. Partly because Bruce had explicitly stated that he wanted his funeral to be closed casket but also because being caught in an explosion is not a terribly good way to keep your components together. Still, Bruce had not been a terribly religious person and so the state of his corpse didn't quite worry him. He couldn't take it with him. Not where he was heading.
His wake wasn't much of a fuss, just three friends, two odd names, and a single bar girl who had recently moved into a new establishment in the central part of Jekyll, the Cocktail Altar.
"To Bruce.... something" raising the toast was Leviathan, the eccentric with a drunken knack, "may he... something"
"Agreed" as if to juxtapose Leviathan, Exodus sat beside him, shaven, combed and in a sharp three-piece suit, "he died saving us from something terrible"
"He may have been the greatest man I ever knew" Owen sat glassy-eyed with a pint in front of him, "A Bruce-full world is far happier than a Bruce-less one"
"Maybe it's just me, but I like to think that he's out there somewhere" Leviathan postulated, "that beyond this life there's something more mysterious"
"Wow, you're more hammered than I ever gave you credit for" Exodus rubbed an eyelash or a tear, "Brandy, more for the gentlemen here, we're in mourning"
"No it's the afternoon sirs" Brandy winked and obliged with his request, "I always had a thing for Bruce"
"I'm betting you don't now"
"Funnily enough no" Brandy joined the three sad men, helping herself to Owen's untouched whisky. The three did not look exactly like mourners are supposed to look, Leviathan was giddy with alcohol, Exodus was now checking his phone messages and Owen was at least putting in a little effort to look forlorn.
"Oh good, a message" Exodus held up his electronic gizmo, "probably another of the million who want to pass their condolences through the SMS"
"It's tomorrow's world" Leviathan raised his glass, proclaiming something at least semi-philosophical, "and we're the children of yesterday"
"Go to Selledrome ASAP" Exodus recited, "that's interesting"
"What?" Owen snapped from his daze, "something interesting?"
"I apparently sent that SMS message to myself"
"Well" Leviathan finished his pitcher, "there's nothing for it Watson, the game's afoot. We must investigate"
"Oh, do we have to?" Brandy said in her high tone, "we're just getting started liqouring up in Bruce's memory and there's good chance I may sleep with one of you"
"Selledrome eh?" Owen noted, "I should go see Alice, cousin of a cousin or something like that"
"Off we go" Leviathan staggered to the door, "to Selledrome, don't spare the horses"
And then he collapsed.
..
SUNDAY 01:30 PM
Daylight didn't suit Cosmo, nor did it suit anyone he would be associated with. His idea of his family would be all those 'who you wouldn't to dinner' and in all fairness, it worked out well. But he was still unsuited to sunlight.
Wandering around his home town felt funny because of the extensive travelling had changed his perspective. Plus, he was instructed very precisely that Selledrome would have to go. It was a festering site for villains to hide and reproduce and amputation was the necessary action. Cosmo didn't follow orders unless he thought they were right. He had also been given free reign about how he would euthanize an entire city.
Still, it was his home and one likes to see their favourites spots one last time before having to eradicate it from existence from orders from superiors he wasn't quite sure existed. There was the Museum, the Ascania Theatre, and of course, Selledrome High School. Cosmo was careful to avoid seeing anyone from the education site; the harbouring hatred could be done without. The more of Selledrome he saw, the more Cosmo regretted receiving the instructions he had been handed.
"But Hestia, the Storm is here-"
"Which is precisely why you must destroy Selledrome Cosmo. You and I both know that while it stands, it will be the rotten apple that ruins the bag. We're in a War Godfather, and there is precious little we can do to openly strike against the enemy. destroying Selledrome is the best course of action"
"Best course of action for who?"
"Cosmo, do you want to win this War?"
"Of course I do, I'd die for the Rapscallions"
"Well then why can't those in Selledrome die for the Rapscallions?"
"You know what I mean"
"Cosmo, I will assign someone to wipe Selledrome from the face of the earth. I just thought it'd be a nice touch if I offered you the chance to clean up your mess"
"Tell me where to meet the plane"
Kicking a can along the footpath, Cosmo considered ways to end the suffering of the city which he had grown in, fed, and clothed. This was the watering hole for the madness.
CHAPTER THREE: REVALIDATION
MONDAY: 11:30 AM
Trapped in Arizona, the proud state in the US of A, two nomadic Byronisque figures might find themselves in not a terribly comfortable position.
Slapping fake passports across their palms, Robert and Marissa sat in the café across the street from the airport. Ordering two lattes, they sat silently in their chairs for a full fifteen minutes before swapping battle tactics.
“OK, we pose as flight inspectors who are performing a routine check up on healthy and safety standards” Robert suggested, “that might work”
“Or we could smuggle ourselves in as flight attendants?” Marissa played around with the coffee she wasn’t going to drink, “these are really weak ideas”
“That’s the trouble when you’ve traveled for as long as we have” Robert lamented, “ingenuity requires constant genius and that sounds like a lot of work”
“We’ve just squeezed the juice from the lemon and now we’re left with just a lemon with no juice”
“That was either really clever or really sarcastic”
“Come on, we’ve still got the pizzazz in us” Marissa tried to make herself vibrant, in an upright posture and a painful smile, “if we can’t think of a new way to get back to Selledrome then we don’t deserve to go home”
Robert flagged down a passing waitress and ordered another coffee. Coffee had always been good to Robert and he saw no reason to give up on it at his time of need.
“What does the book say?” Robert asked, “anything interesting?”
Marissa gingerly took a worn note book from her coat with the words SPA 4237 across its spine and ran her hand across the paper.
“Well” she began, leafing through the pages, “lately, I’ve noticed a lot of warning notes, jotted into the margins”
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“Very neat, very slanted, very symmetrical” she reported, “not exactly much to go on”
“What exactly are these warnings?”
“Harbingers of doom Mein Herr” Marissa smiled at Robert viciously, “all in reference to the great Wipe Out of the classical era”
“Wipe Out?”
“It’s one of the few entries into the diary part” Marissa found the bus ticket she had used to mark the spot, “she’s talking of a time when there were people bent on exterminating the common man and leave the select few to rule the utopia, in a letter from Rusty he refers to an eponymous Selledrome Strip”
“Part of the Ragamuffins?”
“Who knows? I do love history but there is only so much fiction a girl can take” Marissa closed the book, “but the little notes are spooky”
“Spooky? Are you beginning to lose your nut Dame Birmingham?”
“Hardly but listen to this… ‘…when the time of judgment occurs, when those lost will reunite, our hero will fail but the RAM will save us”
“RAM? Random Access Memory?”
“Robert And Marissa perhaps”
“Red Asthmatic Mesopotamian for all we know” Robert wiped the foam mustache from his whiskers with a paper napkin, “but what are we going to do about a flight?”
“Perhaps we tell the truth about our identities, if it’s a trip home we’re after” Marissa began folding her napkin corner to corner, “or is that too obvious?”
“I’d quite like to get back undetected” Robert noted, “have we any idea of what we’re going to do once we get back?”
“I would quite like to see what we’ve missed, we’ve been away for too long” Marissa said airily, “a lot of things might have changed, houses have been knocked down, shops have been built, perhaps they’ve abolished illegal U-turns”
“For a pessimist, you’re really optimistic”
“That’s ridiculous”
“I just do what you lobe”
“Hey, damn my programming” Marissa had reopened the book and began picking at the back page, “the last page has been glued down, there’s a compartment between the last page and the back cover”
“Almighty Zarquon, we traveled for as long as we did and didn’t notice that?”
“We were busy”
“Hello” Marissa greeted three black plastic cards and the note that fell out of the hidden space, “what’s your name?”
“‘For use in emergencies RAM, love, Cos’” Robert read the note, “what does that mean?”
“Three cards” Marissa turned each card over, about the size of an ID card, “for three people?”
“Cosmo, Vxyzin and Rusty?” listed Robert, “it fits”
“RAM…”
“He can’t have been referring to Robert And Marissa because he had no idea that Robert And Marissa were going to take his book, Cosmo didn’t plan any of this” quashed Robert, remembering back to the last time he had seen Cosmo.
It had been an inglorious battle outside of a museum, a fight of truly gladiatorial proportions. As villains were arrested, good men were returned home, Robert and Marissa beamed as they watched Cosmo Smith, the hero of the day, and his companion Roland, discuss a matter over two motorcycles.
Robert put his hands to his sides, feeling a square lump inside his pockets. He took out this lump to find the SPA 4237 book sitting innocently inside his pocket.
“Wait, Cosmo!” Robert realized but it was too late, he was drowned out by the noise the motorcycles made as Cosmo and Roland rode off into the sunset, leaving the book in Robert’s possession.
“See it did happen? That last paragraph shows it’s an accident!” Robert said aloud, to which Marissa wrinkled her nose in confusion.
“Did what happen in what?” Marissa said in a hushed voice, anxious that her sidekick was losing his marbles, not an uncommon occurrence amongst travelers.
“Oh, just a little thing I have going with the reader”
“What?”
“Never mind, forget it”
“I’ll try” and Marissa brought the cup of cold coffee to her lips, hovering the liquid just underneath her mouth.
“Well, shall we use these?” Robert turned one of the black cards over in his hands, “why not?”
“Well, what are we going to use them with?” Marissa had spotted the non-descript nature of the discoveries, “that ATM machine over there?”
“Why not?” Robert trotted over to the Barclays ATM and slid the plastic into the card slot.
“One moment…” the screen lit up and during that moment, Robert thought of what the future might hold for such a man such as himself. If Marissa was to become a debutante, could the two remain friends? If they could, would they still travel? And if they couldn’t, would Robert travel without his other half? How is one supposed to walk without two legs? Robert needed Marissa’s support and Marissa needed Robert’s support, that was the way it had always been, the ineffable combo to which nothing could break. Their friendship unshakeable, Robert knew one thing in his heart, that whatever the two would face, they’d face it together. There was nothing which could surprise him now.
“Welcome Robert Amadeus Marx” the machine read which surprised Robert for two reasons. The first was he had missed completely that his initials were RAM and also that the machine knew it was dealing with the Honourable Robert Marx.
“Please present these tickets to the airport customs” the machine spat out three airline tickets, “have a nice day”
And as if to truly cement this astonishment, the ATM exploded.
“Good morning sir” the customs officer grinned behind the counter, “and where are you flying today?”
Unsure of what to say, Robert simply slid two of the three airline tickets under the window. A quick consultation on the computer, and the customs officer nodded and handed them two pieces of orange cardboard.
“Er… lovely day today?” the customs officer tried to make a little conversation as the two in front of him, “I mean, unless you’re a terrorist and you two aren’t terrorists are you?”
“Well, we don’t intentionally make the planes crash if that’s what you’re asking” Marissa nonchalantly said, “but either there is a God out to get us or we are really unlucky”
“The RAM 4237 flight from Arizona to Selledrome with a two hour layover in Jekyll, have a nice day” the customs officer smiled and tipped his hat to the two before servicing a Japanese tourist and his family.
Robert and Marissa wandered through the duty-free section of the airport, buying up books, CDs and a gadget that Robert had no idea what it did but had fallen in love with the thing immensely. After the somewhat odd shopping spree, they settled into an Ethiopian restaurant for privacy rather than nutrition. After discussing their flight plans, the two began talking about the tarot credit cards.
“How did the card know who we were?” Marissa asked in a hushed voice, “or that it was you and not me who was at the ATM?”
“Screw that mystery, why did it explode?”
“Did the ATM have a security point?” a throaty voice asked, “it’s a fish eye built into the casing, at about your eye level?”
“Yes, it did”
“Well then its possible” a man in a white shirt, black tie and solid overcoat shifted into their booth, “though extremely immoral, to have a live feed to another computer somewhere”
“Who would have that kind of access?”
“Well, it’s difficult to say, no real way of tracing it” the man was scarfing down a croissant, “excuse my manners, I missed breakfast, my sister told me to go to Selledrome right away”
“Oh, same here almost”
“Yes, Vxzyin’s a… well, she’s a vixen sometimes”
“How do you spell your sister’s name?”
“V-X-Y-Z-I-N, I’m Reginald, Reginald Allengard Mizingo”
“RAM? Blimey, it’s turning up more than 4237” Robert said.
“Do you know Vxyzin?” Reginald said in a panicked voice, “is she in some sort of trouble?”
“No, why?”
“She sent me a letter posthaste” Reginald held up some paper, “said that Cosmo was distraught and left her, heading to Selledrome with something important and would I meet her there?”
Marissa needed to check, “You know Cosmo? Cosmo Smith?”
“Cosmo Prince” Reginald corrected, “Although now that I think about it, I only have his word for it but that’s generally enough so there you are”
“Did you know him well?”
“Had him over for a few dinner parties” recalled Reginald, “very nice man, very polite, knows his cutlery to the spoon”, he nodded to the spoon tucked into the top button hole of Robert’s waistcoat, “nice Edward IIX by the way, very rare, very Oscar Wilde”
“Thank you, I thought it masculine”
‘I am not having this conversation’ Marissa thought as she poked a ripe olive around her drink with a toothpick, focusing on the carbon bubbles.
“Cosmo’s coming back to Selledrome” Robert summarized, “isn’t it such a coincidence that your Debutante Ball is happening at the same time?”
“I don’t think it was an accident”
“Then what do you think?”
“I don’t know, but we’ve got a flight to catch”
CHAPTER FOUR: RETRIBUTION
MONDAY 01:42 PM
Cosmo looked for inspiration around the city he loved, a way to bring it to its ultimate suicide. The city had bred a monster and now that monster would have to silence it forever. He had often been there to save the city so pretty, so energetic, but if it was to grow, so would the evil rooted there. And he, Cosmo, the champion, had planted the seeds.
How could he do the unthinkable? The anti-matter machine to create an explosion? To use a proton field to melt the matter within the expansive hamlet? To use a Snare Equalizer to vaporize all states of matter into superfluid?
One thing had been put aside, Tobias Southern needed to be weeded out. He was not going to get away with his return to the dark side. Cosmo needed to be sure of where things stood in the world and Tobias Southern was a good place to start.
..
MONDAY 01:45 PM
Celia put herself into an open posture, an inviting posture for Southern. He couldn’t be frightened off, not at the crux of the storm.
Southern collapsed himself on the park bench and handed Celia a brown bag.
“A biopsy of the machine we’re working on” Southern introduced, “Cosmo should be able to work out what it is with that”
“Now I just need to find him” Celia didn’t peek into the bag, she wouldn’t understand anyway, “did you contact someone who might stop Cosmo?”
“I did” Southern said with a hint of pride, “are you certain he wants to destroy Selledrome City?”
“He’s got to; he got orders from a mysterious superior”
“Cosmo never takes orders”
“I know but he’s intent on destroying Selledrome and the villains inside, they are the ones he has been battling for so long”
“This is serious, I’ve read Cosmo’s file, he could accomplish this in his sleep”
“How did you get out?” Celia realized, “won’t they notice you’re missing at the OPA?”
“Let me worry about that” Southern insisted, “I need you to find Cosmo Smith and tell him not to destroy the city”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll see if there’s some standard protocol for a city-wide evacuation”
“But if Cosmo truly wants to destroy Selledrome, isn’t it the population he wants as well?”
“Cosmo has not told you the whole story so I won’t either” Southern said, ashamed, “but believe me, there’s seems to be something on the OPA radars”
“What is it?”
“Something very large, something very dangerous, the flagship of the Grim Reaper”
“What are you going to do about it?”
..
MONDAY 01:45 PM
Over the Atlantic Ocean the Official Physics Agency had stationed a fleet of illegal aircrafts, mainly science vehicles for calculating acceleration of atomic bombs. Arranged in a V shape, they were flying on formation in a likely attempt at confrontation for the gigantic shadow on the radar.
Given twenty-four hours notice, Doctor Maphea had hopped on a Mach 24 plane and stood in the control room of the Ferdinand, the largest aircraft to be built by a private sector. Armed with all ranges of weapons, Maphea felt confident that at least he would live if the Shadow approached the fleet. Looking out of the window of the plane, Maphea saw the cool blue ocean on the exterior, no land for miles, truly a sight worthy for some calendar.
“Stewart” Maphea turned to his assistant, “send me a link to the fleet intercom”
“Very good sir”
“OPA fleet” Maphea spoke into the intercom microphone, “we are about to encounter the mysterious shadow. Do not deviate from the planned assault, we must surround this shadow and if I deem it useful, prepare to board from the starboard side. Hijacking this-”
“OPA” a voice crackled over the intercom, “please pay attention, this is a message from Admiral Byrnes, head of the Scallywags”
Maphea sat up and adjusted his necktie as the monitor connected began to broadcast a live feed to a man in an orange suit and tie, red trench coat, and scarlet panama hat. His face was gaunt and pale, his dirty black hair parted to one side.
“Tyson Byrnes…” Maphea’s eyes became wide as he recognized the face.
“My name is Tyson Byrnes, aren’t you happy to see me Dad?” Tyson referenced his creation, “I’m head of the Scallywags now although I do hope to change the name, quite frankly, I’m embarrassed to say it”
“What do you want?” Maphea was prepared to comply with any demand the feared Tyson Byrnes might give, “I’ll give you anything you want”
“Yes you will” Tyson nodded, “because you created me, without my permission. You stole Cosmo’s essence to create me and now my essence will destroy you”
“Sir!” Stewart rushed over to his boss, “look out of the windshield”
“Yes” Tyson grinned, “I think you’d better”
Maphea tilted the visor and gaped his mouth in awe. A massive war craft, unlike anything Maphea had ever seen. Totally red in colour, it was shaped quite like a beetle except that it’s size was vast enough to allow Boeing 747s to land upon it.
“Do you like my new transport?” Tyson grinned, showing several cracked teeth, “I designed it myself”
“Byrnes” Maphea drew himself to full height which didn’t faze Tyson at all, “if you attempt to engage us in battle, we will be forced to fire upon your ship”
“You would fight the SS Styx?” Tyson giggled, “it would be a suicide run”
“What do you want?” Maphea drew upon his humility, hoping it would appeal to Tyson, “I’ll be happy-”
“Only to see you dead” Tyson smiled, “you and Cosmo and every Ruffian left on Earth. First mate, destroy two vessels on the port side”
Maphea could see a torpedo fly past his own ship and explode upon two large ships, both known for their extreme hyperdense material, supposedly unbreakable. Each ship began to crumble and fall into the ocean.
“I hope the OPA cleans up their mess” Tyson roared with pride, “I wouldn’t want to be thought of as a litterbug”
“Tyson, I’m begging you to reconsider” Maphea said, secretly sending the ‘retreat’ command through the ship’s network.
“Ah” Tyson looked at his computer, “you appear to be commanding a retreat. Wise, but futile. First mate, destroy three ships on the starboard side”
Another three torpedoes were fired with extreme accuracy, killing a total of one hundred and eighteen men.
“Now” Tyson folded his arms, “I may not destroy you if you tell me the location of one Cosmo Smith”
“I don’t know” Maphea said, the fear bringing out the truth, “I have no idea”
“They say that you have been tracking him for some time now” Tyson growled, “to perfect a clone of him”
“He’s disappeared” declared Maphea, “I have no idea where he’s gone”
“Wrong answer”
“I’m sorry” Maphea accepted his fate.
“I’m not” Tyson beamed and began laying coordinates for the next missile.
“We surrender” Maphea screamed, “We surrender! We surrender!”
“Oh, do you now?” Tyson pondered, “well this changes everything” and with that he switched off the intercom.
From Tyson’s captain chair, he saw the forty men he’d selected to run the gargantuan ship.
“Destroy all OPA ships; that is a direct order” Tyson smiled.
Between the OPA fleet and the SS Styx there was enough nuclear firepower to take down a small continent. The OPA ships began firing and being whittled away, one by one.
Maphea sat at his post, realizing his own vessel was being spared until last so he could see what he had caused.
“What have I done?” Maphea whispered before a nuclear bomb was hurtled towards the Ferdinand.
CHAPTER FIVE: RECOMBINATION
MONDAY 01:55 PM
Tobias Southern put down the headset, he couldn’t bear to hear his colleagues die at the hands of the insane Tyson Byrnes. He couldn’t help but watch the radar though and one by one, each shape of the OPA fleet disappeared.
..
MONDAY 01:55 PM
Incredibly, Marissa, Robert and Reginald did not need to jump out of the plane mid-flight. It had landed perfectly in Jekyll airport where the layover began.
“We could go look at the bookstores” Robert suggested and then Marissa chimed in, “or the arcade”
“Actually, I have things to do here” Reginald smiled, “so I’ll need to depart for a while”
“Well, looks like we’re splitting up”
And they did.
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Marissa was a gal born to be in the arcade. Her initials MJB were more recurrent in pinball high scores than the legendary AAA and she had won the MAME awards three years in a row. Her claw-machine skills undeterred, she had just won a brown teddy bear.
“A bear, nice” a voice called to her. Marissa turned to see a character in a white coat and long hair wave at her, “how are you today?”
“Well, better when I didn’t know you” Marissa shot back.
“You don’t even know me” stubbornly said her competitor, “I’m Leviathan”
“Seriously?” Marissa couldn’t comprehend anyone naming their child after a sea monster, “Leviathan, interesting name”
“I’m a Jekyll boy” he said, “heading to Selledrome, where might you be going you radiant goddess?”
“Does that line actually work?”
“Sometimes”
“Well, Selledrome actually”
“Me too” Leviathan nodded, “full truth of it actually, Exodus got a strange text message summoning him there”
“Exodus?”
“Well, he probably has a real name” Leviathan smiled, “ah, here’s Owen”
Still in his funeral suit, Owen shook Marissa’s hand and stood solemnly next to his friend.
“So, what kind of strange text message?”
“Well, it goes something like this…”
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Scanning the shelves for books that might interest him, Robert found something in the corner of his eye that might interest him. A very cute girl with long brown hair and a purple top.
“Ah, Great Expectations” Robert said over the girl’s shoulder, “quite good, bit boring in the middle”
“Right, go away”
“Ah come on” Robert followed the girl, “at least let me introduce myself-”
“Don’t hold your breath”
“I’m the Honourable Robert Marx” Robert said, feeling crestfallen as the girl walked over to a man in a leather jacket and beige trench coat.
“Hello Robert Marx” the man said, “or should I say Tony Eason?”
“What?” Robert was confused and his posture showed it, “have we met?”
“Not exactly” the man said, “but you helped me in Emortia when I was held up in an elevator”
“Who are you?”
“Charlie Fairgray; Does Heaven Have A Phone Number?” introduced the man, “private detective”
“Sally Jackson” the girl said, if Charlie felt it was safe, so did she.
“Well if you’re a PI then who are you working for?” Robert attempted to make conversation, “anyone I know?”
“Yes” a familiar voice said behind Robert, “feel like getting an apple-bacon-cheese sandwich?”
“Conner!” Robert exclaimed, hugging his friend, “haven’t seen you since the Mizingo Café!”
“I know” Conner said, tilting his head slightly to look at Robert, “I was there”
“Well what are you doing back? Did you find the rapscallion hub? Did you find Cosmo?”
“Inside information tells me he’ll be in Selledrome” Conner divulged, “I’ve hired a private investigator to help me find him”
“What do you want from Cosmo?”
“Truth about why Sally died”
“What?” Charlie’s Sally became interested.
“Sally Jackson” Conner clarified but Sally knew it was a near miss from her own name.
Robert cleared his throat, “it’s funny you mention it because I believe that someone’s summoning us all here”
“All who?”
“Anyone who’s met Cosmo, first Reginald, us, you, who else?”
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
The recently renamed Eremina Tower stood proudly in Selledrome as the lighthouse of progress for the city. Katherine Eeremina had fought hard to steal the tower from it’s owners and now it was wrenched in her hands she wouldn’t let go.
Eremina was not a particularly repugnant woman but her steely manner prevented anyone to attempt personal connections with her. She dressed in a black business suit, kept her long dark hair in a bun and constantly kept her brow furrowed. As she sat at her desk with her feet up, holding the phone casually, she knew her assistant was too terrified to approach her.
“Chao Smythe” Eremina pleasantly greeted her comrade over the phone, “how are you today?”
“Where are the convicts” Chao asked sweetly, “because I know you have them?”
“Where are you calling from?”
“St. Reuben’s Asylum, apparently, there was a mass breakout” Chao informed her, “did you orchestrate it?”
“Orchestrate a breakout?” Eremina put on her faux surprise, “I would never even consider thinking about how to speculate over a breakout for the criminally insane, they are both a danger to themselves and to the general public”
“Did Tyson?”
There was an awkward pause.
“Yes”
“It didn’t happen then” Chao instructed, “shred every document, delete all emails, if you’ve made a phone call to Tyson, purchase the company, no one must know of the plan”
“To keep hostages for an absurd amount of money does seem like an awfully cheesy idea” Eremina admitted, “but as long as I get my cut, I will do whatever it is that you need”
“Of course” Chao petted Eeremina’s hubris, “now I have things to attend to, I’ll talk to you later”
Eremina hung up, glad to have met Chao Smythe.
..
MONDAY 02:00 PM
Reginald stood beside the limosouine as Vxyzin exited.
“How are you brother?”
“Ah, Vxyzin, I have been…” Reginald struggled for the right word, “investigating”
“Investigating what?”
“Investigating Ruffians, and the Scallywags”
“Why? Both are derelict”
“Not as much as you might think” Reginald grimaced, “because I think that someone is gathering us up all in one place”
“Selledrome?”
“Correct”
“But for what purpose?”
“I don’t know” Reginald admitted, “but I have a feeling”
“A feeling? Is that all?”
“I need you to meet two of my new friends”
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Chao hung up the pay phone, unable to contain her laughter. Eremina hadn’t even traced the call, something Chao always did. She also believed in the faux plan Tyson had fabricated, fed to her with a silver Edwardian spoon.
Chao stuck her hands in coat pockets and began to walk away when-
The phone rang once.
The phone rang twice.
The phone range a third time.
“Rumplestiltskin” Chao answered.
“It’s Tyson” the growl said over the tone, “Maphea is dead, I killed him, and now I need you to organize a few things. Got a pen?”
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Cosmo stood inside the house that once held Tobias Southern before his move to the OPA bunker. It was such a suburban setting that Cosmo couldn’t quite believe that a man of such evil brilliance could live in such a boring household. By himself.
Still, there was a lot of technical junk in the house, Cosmo felt that some of it must be useful. For his next trick, he’d make the city of Selledrome disappear.
“I’ve got work to do” he said to himself aloud as he spotted a picture of Southern’s dead fiancé, the beautiful Eva Solomon. Bitch.
“Admiring a picture of me?” said the chilly voice behind Cosmo.
Cosmo froze and then replied cautiously, “you’re dead”
“That’s what Conner Brown said too but we’re good like that”
Cosmo turned his body around to see a rather shapely girl wearing a spindly black dress, her long hair tied in two braids.
“Even death isn’t permanent anymore”
“No, it isn’t, is it Cosmo?”
CHAPTER SIX: REEVALUATION
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Cosmo stared at Eva Solomon, cautious but curious. He had experienced hallucinatory states and virtual reality before but this was neither. He was facing a dead woman.
“How…” Cosmo began slowly, making Eva smile, “how did you survive?”
“You mean ‘How did I survive you and Southern murdering me?’ Cosmo?” Eva grinned but rather than answer him, she headed down the flight of stairs that led to the basement, beckoning Cosmo to follow. Groaning, Cosmo entered the lion’s den.
..
MONDAY 02:05 PM
Tyson looked over the Ferdinand lovingly, watching the crew scurry around, the pilots, the maintenance, the civilians, it was in essence a floating continent. Most of the crew were the escaped convicts from St. Reuben’s Asylum but he had selected some from referrals. Tyson stuck his hands in coat pockets as he watched his motley consortium work like pieces of an engine, all in synch.
“Byrnes” reported a man in a blue peacoat and untidy hair who was known as ‘Grail’, “we have reports coming in from our field intelligence”
“Grail” Tyson smiled, “if they were intelligent, I would not have sent them into the field”
“Very good sir” Grail was not really a weedy person but he did show respect to the man who broke him out of solitary confinement, “now Drayvale and Evangelos have seen the soldiers of Cosmo’s army grow every closer to Selledrome, just like you expected”
“Of course they would” Tyson grinned, leaning against the handrail, “they are so predictable, so easy to manipulate, their hunger for answers brings them back to Cosmo”
..
MONDAY 02:30 PM
Southern kept his head down as he filed the paperwork, writing off expenses, deliberately wasting the OPA funding. He had no idea what damage they might do with a Time machine and he had another thought occur to him. Tyson was heading to finish off Cosmo, which would lead him to Selledrome. The bloodlust in Tyson would surely lead him to the OPA and then what would the deranged Tyson Apollo Byrnes do with a Time Machine?
There was nothing for it- no help could be done, stinging from the inside. He would have to dismantle his Time Machine and resign. Take Robert and Marissa to the safe house on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, reunite them with their families he had plucked so discreetly from their own lives.
Bustling down into the cooler sub-levels of the headquarters, Southern felt the screwdrivers, power drills and sticks of dynamite in his coat. Entering the code into the electronic door he entered, only to be greeted by seven armed security guards and Chao Smythe.
“Hello”
“Can I help you?”
“What are you doing with my Time Machine?” Southern asked, drawing himself to full height.
Chao’s grinned increased, “I think the real question is ‘what are you doing with my time machine?’” and with that she snapped her fingers, “search him”
It took the guards less than two minutes to find Southern’s dynamite. Smiling sheepishly, Southern sent a silent prayer to anything that might get him out.
“Destroying my latest weapon Doctor Southern?”
“Well…” Southern hoped the airiness of the reply would buy him a few more minutes, “let’s just say I don’t know a lot about what’s going on but I know enough”
“If you’re praying, I’d make that prayer posthaste” Chao rubbed her hands.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Not As Hypocritical As You Think
Benedict and Parable, two men in matching hoodies, are standing in front of a projection of a big door with knapsacks on their laps. Benedict is strumming his guitar. He starts playing Pachabel’s Canon before breaking off into Eminem’s ‘Without Me’. Parable raps along with Benedict giving back-up
Benedict: Guess who’s back?
Back again?
Parable mimes cruxification
Benedict: He is back
Tell a friend
Parable: I’ve created a blockbuster, ‘cause nobody wants to see Moses no more
They want Jesus, he’s chopped liver
Well if you want Jesus, this is what I’ll give ya’
A little bit of wine mixed in with some hard wafer
Some requests I mix in with my bedtime prayer
And hope to Jesus that God will care
About my home loans, and tax information
Wearing jewellery of the poor guy’s cruxification
Now you waited this long but you never read the full story
All so not to end up in purgatory
And sure we could just sit here and hope
But just for good measure, call up the damn Pope
So Dan Brown won’t let me be
Or let me be me, or Christianity
I didn’t even like Mel Gibson on the Silver Screen
It was just so devoid without He
So Catholics, give sin to liberalism
And Protestants, come on and preach creationism
It’s not really about a circumcision
Get your best priests out, dressed and ready
And stop all the townsfolk yelling ‘it’s a Paddie!’
Together: Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Parable: It’s a prayer, I go tit for tat with
Any Protestant or Catholic
Unless you’re Mormon, in which case don’t be too sick
When you find out that your bicycle’s been nicked
And Book of Genesis? You can be stomped by menaces
In popularity, about the same as a Dentists
It’s a testament too old, excursion
It’s over; it’s even in the Hebrew version
Now let’s go, just hand over your Jews,
Your Athiests, Agnostics, you choose
Because if you don’t, they’ll be sent to the Blues
In addition, they’ll miss out on the child abuse
But sometimes, I do insist,
Everybody just wants to talk about the Exorcist
Well if you really must persist
With demons, well here’s Miley Cyrus
No we’re not the first kings of really bad Gospel
It’s so bad we might end up in Hell
But maybe if we put it on CD as well
We’ll all see our bank accounts excel
Hey! There’s a concept that works
Except for Mormons, but we all know they’re jerks
But no matter how many priests musically
Are gifted, it’s all about He
Together: Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Benedict: Guess who’s back?
Back again?
Parable mimes cruxification
Benedict: He is back
Tell a friend
Parable: I’ve created a blockbuster, ‘cause nobody wants to see Moses no more
They want Jesus, he’s chopped liver
Well if you want Jesus, this is what I’ll give ya’
A little bit of wine mixed in with some hard wafer
Some requests I mix in with my bedtime prayer
And hope to Jesus that God will care
About my home loans, and tax information
Wearing jewellery of the poor guy’s cruxification
Now you waited this long but you never read the full story
All so not to end up in purgatory
And sure we could just sit here and hope
But just for good measure, call up the damn Pope
So Dan Brown won’t let me be
Or let me be me, or Christianity
I didn’t even like Mel Gibson on the Silver Screen
It was just so devoid without He
So Catholics, give sin to liberalism
And Protestants, come on and preach creationism
It’s not really about a circumcision
Get your best priests out, dressed and ready
And stop all the townsfolk yelling ‘it’s a Paddie!’
Together: Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Parable: It’s a prayer, I go tit for tat with
Any Protestant or Catholic
Unless you’re Mormon, in which case don’t be too sick
When you find out that your bicycle’s been nicked
And Book of Genesis? You can be stomped by menaces
In popularity, about the same as a Dentists
It’s a testament too old, excursion
It’s over; it’s even in the Hebrew version
Now let’s go, just hand over your Jews,
Your Athiests, Agnostics, you choose
Because if you don’t, they’ll be sent to the Blues
In addition, they’ll miss out on the child abuse
But sometimes, I do insist,
Everybody just wants to talk about the Exorcist
Well if you really must persist
With demons, well here’s Miley Cyrus
No we’re not the first kings of really bad Gospel
It’s so bad we might end up in Hell
But maybe if we put it on CD as well
We’ll all see our bank accounts excel
Hey! There’s a concept that works
Except for Mormons, but we all know they’re jerks
But no matter how many priests musically
Are gifted, it’s all about He
Together: Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Now this looks like a job for Christ
And everybody, he’s got it right
He has no proof but the dude can fly
And you’ll go to Heaven when you die
Lyrics
Sorry about the ?, they were when I used Bebo (I know, I'm ashamed) and when I transferred them they take the place of apostrophes and commas.
Finally, a rap for Asians.
I don’t smoke pot
But I smoke Pot Noodle
I don’t eat dogs
No wait, I eat poodle
I’m a straight A student
Twenty hours in library
I got a pocket protector
And I think white girls are scary
I don’t get my restricted
Because I’d just crash the car
But I go for twelve hour stretches
Playing DDR
Maths is my bitch and
Science is my hoe
Don’t need crack cos
I got Yu’Gi’Oh
I?m an unco guy
Ain?t never get no beaver
Except in the times
Of Yellow Fever
I got a million cousins
And I?m a pretty smart fellow
You can?t tell us apart
It?s because we?re all yellow
And now young grasshopper
Time of Hammer stop
If I?m here
No one?s running fish and chip shop
If you mess with me
Then at the end of the day
If you aren?t looking
I spit in your takeaway
I?ll mess you
If you mess with me
And if you get me back
I?ll screw your Chi
If we?re going to play Halo
Then I?m your commander
If you want, I know a guy
Who can get you a Panda
Now please stop
It?s Eastern Time
You can get way more with Number 8. Wire
And a bamboo vine
Ain?t going to find
Any other rapper finer
And I?ll tell you why
It?s because I?m from China
Kanto and
Town of Shaolin
Ho Chi Minh
No hair on my chin
and play the violin
and Got yellow skin
From the rage that?s within
And I?m the Errol Flynn
Of the Asian Junction
So if you ever mess with me
You mess with us
Twenty three Japs on a bus
And if you think you?ve had enough
Then times are getting pretty rough
Because it?s just a rough occasion
And we?re in this equation
Be afraid of Koreans
?cause it?s the time of Invasion
Frank Sinatra once said that
Love and Marriage went together
like a horse and carriage
Racism and Wars go together
like pimps and whores
Cos'
the Saturn Rap by MC Vicodin (my rap name, oh yeah), i did it in year nine to avoid having to do an actual presentation on astrology. It actually worked because no one expected an Asian to rap. Who knew?
The Saturn rap-
I thought of having my mouth flapping
About the sixth planet from the sun, they call it Saturn
Then I thought, to do it rap
Like today?s generation gap.
It?s cold with dust and rocks and what not
And at the second biggest planet that?s a lot
And by the way, if you don?t like this, don?t get whiny
Or I?ll get my ninjas on your heinie
Galileo said there were rings, they said he was a nutter
But in 1895 they had to change the rudder
Turned out the rings were real, that they actually existed
And if Galileo was around he?d be tight fisted
He didn?t hate the Church even if they deserved it
Because they called all his theory a load of bullsh?crap? fool
The rings are made of particles
And a guy called Christiaan Huygens was on the new articles
Christiaan proved there were rings round Saturn orbit
When he found this out it was ?Eureka! That?s it?
Saturn?s got a whole bunch of natural satellites
But they?re all spread out. They?re not very tight
As of 2005 Saturn?s moon?s reached 56
So go look up at night if that?s how you get your kicks
Saturn?s made up of a whole bunch of gases
That?s something they tell you at NASA
Inside Saturn have hot gases to make you sizzle
So watch out the next time you go to Saturn, shizzle my nizzle
From Saturn to the sun, that?s about fifteen hundred K
But if you make the journey you probably won?t see the light of day
It gets down to ?140C, I can tell
So I?ll ship you all there, have myself ROTFLOL
It?s got a radius of kilometres, 60.2
So if you want to walk around it, goodbye adieu
Compared to Earth it?s twelve times bigger
And if you haven?t noticed, I?m a total wigga
Saturn?s hard to see if your telescope is tarnished
Or if you?re blind or if you?re Amish
It has this thing, every thirty years
And it?s not like god changing gears
It?s a huge storm, it?s really wow
But if you?re caught in it, well that?s just ow
It?s called the Great White Spot, it?s very pale
Here on Earth, that?s fifty on the Richter Scale
Right, I gotta go, I better shoo
So as they say on Orkan, Na?No?Na?No
Hip?hop?cocricy
The crazy cat lady, she?s has a dog
It?s a Nazi who attends the annual Synagogue
It?s like talking about a blind ophthalmologist
Or discussing the life of a male gynaecologist
It?s the KKK going to the NAACP
Or looking at Pikachu looking down at a battery
It?s a hippie, judging a kitty with catnip
It?s a tourettes laughing at William Shatner?ed
My pants, sorry, someone pass me a wiper
But look at that baby, he?s gotta get outta the diaper
Sorry, I?m just one of your usual word jerks
Dude, I hate those damn social networks
It?s not my fault, don?t give me the look
I just got accounts on Twitter n? FaceBook
Sorry, it?s just the Jewish banker
Or when I call someone else a wanker
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
OK, you caught me; I?m a Chink hating mathematic
Like a mulatto who claims to be monochromatic
Like America trying to be diplomatic
Look out, Canada?s got a semiautomatic
Sorry America, looks like you lose, so sorry, stink man
Looks like you?re going to have to move back with England
For such a sweet little island they say ?move out?
Like a damn, crack?smoking oath?swearing, cub scout
Sorry to disturb you, it?s the truth-/lie ratio
Kind of like a nun giving fellatio
It happens, don?t try deny it or apologize Osama
You?d be worse than the never?changing Obama
Who accepts these things happen; a dollar short of fifty cents
Or pole?vaulting Mexicans not going over the fence
This is my own rap; don?t try to sing along
Lest I class you as the Trekkie who hates the Klingon
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
I?m a non?conformist; but we all look the same
I?m a comedian and yet I sound so lame
If we test a death trap; don?t wait up for MacGyver
Oh shit, look out, it?s a woman driver
I wear a leather jacket but I don?t sound like the Fonz
Yes, I?m homosexual but I don?t listen to Elton John
I?m an Irish, but I don?t like the taste of beer
I?m a Communist but I don?t like to share
Yeah, that?s right I?m a starving Hypoglycaemic
Also I?m a vampire who likes the anaemic
I want to be a maths teacher but I?m fun
I?m a raw steak but I?ve been grilled well done
I?m good at remembering? shit I?ve forgotten
And I?m black but I like to pick cotton
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
Don?t blame the censors; it?s my fault
You let an Asian run wild and this is the result
You tried to make him rap about the flip?side of an issue
Like an asexual who just wants to go and kiss you
But I apologise if I offended anyone there on the shelf
I?m a rapper saying sorry, a contradiction in itself
But as you can see, I don?t think I?m the bomb
I?m a Vodafone warrior; supporting Telecom
Just think of me as your friendly old pagan
Or a Republican Ronald Reagan
I could be a Mormon who doesn?t go knocking door to door
Or a kid who doesn?t want to go into a candy store
Look the message here that I want to relay
Is that just because he watches DS9 that doesn?t make him gay
And that you shouldn?t judge a man on the colour of the skin
It doesn?t matter if they play the flute or the violin
You gotta accept people for who they are, no matter what you think
Or else I?ll come to your door and bash you, you stupid Chink
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
A song I wrote for a sketch, needs chords-
if you were some milk, I?d be a cookie
if you were a nerd, I?d dress up as a wookie
if you were a drunken gambler, I?d be your bookie
you?re stuck in a broken car, I?ll be your MacGyver
you are the sonic in my sonic screwdriver
if you were to say Hitler, I would say Heil
you?re an eight?year?old girl; I?m a paedophile
I?m a thirteen?year?old kid; you?re a DVD of Girls Gone Wild
every time I see you I need a cold shower
if I were Super Mario I?d like to take your flower
If you were Tim Allen, I?d be your neighbor
without you I?m like a Jedi without a light?saber
without you I?m 18th century America without slave labor
if you were a chav, then I?m Vodafone
I bet you?re a dog and I?ll give you a bone
if I was Ross I?d want you to be Rachel
in internet terminology? I want to give you a facial
anywhere else, you?re the prettiest girl in a brothel
I?m an Indian and I think you?re a cow
I?m John Conner; you?re Summer Glau
I know in my heart I will love you forever
I?m Rose Tyler; you?re a man dressed in leather
if I were a gay then you?d be Andrew Lloyd Webber
if you were Wallace, I would be Gromit
if you wanted anorexia, I would want you to vomit
our love is like a falling comet?
Finally, a rap for Asians.
I don’t smoke pot
But I smoke Pot Noodle
I don’t eat dogs
No wait, I eat poodle
I’m a straight A student
Twenty hours in library
I got a pocket protector
And I think white girls are scary
I don’t get my restricted
Because I’d just crash the car
But I go for twelve hour stretches
Playing DDR
Maths is my bitch and
Science is my hoe
Don’t need crack cos
I got Yu’Gi’Oh
I?m an unco guy
Ain?t never get no beaver
Except in the times
Of Yellow Fever
I got a million cousins
And I?m a pretty smart fellow
You can?t tell us apart
It?s because we?re all yellow
And now young grasshopper
Time of Hammer stop
If I?m here
No one?s running fish and chip shop
If you mess with me
Then at the end of the day
If you aren?t looking
I spit in your takeaway
I?ll mess you
If you mess with me
And if you get me back
I?ll screw your Chi
If we?re going to play Halo
Then I?m your commander
If you want, I know a guy
Who can get you a Panda
Now please stop
It?s Eastern Time
You can get way more with Number 8. Wire
And a bamboo vine
Ain?t going to find
Any other rapper finer
And I?ll tell you why
It?s because I?m from China
Kanto and
Town of Shaolin
Ho Chi Minh
No hair on my chin
and play the violin
and Got yellow skin
From the rage that?s within
And I?m the Errol Flynn
Of the Asian Junction
So if you ever mess with me
You mess with us
Twenty three Japs on a bus
And if you think you?ve had enough
Then times are getting pretty rough
Because it?s just a rough occasion
And we?re in this equation
Be afraid of Koreans
?cause it?s the time of Invasion
Frank Sinatra once said that
Love and Marriage went together
like a horse and carriage
Racism and Wars go together
like pimps and whores
Cos'
the Saturn Rap by MC Vicodin (my rap name, oh yeah), i did it in year nine to avoid having to do an actual presentation on astrology. It actually worked because no one expected an Asian to rap. Who knew?
The Saturn rap-
I thought of having my mouth flapping
About the sixth planet from the sun, they call it Saturn
Then I thought, to do it rap
Like today?s generation gap.
It?s cold with dust and rocks and what not
And at the second biggest planet that?s a lot
And by the way, if you don?t like this, don?t get whiny
Or I?ll get my ninjas on your heinie
Galileo said there were rings, they said he was a nutter
But in 1895 they had to change the rudder
Turned out the rings were real, that they actually existed
And if Galileo was around he?d be tight fisted
He didn?t hate the Church even if they deserved it
Because they called all his theory a load of bullsh?crap? fool
The rings are made of particles
And a guy called Christiaan Huygens was on the new articles
Christiaan proved there were rings round Saturn orbit
When he found this out it was ?Eureka! That?s it?
Saturn?s got a whole bunch of natural satellites
But they?re all spread out. They?re not very tight
As of 2005 Saturn?s moon?s reached 56
So go look up at night if that?s how you get your kicks
Saturn?s made up of a whole bunch of gases
That?s something they tell you at NASA
Inside Saturn have hot gases to make you sizzle
So watch out the next time you go to Saturn, shizzle my nizzle
From Saturn to the sun, that?s about fifteen hundred K
But if you make the journey you probably won?t see the light of day
It gets down to ?140C, I can tell
So I?ll ship you all there, have myself ROTFLOL
It?s got a radius of kilometres, 60.2
So if you want to walk around it, goodbye adieu
Compared to Earth it?s twelve times bigger
And if you haven?t noticed, I?m a total wigga
Saturn?s hard to see if your telescope is tarnished
Or if you?re blind or if you?re Amish
It has this thing, every thirty years
And it?s not like god changing gears
It?s a huge storm, it?s really wow
But if you?re caught in it, well that?s just ow
It?s called the Great White Spot, it?s very pale
Here on Earth, that?s fifty on the Richter Scale
Right, I gotta go, I better shoo
So as they say on Orkan, Na?No?Na?No
Hip?hop?cocricy
The crazy cat lady, she?s has a dog
It?s a Nazi who attends the annual Synagogue
It?s like talking about a blind ophthalmologist
Or discussing the life of a male gynaecologist
It?s the KKK going to the NAACP
Or looking at Pikachu looking down at a battery
It?s a hippie, judging a kitty with catnip
It?s a tourettes laughing at William Shatner?ed
My pants, sorry, someone pass me a wiper
But look at that baby, he?s gotta get outta the diaper
Sorry, I?m just one of your usual word jerks
Dude, I hate those damn social networks
It?s not my fault, don?t give me the look
I just got accounts on Twitter n? FaceBook
Sorry, it?s just the Jewish banker
Or when I call someone else a wanker
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
OK, you caught me; I?m a Chink hating mathematic
Like a mulatto who claims to be monochromatic
Like America trying to be diplomatic
Look out, Canada?s got a semiautomatic
Sorry America, looks like you lose, so sorry, stink man
Looks like you?re going to have to move back with England
For such a sweet little island they say ?move out?
Like a damn, crack?smoking oath?swearing, cub scout
Sorry to disturb you, it?s the truth-/lie ratio
Kind of like a nun giving fellatio
It happens, don?t try deny it or apologize Osama
You?d be worse than the never?changing Obama
Who accepts these things happen; a dollar short of fifty cents
Or pole?vaulting Mexicans not going over the fence
This is my own rap; don?t try to sing along
Lest I class you as the Trekkie who hates the Klingon
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
I?m a non?conformist; but we all look the same
I?m a comedian and yet I sound so lame
If we test a death trap; don?t wait up for MacGyver
Oh shit, look out, it?s a woman driver
I wear a leather jacket but I don?t sound like the Fonz
Yes, I?m homosexual but I don?t listen to Elton John
I?m an Irish, but I don?t like the taste of beer
I?m a Communist but I don?t like to share
Yeah, that?s right I?m a starving Hypoglycaemic
Also I?m a vampire who likes the anaemic
I want to be a maths teacher but I?m fun
I?m a raw steak but I?ve been grilled well done
I?m good at remembering? shit I?ve forgotten
And I?m black but I like to pick cotton
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
I can think what I want, it?s a democracy
Wait right there, go ahead, turn on your TV
That?s right; I got this shit through all that bureaucracy
Don?t blame the censors; it?s my fault
You let an Asian run wild and this is the result
You tried to make him rap about the flip?side of an issue
Like an asexual who just wants to go and kiss you
But I apologise if I offended anyone there on the shelf
I?m a rapper saying sorry, a contradiction in itself
But as you can see, I don?t think I?m the bomb
I?m a Vodafone warrior; supporting Telecom
Just think of me as your friendly old pagan
Or a Republican Ronald Reagan
I could be a Mormon who doesn?t go knocking door to door
Or a kid who doesn?t want to go into a candy store
Look the message here that I want to relay
Is that just because he watches DS9 that doesn?t make him gay
And that you shouldn?t judge a man on the colour of the skin
It doesn?t matter if they play the flute or the violin
You gotta accept people for who they are, no matter what you think
Or else I?ll come to your door and bash you, you stupid Chink
Yes that?s right it?s hip?hop?crisy
A song I wrote for a sketch, needs chords-
if you were some milk, I?d be a cookie
if you were a nerd, I?d dress up as a wookie
if you were a drunken gambler, I?d be your bookie
you?re stuck in a broken car, I?ll be your MacGyver
you are the sonic in my sonic screwdriver
if you were to say Hitler, I would say Heil
you?re an eight?year?old girl; I?m a paedophile
I?m a thirteen?year?old kid; you?re a DVD of Girls Gone Wild
every time I see you I need a cold shower
if I were Super Mario I?d like to take your flower
If you were Tim Allen, I?d be your neighbor
without you I?m like a Jedi without a light?saber
without you I?m 18th century America without slave labor
if you were a chav, then I?m Vodafone
I bet you?re a dog and I?ll give you a bone
if I was Ross I?d want you to be Rachel
in internet terminology? I want to give you a facial
anywhere else, you?re the prettiest girl in a brothel
I?m an Indian and I think you?re a cow
I?m John Conner; you?re Summer Glau
I know in my heart I will love you forever
I?m Rose Tyler; you?re a man dressed in leather
if I were a gay then you?d be Andrew Lloyd Webber
if you were Wallace, I would be Gromit
if you wanted anorexia, I would want you to vomit
our love is like a falling comet?
Friday, July 16, 2010
Paratethys: A Sialon Story
Lockwood sat at his post on the lip of the Anilos Volcano like so many had done before him. It wasn’t a tall volcano and it hadn’t erupted in over a thousand years. A lush, deciduous forest had grown on the base and at the crater was a layer of magma which puffed away silently as if it were some ancient but powerful being waiting inside. Lockwood had never ventured far from the volcano- it had been decided long before he was born that he be the one to wait. Wait for what? Lockwood could never quite tell.
His clothes had been brought to him by villagers. So too had food, books, and ‘female company’ but Lockwood had worked it out long ago. He was like a parrot in a mine; he was the warning to the rest of the village. The moment he croaked it would be time for them to pick up and leave. He had resigned himself to his situation though; it wasn’t likely that the volcano would erupt in his own lifetime. So he waited at the cliffhanger, waiting ever so patiently, thirty years he had spent waiting.
Then one day, people stopped arriving. No one came to bring him clothes or food or books of ‘female company’. Lockwood was alone on the mouth of the devil with nothing. One hundred days finally passed before he had a visitor. He was reading Roald Dahl for about the millionth time in the hot sun when he saw the figure approach. This figure was dressed rather raggedly. Lockwood had always been supplied very smart clothes for reasons unknown, to give the demons a good impression? His figure however was dressed in a thin shirt, large denim trousers held up by suspenders, a pair of buccaneer boots and a grey woolen overcoat.
“Hello?” Lockwood put the paperback into his jacket pocket, “are you lost?”
“That was so going to be my question” the man’s accent was American. Now that he was closer Lockwood could make out the man’s face. His hair was long and straggly, his skin was rough like tanned leather and his chin was surrounded by unruly stubble. Lockwood took the clues and assumed he’d be one of the jumpers- he wasn’t the first to have jumped into the mouth of the volcano.
“I’m Lockwood”
“Is that your first or last name?” the man scratched the back of his greasy hair, “it’s a nice name nonetheless. I’m Professor Orwell, nice to meet you”
“What do you want?” Lockwood said bluntly, “not another seismologist, for God’s sake, I’ve talked to a hundred seismologists, literally”
“I’m not that fortunate” Orwell took a little green glass orb from his pocket and rolled it around his hands, “I’m not that fortunate though I wish I were”
“Are you another one of those Occult people? I have explicitly told the villagers-”
“Ah, then you’re going to have a bit of a problem complaining to them”
“Why?”
Orwell pushed passed him and made his way uphill, “they’re all dead”
“What?”
“They were all found dead forty-two days ago. All of them, men, women, children, cats, dogs, horses, the lot. Nothing lives down in that village”
“What did they die of?” Lockwood grew cold.
“At five o’clock, forty-two days ago, they all stopped breathing; all four-hundred of them just stopped breathing”
“They asphyxiated?”
“I wish they had. Something just stopped them remembering how to breathe; something got into their minds and just wiped everything from it on how to breathe”
Lockwood shook his head, “what could have done it?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out” said Orwell as he buttoned up his coat, “things might start to get very cold up here”
“We’re sitting on top of a volcano”
“Is that your shack down there?” Orwell nodded to the little cottage built centuries ago, mended by the villagers for the post, “anything valuable to you?”
“I don’t keep any money or-”
“But is there anything valuable to you?”
“My ring. It was my grandfather’s or so the villagers claimed”
“Is that it?”
“Yes”
“Go get it now” Orwell ordered. Lockwood felt compelled to accept the orders of this stranger and so went to fetched the gold circle. When he returned Orwell had taken a rock from the ground and tasted it.
“Ah!” Orwell spat, “that’s…”
“Well what do you expect? It’s a rock”
“No, there’s something else” Orwell grimaced and took a worn notebook from his pocket, “let’s see now”
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh just… seeing the sites” Orwell blew off, “you know”
“I may have been here all my life but I’m no simpleton”
Orwell put on an apologetic face, “no. Sorry about that. In all your life has anything ever happened at this volcano? Anything the volcano’s done? A tremor, anything?”
“Actually no but that’s not too weird for a volcano”
“It’s not just a volcano” Orwell closed his book, “it’s a prison”
“What?” Lockwood didn’t take too lightly to jokers and even though Orwell had said it in all seriousness, Lockwood felt like the man was taunting him, “what do you mean?”
“A demon, a death cloud, maybe a devil”
“You say ‘Devil’ like there’s more than one”
“I did, didn’t I?” Orwell patted Lockwood’s arm, “you better get out of here. Things might get very dangerous”
“We’re on top of a volcano”
“Do you have the patience to hear an old story?” Orwell asked politely.
“I’ve heard a thousand old stories, I’d be surprised if I couldn’t hear one thousand and one”
Orwell took a sheet of paper from his breast pocket, “this is an old story but I think you’ll find it enjoyable nonetheless. Here we go…”
“Once upon a time there was a fiend or a sprite of chaos or a punishing whisper; something of great pain. A terrifying, utterly terrifying thing. One day it would just hide under your bed and wait for you to go to sleep. That’s what It does; it comes for you to use your repression, your rage, everything you hold dear, everything that makes you not you. It hid well but in time, it devoured half the planet and then everyone recognized what It was and It made them mad.
There was nothing anyone could do about It because It could be anyone, anything and It knew when anyone would even think about hurting It. It feeds on the panic; It is nourished by whatever’s hiding in the Dark. No one could fight It because they didn’t know how It worked.
Then one day, something fell from the dark side of the Moon and he was praised as the Magician who might defeat It. The Magician tricked It, he tricked It into hiding in him and threw himself into a place where It couldn’t escape. He threw himself into a volcano where no matter how much It screamed there was no one to hear. Once that happened, they forgot. Everyone forgot about It and the Magician who had tried to be a Hero and ended up a Martyr.
So every man, woman and child forgot It ever existed but It was not friendless”
“It’s a nice story”
“It’s not just a story- it’s Paratethys” Orwell looked into Lockwood’s eyes with a dead stare, “one of Sialon’s Brigade”
“So whatever this thing is, you think he’s escaping?”
“Paratethys isn’t a corporeal being- bits of him squeeze through the cracks, your whole village wasn’t enough to feed him though, they all lacked… well, the cynicism to keep him healthy or even to keep it from starving. It went through each and every one of those life forms in less than a second and he died of malnourishment”
“So it’s over?”
“That’s just a tiny-tiny bit- a pilot fish. The rest is still in the volcano, waiting for the right time”
“Is this thing immortal?”
“As long as there’s life on this planet; there will be those like him”
“So what did you come here to do?”
“I came here to release it” Orwell breathed in the sulpher, “I’m going to take away the bars of the prison. Paratethys can use me to rip open a crack in the volcano. All those suicides, all those people who fell in were feeding the prisoner. I should be enough to revive him”
“Why would you do that?”
“A demon we know how to fight is better than one we don’t- when I unlock Paratethys he’ll go back to Sialon. People will remember Paratethys and if he is remembered he can be fought”
“All those years ago-”
“They didn’t know what we know now” Orwell dangled himself over the crater and let the hot air envelope him, “and if we have a chance of beating Sialon, I need to throw myself into this volcano. Better it calls the attention of those who know what to do rather than wait for Sialon himself to find this”
“I’m sorry”
“I’m not- if I die; it might mean the end for all of this” Orwell teetered over the edge.
“One question” Lockwood couldn’t help himself, “is any of this real or was that just a fairy tale?”
“Sounded like one, didn’t it?” Orwell tipped himself in. There was no scream, just the gushing of lava around a man. Lockwood was frozen in thought until he felt the ground beneath his feet rumble. He ran. Something in his genes, all those race memories, told him to run and he did. He dashed until his legs hurt and he was at a reasonably safe distance. He looked at how the volcano began to belch dark smoke; it almost looked like a demon. Alone, friendless, he lamented to himself aloud:
“So it begins”
His clothes had been brought to him by villagers. So too had food, books, and ‘female company’ but Lockwood had worked it out long ago. He was like a parrot in a mine; he was the warning to the rest of the village. The moment he croaked it would be time for them to pick up and leave. He had resigned himself to his situation though; it wasn’t likely that the volcano would erupt in his own lifetime. So he waited at the cliffhanger, waiting ever so patiently, thirty years he had spent waiting.
Then one day, people stopped arriving. No one came to bring him clothes or food or books of ‘female company’. Lockwood was alone on the mouth of the devil with nothing. One hundred days finally passed before he had a visitor. He was reading Roald Dahl for about the millionth time in the hot sun when he saw the figure approach. This figure was dressed rather raggedly. Lockwood had always been supplied very smart clothes for reasons unknown, to give the demons a good impression? His figure however was dressed in a thin shirt, large denim trousers held up by suspenders, a pair of buccaneer boots and a grey woolen overcoat.
“Hello?” Lockwood put the paperback into his jacket pocket, “are you lost?”
“That was so going to be my question” the man’s accent was American. Now that he was closer Lockwood could make out the man’s face. His hair was long and straggly, his skin was rough like tanned leather and his chin was surrounded by unruly stubble. Lockwood took the clues and assumed he’d be one of the jumpers- he wasn’t the first to have jumped into the mouth of the volcano.
“I’m Lockwood”
“Is that your first or last name?” the man scratched the back of his greasy hair, “it’s a nice name nonetheless. I’m Professor Orwell, nice to meet you”
“What do you want?” Lockwood said bluntly, “not another seismologist, for God’s sake, I’ve talked to a hundred seismologists, literally”
“I’m not that fortunate” Orwell took a little green glass orb from his pocket and rolled it around his hands, “I’m not that fortunate though I wish I were”
“Are you another one of those Occult people? I have explicitly told the villagers-”
“Ah, then you’re going to have a bit of a problem complaining to them”
“Why?”
Orwell pushed passed him and made his way uphill, “they’re all dead”
“What?”
“They were all found dead forty-two days ago. All of them, men, women, children, cats, dogs, horses, the lot. Nothing lives down in that village”
“What did they die of?” Lockwood grew cold.
“At five o’clock, forty-two days ago, they all stopped breathing; all four-hundred of them just stopped breathing”
“They asphyxiated?”
“I wish they had. Something just stopped them remembering how to breathe; something got into their minds and just wiped everything from it on how to breathe”
Lockwood shook his head, “what could have done it?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out” said Orwell as he buttoned up his coat, “things might start to get very cold up here”
“We’re sitting on top of a volcano”
“Is that your shack down there?” Orwell nodded to the little cottage built centuries ago, mended by the villagers for the post, “anything valuable to you?”
“I don’t keep any money or-”
“But is there anything valuable to you?”
“My ring. It was my grandfather’s or so the villagers claimed”
“Is that it?”
“Yes”
“Go get it now” Orwell ordered. Lockwood felt compelled to accept the orders of this stranger and so went to fetched the gold circle. When he returned Orwell had taken a rock from the ground and tasted it.
“Ah!” Orwell spat, “that’s…”
“Well what do you expect? It’s a rock”
“No, there’s something else” Orwell grimaced and took a worn notebook from his pocket, “let’s see now”
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh just… seeing the sites” Orwell blew off, “you know”
“I may have been here all my life but I’m no simpleton”
Orwell put on an apologetic face, “no. Sorry about that. In all your life has anything ever happened at this volcano? Anything the volcano’s done? A tremor, anything?”
“Actually no but that’s not too weird for a volcano”
“It’s not just a volcano” Orwell closed his book, “it’s a prison”
“What?” Lockwood didn’t take too lightly to jokers and even though Orwell had said it in all seriousness, Lockwood felt like the man was taunting him, “what do you mean?”
“A demon, a death cloud, maybe a devil”
“You say ‘Devil’ like there’s more than one”
“I did, didn’t I?” Orwell patted Lockwood’s arm, “you better get out of here. Things might get very dangerous”
“We’re on top of a volcano”
“Do you have the patience to hear an old story?” Orwell asked politely.
“I’ve heard a thousand old stories, I’d be surprised if I couldn’t hear one thousand and one”
Orwell took a sheet of paper from his breast pocket, “this is an old story but I think you’ll find it enjoyable nonetheless. Here we go…”
“Once upon a time there was a fiend or a sprite of chaos or a punishing whisper; something of great pain. A terrifying, utterly terrifying thing. One day it would just hide under your bed and wait for you to go to sleep. That’s what It does; it comes for you to use your repression, your rage, everything you hold dear, everything that makes you not you. It hid well but in time, it devoured half the planet and then everyone recognized what It was and It made them mad.
There was nothing anyone could do about It because It could be anyone, anything and It knew when anyone would even think about hurting It. It feeds on the panic; It is nourished by whatever’s hiding in the Dark. No one could fight It because they didn’t know how It worked.
Then one day, something fell from the dark side of the Moon and he was praised as the Magician who might defeat It. The Magician tricked It, he tricked It into hiding in him and threw himself into a place where It couldn’t escape. He threw himself into a volcano where no matter how much It screamed there was no one to hear. Once that happened, they forgot. Everyone forgot about It and the Magician who had tried to be a Hero and ended up a Martyr.
So every man, woman and child forgot It ever existed but It was not friendless”
“It’s a nice story”
“It’s not just a story- it’s Paratethys” Orwell looked into Lockwood’s eyes with a dead stare, “one of Sialon’s Brigade”
“So whatever this thing is, you think he’s escaping?”
“Paratethys isn’t a corporeal being- bits of him squeeze through the cracks, your whole village wasn’t enough to feed him though, they all lacked… well, the cynicism to keep him healthy or even to keep it from starving. It went through each and every one of those life forms in less than a second and he died of malnourishment”
“So it’s over?”
“That’s just a tiny-tiny bit- a pilot fish. The rest is still in the volcano, waiting for the right time”
“Is this thing immortal?”
“As long as there’s life on this planet; there will be those like him”
“So what did you come here to do?”
“I came here to release it” Orwell breathed in the sulpher, “I’m going to take away the bars of the prison. Paratethys can use me to rip open a crack in the volcano. All those suicides, all those people who fell in were feeding the prisoner. I should be enough to revive him”
“Why would you do that?”
“A demon we know how to fight is better than one we don’t- when I unlock Paratethys he’ll go back to Sialon. People will remember Paratethys and if he is remembered he can be fought”
“All those years ago-”
“They didn’t know what we know now” Orwell dangled himself over the crater and let the hot air envelope him, “and if we have a chance of beating Sialon, I need to throw myself into this volcano. Better it calls the attention of those who know what to do rather than wait for Sialon himself to find this”
“I’m sorry”
“I’m not- if I die; it might mean the end for all of this” Orwell teetered over the edge.
“One question” Lockwood couldn’t help himself, “is any of this real or was that just a fairy tale?”
“Sounded like one, didn’t it?” Orwell tipped himself in. There was no scream, just the gushing of lava around a man. Lockwood was frozen in thought until he felt the ground beneath his feet rumble. He ran. Something in his genes, all those race memories, told him to run and he did. He dashed until his legs hurt and he was at a reasonably safe distance. He looked at how the volcano began to belch dark smoke; it almost looked like a demon. Alone, friendless, he lamented to himself aloud:
“So it begins”
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