| 6: There Are Those Who Call Me... Tim The landscape was weird. Angelique found herself on a bed, rocking back and forth as if on a ship. She saw herself, clothed in nothing but a necklace. Across her small room, a man with long brown locks and piercing hazel eyes studied her form, to commit it to a canvas on an easel. "Just a little longer," the man said. "I've almost got you down. Pose for just... a little... longer." "I'm getting tired of posing," she realized. "How about I come over there and-" "Please, Angelique." The stranger knew her name. Now that she looked at his face more closely, it looked familiar. "No, I'm sick of this," she announced as she got up. But as she went to stand up, she realized that she was in chains. "Or how about... you stay there," the artist reiterated. "No point struggling." The familiar man moved towards her, as if to reposition her, and then he grabbed the back of her neck and started kissing her full on the lips. However, his attention was taken when a giant of a man busted down the door, armed with a baseball bat. "Leave Angel alone," he growled. Not only did the artist do so, but he seemed to recognize him. "You... you will be my voice," declared the artist with more than a hint of realization. "You will be my voice." And the big, bear-chested man stepped forward and kissed Angel. And then she woke up. *** The loud noise of techno drowned out the usual screams and cries coming from Dive. A pale man with dark sunglasses sat in the corner, his eyes near the door as he silently sipped his whiskey. He was the first to see the big man come in. "What the hell is this?" cried the tall stranger. "Where's the barkeep?" The pale man got up, carefully and measuredly, and strode to the door. "We killed him. We run this place now. Surely you've heard of Nosferatu and the Bombers?" "No sh1t? Sounds like some two-cent 50's band. Well, I kinda own the deed to this place so you and your little Boy Scout gangster pals can clear on out." Nos nodded in understanding. "So you are Timotheus. Well, we'd clear out except for one slight problem... we can take you." Tim shrugged. "So that's how it is, then?" Just then, a rabbit hopped in and bared itself in front of Tim. "Might I suggest backing off and doing as the kind proprietor of this establishment decrees?" the rabbit offered. Nos looked down and his jaw dropped. "This has to be magic... you're working for the Corruptor!" As he said that, the Bombers fell to the ground. "The Corruptor?" asked Timotheus. "Did you just come from out of town?!" demanded Nos. "The talk for the last few days has been the Corruptor! He's the reason that the skies pour blood... that Lady Protector Vanana declared martial law. The ba5tard stared down a legion of mages without blinking, and only barely did they take him alive. He's the baddest as$ in town and all the gangs in the sector want to break him out of Earthbound." "What's his name?" "Some say that he is the Ancient Evil incarnated. Others say he is the prophet of the nextworld's God come back to life. But I-I believe that he is St. Chronos of Augusta!" "St. Chronos... CAESE! I don't believe it..." "You know the Corruptor?" asked Nosferatu. "Know him? Hell, boy, we fought in Pendinmortica and Proiectica! We're old war buddies!" "Rabbit! You are the scion of the Corruptor?" "Most veritably!" affirmed the rabbit, his nose twitching. "My name is Virgil, and my master told me to give the owner of the bar this little box." Out of his paws the rabbit produced a metal box. Tim grabbed it, and opened it up. As he did, it unfolded and started blinking while an antenna extended heavenward. "What the...?" "I do believe that it is a magically-enhanced television broadcasting device, able to overpower local frequencies all the way out to the border with Pendinmortica," informed the rabbit pedantically. "Chronos told me that with it, you can speak the truth to Columnia and inspire a revolution." Timotheus of the Ander-Brethed nodded in appreciation. *** At 4:30 PM, on the Columnian Broadcasting Channel, the popular afterschool cartoon "Storm Streeteam" drew in approximately half a million young viewers. Approved by the Public Enlightenment and Virtue Committee for children of all ages, it was a gripping action cartoon set in a bleak future where Columnia had been overrun by the Ancient Evil. A lone patriot, codenamed Storm Streeteam, valiantly crusaded against the evil forces that raped and pillaged his city. Today, Storm Streeteam had been captured by his evil nemesis, the black-clad Christien de Goethe and his accomplices, the Punques du Croix. He was hanging upside-down in a rather heroic fashion, and the nefarious de Goethe stood gloating over him, smoking his ever-present clove cigarette and stroking his voluminous beard. "So vhe meet again, Storm Streeteam," he noted. "Such a worthy adversary. Tell me, vhat vhas zhe grand idea, trying to infiltrate my secret mountain hideout?" "We both know full well that you're developing the dread Magic Fireball Bomb," offered Streeteam. "You're trying to destroy Columnia, and somebody had to stop you." "Yes, zhe Fireball Bomb!" shouted de Goethe in excitement. "Vith it, I vhill be able to wipe out zhe disgusting Four-worsh-" "I ARE OWN," cut in a voice as the picture went to static. "And there are those that call me... Tim. You're broadcasting lies on this network, so I took this network... and then I humped it. Or something. "You kiddies like cartoons? Well then, check THIS out." On the screen, little pieces of cardboard in the vague shape of people came onscreen. One had long brown hair and black clothes. "Yeah, so like I'm Chronos the Corruptor and stuff. Watch me flame you and totally beat down the Four and junk. Yeah, kids, I own and basically everything I say is awesome. They should make statues of me and crap. But, even though I'm all pseudo-egotistical and all, I'm a servant of the Ancient Evil... or what's been called the Ancient Evil by the Lady Protector and the Four. The Ancient Evil is really the god of the afterlife... and he's all good and junk so you should like follow him and all and not give a care what the government thinks." After that spiel, a guy with a badge slapped handcuffs on him. "Heh heh HEH-I'm Lieutenant Eterniu. My name wuz GONNA be Eternal, but my mom wuz kinda drunk when she had me and she didn't feel like hitting the backspace when she filled out the birth certificate. Yeah, I interrogate the almighty Chronos, but really I'm just a twat with no clue about what to say or do. Honestly, I pretty much suck and Vanana's gonna put a bullet in my head one day when I piss her off enough. So yeah, kids, I'm basically a manwhor3 with a billyclub who gets off by lording it over people." After that, this guy with vampire fangs bit his neck, uncuffed Chronos and gave a thumbs-up. "Vlah! I'm Nosferatu, leader of the Bombers. Yeah, we pretty much think that the current leadership sucks and that Chronos is awesome, so we're gonna kick your government pig arses from here to Earth and back and we're gonna do it with the help of all the other gangs because we hate you. So screw off and die." "Hey, my name is Chic diMagenta. I haven't really done much yet, but I'm the leader of the Paranormal Squadron and I had fun beating down Chronos in an unfair fight. Yes, I KNOW that normally I couldn't find my own arse with a compass, a map and a hired guide. I KNOW that I got lucky... when I beat Chronos, not when I fooled around with a girl. No, my love life is actually rather pathetic, and not from lack of try-er, um, I'M AWESOME! CHIC RULES THE LADIES! YEAH!" Then, everyone moved out of the way and a cardboard Alice was shown chained behind them. "Hey, I'm Alice. This sure as HELL isn't Wonderland, but THAT'S OKAY... I'm looking for my dad, or at least I was. I'm from Earth, so Chronos can use me as a magic source for his spells, and that means that we can pretty much own you. But I lost this rabbit... he's named Virgil, and he's cute and brown and fluffy and he talks all British and stuff, so yeah, if you see him, feed him a carrot and tell him to come back here. Please?" "And this successfully concludes the first part of the exciting "Chronicles of Cut-Out Cardboard Guys With Filty Mouths"... and stuff. Join me next time, or you're a teeniebopper and I'll kill your mom, yo. Or something. Later." It went back to Storm Streeteam, who was running from the evil laboratory of Christien de Goethe, chuckling as it exploded and as the camera went to a shot of de Goethe and his Punques screaming badly-accented curses at him. The children's mouths dropped all across Columnia, and nobody could sit still in school the next day as everyone talked about the odd show yesterday and how cool Chronos and Alice and Nosferatu were. And Tim, definitely Tim. Everyone in class that day kept repeating the phrase "I ARE OWN" like a mantra, between random Tim-inspired obscenities. *** "Dakishimetai no ni," ended Chronos, talking into his little radio. After that, he hid it under his mattress and he smiled at Alice, who had been released from her chains on good behavior. She was fast asleep on her own mattress, though, and didn't see him. "Good night, Alice." He then, despite the day's bruises, managed to get to sleep. |