Rollerskater: Reunion
Jump to: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII
This instalment contains some scenes of bloody violence and a depiction of animal cruelty.
The Chariot of Fire made landfall not long after dawn, and Dolly woke with a start. She yawned, stretching. Fenwick, Ella Faux and her two bandmates also woke up, groggily. The front of the boat was empty.
Dolly popped the hatch and climbed out of the boat, seeing for the first time what the outside looked like.
Chelsea Rose was sitting on the sand.
“Chelsea?” Dolly asked. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s back,” Chelsea said. “I felt something. He’s close by.”
“How close by?” Dolly said, looking around them. “Where are we, anyway?”
“Just off the coast of Hampshire,” Chelsea said. “Close to Winchester – the capital of England. In this universe, at least.”
“Winchester has always been the capital of England,” Fenwick said, struggling to extricate himself from the boat.
“Oh good, he’s up,” Chelsea said.
“Christ,” Fenwick said, toppling out of the boat, rolling and crashing to the ground. He stood up, dusting himself off. “Can you explain to me, young lady, why we weren’t stopped by immigration officials?”
“The Chariot of Fire turns up on radar as whatever will keep the coastguard at bay. As far as they’re aware, this is a licensed and documented fishing vessel.”
“You know, I’m still not quite used to this magic business,” Fenwick said. “Are you joking, or are you serious?”
“I’m serious,” Chelsea said. “There’s a lot you don’t understand, old man.”
“Old?!” Fenwick exclaimed. “I’m fifty-four!”
“I’m twenty-five,” Chelsea replied, deadpan. “You’re old.”
Fenwick turned to Dolly. “Is she always this rude?”
“I’m afraid so,” Dolly replied, with a small smile.
The Bow of Burning Gold came flying from the hatch, landing on the soft sand, and the three band members pulled themselves out of the boat.
“How did you sleep?” Dolly asked.
“Terribly,” Ollie said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Couldn’t you have turned the van into a yacht or a cruise ship or something?”
“Yes, we would have definitely been able to leave the New Amsterdam Harbour in a cruise ship, you’re right,” Chelsea said, sarcastically.
Ella picked up the Bow, dusting it off.
“So, do we know where this bloke is?” she said, inspecting it for damage.
“No,” Chelsea said. “But someone here does.”
“Who?” Ella said.
Chelsea stood, squinting slightly.
“Her,” she said.
She was pointing at Dolly.
“Me?” Dolly said. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve got the Spear. The Spear can find anything. Anyone.”
“Right,” Dolly said. “So what do I ask it?”
“Ask it for the location for one Cosimo Chesterton, alias The Grey Man.”
Dolly nodded, summoning the Spear from the centre of her chest. “Where is Cosimo Chesterton?” she asked, adding: “Also known as The Grey Man.”
The Spear remained stationary.
“Well?” Chelsea said.
“Nothing,” Dolly said. “It can’t find him.”
There was a long pause.
“Shit,” Chelsea said. “Fuck.”
“Chelsea?”
“Of course,” Chelsea said, biting her index finger. “He doesn’t technically exist in this world, does he? No bloody fingerprint…no scent.”
“Alright, so now what?” Ella said. “Chelsea, don’t tell me you brought us all the way here for nothing.”
“I’m working on it,” Chelsea said, rubbing her temples contemplatively.
“Fuck sake,” Ollie grunted. “All that equipment for nothing…”
“Shut the fuck up,” Chelsea replied, not even turning to look at him.
Fenwick scratched his chin.
“Er, excuse me,” he said.
“Not now, old man,” Chelsea said, muttering: “Fuck…fuck…fuck…”
“No, I really think…”
“Not now,” Chelsea replied.
Fenwick took a deep breath in and stood as tall as he could despite his relatively diminutive height, puffing his chest out.
“No, you listen to me, young woman,” he said. “I distinctly recall you saying that you thought that the Chessman might be one and the same with this Chesterton fellow. Even the name has something of a resemblance. You’re pacing up and down this beach in a panic when you can’t even see the obvious fact that is right in-bloody-front of you. Now, I may be a withered old man, but I dare say you’re, if you will pardon my saying, missing the boat for the water.”
He folded his arms, rather proud of himself for standing up to her.
Chelsea turned her head in the direction of Fenwick’s voice, and walked over to him.
She stood about a head taller than him. She placed her hands on his shoulders.
Fenwick’s forehead broke out in beads of sweat.
“Thank you, Arthur,” she said. “Dolly, ask the Spear where the Chessman is.”
Dolly did so. She turned, following the vibrations to where they pointed, then raised a finger, pointing into the middle distance.
“That way,” she said.
“That’s northeast,” Fenwick said, taking into account the sun’s position in the sky.
“What’s northeast of here?” Lewis asked, looking quite pale and wobbly-legged after a night in a rocking boat.
“Most of bloody England,” Chelsea said, thinking for a moment. “But I think we can narrow it down. In any case…”
She placed her hand against the Chariot of Fire and it transformed into a small six-seater propeller plane.
The others looked at it despairingly, then back at Chelsea.
“Chelsea,” Dolly said, calmly. “Do you mean to say we could have just flown here?”
Chelsea clearly could not see the expressions on the faces of the others, but she could feel her anger. She cleared her throat.
“I, er, there’s a reason for that,” she said.
“I’d love to hear it,” Ollie said.
“Well, you see…the truth is…” Her voice dropped low and she murmured: “fraidoflyin.”
“What?” Ella said, angrily.
Chelsea cleared her throat again. “I’m afraid of flying, alright?”
“You have a magical weapon – an indestructible magical weapon – that can take the form of any vehicle and you’re afraid of flying?” Fenwick cried, in disbelief.
Chelsea shrugged, grinning.
“I guess we’ll wing it.”
*
They had followed the river for some time, then veered northeast on to a country road, which, as it turned out, was one of the main roads for drivers accessing the national park, and they had found a sign that denoted where they were in England.
Harri-Bec studied it carefully.
“It’s as I thought,” she said, sadly. “London doesn’t exist in this universe.”
Socks looked it over. “Looks like there’s a city northeast of here. A, whatd’ja call it. Conurbation.” He pointed. “Celmersford-Camelot.”
“That’s close to where you went to university, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. Something tells me the university doesn’t exist in this world. But that’s where he’s hiding.”
“Really?” Harri-Bec said. “How can you tell?”
“I felt it,” Socks said. “Not long after we got here. Guess he woke up around the same time.”
“So we ride northeast,” Harri-Bec said.
They followed the country road, not entirely sure of where they were going. As long as the Sun was behind them, they knew, they were heading east, but it was mostly guesswork.
Neither Socks’s horse nor Harri-Bec’s Timothy got tired, owing to the strangeness of their respective natures. The horse seemed to enjoy eating the grass, but it never excreted it. Socks became aware for the first time that what he was riding was probably not a horse at all, but something taking the form of a horse so as to be less distressing.
“What are we going to do when we find him?” Harri-Bec asked, after quite some time of riding in silence. The initial jubilation of making it back had disappeared now, and the stark reality ahead of them had set in.
“I haven’t worked that out yet,” Socks said. “As far as I know we’re the only ones left.”
Harri-Bec was silent for a few moments. “We’re probably going to die, aren’t we?”
“I’d rather die trying to stop evil than die doing nothing.”
Harri-Bec smiled slightly.
“Well, I’m with you all the way.”
The sun dropped low in the sky, and ahead of them in the distance, they could see it: A sprawling cityscape, which in the previous universe had been mostly rural fields.
“There,” Socks said. “He must be hiding somewhere in or around that city…”
“I wonder what the transport network is like,” Harri-Bec said. “Maybe I can find a place to fit…”
She looked unsure of herself. “I miss London,” she said.
They rode closer.
Their shadows had now elongated in front of them, and the sky became a gorgeous watercolour of golds, pinks and oranges, as well as deep purplish blues.
“Night’s on its way,” Socks said. “We should hurry.”
They continued apace.
After some time had passed, they came upon a saloon car parked across the road, blocking any movement. On either side of the road were tall hedges, and beyond those, muddy fields.
They walked cautiously up to the car, examining it.
The driver seemed to be sitting in the front right-hand seat, which was nearmost to them. The car’s bonnet faced the south, which was on their right.
Socks looked at Harri-Bec, and she looked at him.
“Check on him,” Harri-Bec said.
Socks dismounted his horse, silently approaching the car.
He tapped on the window.
The driver did not respond.
He tapped again.
No response.
He had a very bad feeling about this.
He put his hand on the door handle and pulled it open.
The driver fell out of the car. Socks could see that there was dried blood encrusting a wound in his back.
“It’s a trap!” he shouted.
The back door of the car suddenly burst open and someone was grabbing him by the throat, and he went flying to the ground.
The horse kicked and whinnied, trying to bolt for the field.
“How right you are,” the assailant said, holding a long, thin sword to his neck.
“Socks!” Harri-Bec shouted.
“Chr…Chroma?!” Socks exclaimed, in disbelief.
Chroma looked at him with pursed lips, feigning sympathy for his plight.
“What’s the matter, Socks? Did you think you had killed me?”
She tightened her grip around his throat, lifting him into the air, off his feet.
Socks grabbed at the arm holding him. He realised that it was the same arm that he had destroyed with his fist. She had replaced it with a mechanical prosthetic.
“No, you didn’t kill me,” Chroma said. “However, you did destroy my favourite arm. But it’s all right. Fourteen billion years of practice gave me plenty of time to become proficient with my left.”
“Hey, I lost my arm too,” Socks said, holding up the residual limb of his left forearm, struggling against it. “I guess we’re twinsies.”
“I really should break your neck for what you did to me,” Chroma said, tightening her grip. “But I want to make sure you suffer, first.”
“Let him go!” Harri-Bec shouted.
“Oh!” Chroma said, turning to her. “It seems you brought a friend, too. Why, aren’t you that girl who called herself the Spirit of London Transport? Except there is no London in this world, is there? You’re just another normal, here.” She smiled. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”
She threw Socks over the hedge effortlessly, and he went sailing through the air, crashing into the muddy field next to the road, then, without breaking stride, turned to Harri-Bec, running at her and firing taser prods at her.
Timothy reared up, roaring: “Skree-a-a-a-a-a-aaargh!”
Harri-Bec dismounted in time to see the creature take the brunt of the shock, protecting his mistress. He screeched in pain and fear, convulsing in agony.
Chroma ejected the cartridge from her hand, laughing.
“Stupid creature,” she said, manifesting another one and inserting it into the slot.
Harri-Bec looked at Timothy laying on the ground, breathing shallow breaths, then up at Chroma.
“What’s the matter?” Chroma said. “Did I hurt your little pet rat, you stupid girl? You should have laid down and died with the rest of your filthy univ-HNNNGGKK—”
Chroma did not register for a few seconds what had happened to her.
It became blindingly apparent, however, after the initial shock, that Harri-Bec had indeed delivered a very hard, Doctor-Martens-brand kick to her abdomen, and now an uppercut was very steadily making its way to her jaw, meeting it quite spectacularly.
Chroma’s lower lip resembled a faucet.
She staggered backwards, her left hand trying to stem the bleeding.
“Bitch…” she hissed, like a wounded cat. “You little bitch…”
“Nobody hurts Timothy on my watch,” Harri-Bec said, darkly. “Nobody.”
Chroma manifested the rapier in her hand.
“Then die,” she said, charging at her.
“I don’t think so!” came a voice from behind the hedge.
Chroma turned to look just in time to see Socks’s horse leap the fence, charge at her and knock her through the hedge and into the next field.
Harri-Bec ran to Timothy’s side.
“Coo,” he called, painfully.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We’ll get you some help soon.”
“Coo,” came the reply, as though reassured.
Harri-Bec followed the hole Socks had made in the hedge into the next field, and searched the scenery for Chroma, and quickly found her.
She was laying, curled in a foetal ball, on the dirt, gasping in pain, as Socks rode around her.
“Don’t…come…any…closer,” she gasped. “I’m warning you…you’ve broken my nose, my ribs, one of my hips has locked up and I can’t feel my left arm…don’t come any closer.”
“Socks,” Harri-Bec said. “She’s seriously hurt. Leave her be and let’s go.”
“No,” Socks said. “She’s done this before. She pretends to be injured and lures you into a trap. I won’t fall for it again.”
“Please…” Chroma said. “I’m seriously injured. I can barely move. I won’t hurt you.”
“Socks,” Harri-Bec repeated. “I think she’s telling the truth.”
Socks looked at Harri-Bec and back at Chroma, and, despite his better judgement, eased off. He dismounted the horse, approaching her cautiously. He crouched down next to her prone body.
“He’s still alive, isn’t he?” he asked her.
“Who?” she said, weakly.
“The man you’re working for. The man who destroyed my left arm. Chesterton.”
“Oh yes…quite alive. Lost his memory for a bit. His plans went a bit…wrong. But it’s alright…he has everything under control.”
“Where is he hiding, Chroma?” Socks asked. “We need to finish this.”
Chroma looked at him. Her eyes had that same desperate look of sadness he had seen when he had killed her, long ago, in the old universe.
“In the water tower,” she said. “It’s exactly where it was before. A fixed point in space and time. The centre of the universe, more or less. He…is expecting you. He asked me to kill you. But I suppose I have failed…”
Socks took pity on her. “It’s alright,” he said. “We’ll get you the help you need.”
Chroma smiled at him. “I’m sure you will,” she said.
Suddenly, she rolled, pointing her right arm straight at Socks, and firing taser prods into his chest. Socks screamed.
“Socks!” Harri-Bec cried.
Chroma laughed, standing over Socks, who was curled up in pain. She fired another surge of electricity into him.
“You stupid little fucker,” she said, venomously. “I manipulated fate such that the strike from that horse would do little more than lightly bruise me. Like someone getting out of a car crash unscathed. I even stopped my split lip bleeding. Did you really think I would just lay down and admit defeat? You fucking idiot.” She drop-kicked him in the stomach. Socks yelled out and groaned.
“Stop!” Harri-Bec shouted, covering her mouth in shock at the revolting violence.
“Be quiet,” Chroma said, manifesting her rapier and pointing it at her, then pointing it at Socks’s neck.
“You…you…” Socks moaned, trying to get the words out through rising bile.
“What?” Chroma said. “Are you going to lecture me on my perfidy? Oh, Socks, Socks, Socks.” She smiled fiendishly. “I’m not in the business of honour. I’m a pragmatist.”
“You…” Socks choked, trying to raise his right hand.
“Now, Stephen Oxford,” Chroma said. “You will die!”
She raised her sword, ready to run him through.
“NO!” Harri-Bec shouted.
“Chroma…” Socks said.
“Save your strength,” she said. “I want to see the light die in those eyes.”
Socks looked up at her.
“Look behind you,” he said, quietly.
Chroma looked down at him, her eyes wide, then turned around.
“Ah—” was all Chroma was able to utter, before a small propeller aeroplane collided with her.
Socks rolled out of the way just in time to hear the sound of something surprisingly hard being very violently shredded, followed by a very loud bang and crash.
Little fragments of jade green fabric fluttered through the air.
Chroma had died for the second and final time.
Socks got up, winded, and ran over to Harri-Bec, who was staring into the middle distance where the plane had come down. He looked with her.
It was shining gold, and appeared miraculously undamaged by the crash, though the same could not be said for the field, the hedges, or, indeed, Chroma.
At the spot where Chroma had been struck, her mechanical arm now lay in the dirt, still clutching her rapier, attached to a series of shattered black crystals that had once been a shoulder. Socks ran over to it, picking it up.
“Damn it, why did I have to destroy her right arm?” he said, turning it over in his hand. He elected to abandon it, instead taking the rapier with him, then he turned to Harri-Bec.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s find out who our saviours are.”
*
They managed to climb out of the vehicle, mostly unharmed by the crash landing.
“Jesus Christ, Chelsea,” Dolly said, dusting herself off.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Chelsea said.
“I think we hit something,” Lewis said, examining the propellers, which were coated in an oily black substance.
“Or someone,” Chelsea replied, morbidly.
Fenwick looked very ill.
“Why did I ever agree to come with you people?” he said, exasperated.
“Hey!” came a voice from behind. “Is everyone alright? Anyone injured?”
“No, we’re alright,” Ella said. “Just a bit shaken up.”
“That’s good,” the man said.
They turned to look, and saw a man with light brown skin, wearing his hair in a curly flat-top.
“Did we hurt someone?” Dolly asked.
“Nobody important,” the man said, glancing at her. He blinked and then took a closer look. “…Dolly? Is that you?”
Dolly looked at him a little bit sadly.
“I’m afraid we’ve…never met,” she said, with a trace of melancholy.
He looked around at the others.
“Daisy…Chelsea,” he said, smiling. “Of course. The plane’s magic.”
“Plane’s magic,” Chelsea replied, with a grin. “That you, Tilburys?”
“You know it is, Chelsea,” Socks said, putting his arm around her.
“Excuse me,” Fenwick said, “But exactly how do you know this man?”
“Long story,” Chelsea said. “I’ll tell you it sometime.”
Then there came another voice, from next to Socks. A woman’s voice.
“I can’t believe it…” she said. “You survived…somehow…you survived.”
Chelsea’s eyes widened and she turned in the direction of the voice.
Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“Harri…?” she said.
“Chelsea?” came the reply.
“Harri…? Is it really you? You’d better not be fucking with me.”
“Chelsea!” Harri said. “It’s me!”
“Oh, Harri!” Chelsea shouted, running at her with arms outstretched.
Harri-Bec ran into them and Chelsea threw her arms around her. She cried softly for a few moments. “I’ve missed you so much, you weird little anorak.”
“And I’ve missed you too,” Harri-Bec said, patting Chelsea’s back softly. “You self-absorbed egoist.”
The others looked on with some puzzlement.
Socks cleared his throat. “Their relationship is…complicated,” he said.
Chelsea pulled away from Harri-Bec, keeping her arm around her shoulder.
“Look at this,” she said. “The gang’s all back together. And also Arthur is here.”
“I beg your pardon?!” Fenwick exclaimed.
“There’s just one thing bothering me,” Dolly said. “How come you three have retained your memories of each other, but the rest of us haven’t?”
“Yeah, that is weird, come to think of it,” Ella said. “Why is that?”
Chelsea’s smiled faded, and she hung her head.
“There must be a reason,” Dolly said. “But you aren’t telling me.”
Chelsea nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “Here’s the truth.”
She scrunched her toes in the bare earth, as if trying to ground herself in the real.
“Your counterparts in the previous universe had completely different lives,” Chelsea said. “Ella was a university student. She went to uni with Socks here. And you, Dolly, never lived in America. You spent most of your life here in England, in fact. In our world, the Soviet Union fell in the early nineties. You were from free, independent Ukraine.”
Dolly was surprised by the revelation. The idea that something as big as the Soviet Union could have fallen was clearly quite incredible to her.
“Alright,” Ella said. “But that doesn’t explain why we lost our memories.”
“You see, the truth is…” Chelsea said, uncertainly. “There was this girl. We all, one way or another, knew her. We were tied to her. And she died. And when she died, the entire universe collapsed around her. It was rebuilt without her ever being a presence. A universe without…”
“…K-Os,” Socks said.
“Yes,” Chelsea said. “A universe that is governed by fate, not by chaotic energy. His universe.” She sighed. “But as to your memories – I think I have an answer for why they were wiped. Your counterparts in the old universe had issues with K-Os. You held anger in your hearts for her. When the time came for your spirits to be reincarnated in the new world, the anger in your hearts removed any memory you might have had of your past lives. I held no anger towards K-Os. Just before the moment the old universe died, I was able to keep my memories intact. I held on to them, and I remembered who I was when I returned in this world. That’s why I remember her and you don’t. It’s not your fault. She was a stone-cold, hard-arsed bitch, and she didn’t like me very much. But that’s the truth.”
“So…” Ella said, trailing off. “We were punished because we were pissed off at someone who, I’m guessing, fucked us over? What bullshit.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Dolly said, thoughtfully. “We…weren’t necessarily punished, were we? After all, it’s no coincidence that all of us were given these weapons. All of us had a connection to this girl, even if we don’t remember her…perhaps this is some way of apologising for the hurt she caused…”
“Yes,” Chelsea said. “I think she was sorry, even if she had no good way of saying it. That’s just like her. It’s not that she was unable to penetrate the anger in your hearts. She left it untouched. She, I suppose, wanted you to forget her. Not so you would be readily able to forgive her, but so she could bring us together again, even across oceans. She wanted to build us again. To make our bonds stronger in her absence. And I reckon she succeeded.”
There was silence. The sun had set by now, and the stars had come out in the night sky.
“This is all very well,” Ollie said. “But we’re still not exactly sure what this weapon we’re meant to be putting together is.”
Chelsea smiled, transforming the Chariot of Fire into a large people-carrier.
“Let’s find out together,” she said.
*
The spectre had not bothered him for quite some time, but still he felt restless. Chroma had not returned. He had not expected her to, in a way. Expendable, like the rest of them, even if she was loyal almost to a fault on her part. It was almost inevitable that he had sent her marching to her death. A pity, but to be expected.
And now they came; under cover of darkness they came – to finally end him, he supposed – to stop him from finalising his goals.
He smiled in the moonlight.
Let them come.
*
They used Dolly’s Spear to find their way to the water tower. It was a moonlit night, as dark as the night the universe ended. Was another universe to die tonight?
“I’m not happy about this,” Fenwick said. “That man is dangerous. I’ve seen him.”
“We have a weapon that will stop him,” Chelsea said, from the driver’s seat. “He’s already dead, as far as we’re concerned.”
“I hope you’re right,” Dolly said, feeling with the spear.
The people carrier was moving down a residential street in some suburb close to a river.
“Take a left here,” she said. “He’s close by now. I can really feel it.”
They went down a side-road. It was a road that Socks knew well.
“This is it,” he said. “This is the place.”
The others turned to look at him.
“How can you be so sure?” Ella said. Socks found that voice coming out of the mouth of a different person uncanny and somewhat unsettling.
“Trust me,” he said.
Chelsea stopped the people-carrier in front of a gate with a stile, and they all got out. She transformed the people-carrier into a pair of shoes – trainers this time.
Socks looked up at the place, daunted.
“It’s weird being back here,” he said.
Chelsea nodded silently.
“Arthur,” she said. “Stay behind. I don’t want to involve you in this.”
“Nonsense,” Fenwick replied. “I’ve come all this way. If I die here, then I die among you.”
“That’s very honourable of you, Arthur. But seriously, stay behind.”
Fenwick defiantly stepped forward and put a leg over the stile, looking back at the others.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“That old man is mad,” Ollie said.
“You said it, Ollie,” Lewis replied.
“I’m not old!” Fenwick protested, beginning to hike up the field.
Each went over the stile and walked over to the tower.
Dolly firmly gripped the Spear.
“It’s vibrating intensely,” she said. “He’s really close.”
“Alright,” Chelsea said. “Me, Dolly, Ella, Ollie and Lewis go in first, then the rest of you follow behind.”
“Hey, I’ve got a weapon, too,” Socks said.
“That’s wonderful,” Chelsea said. “Good for you. Stick behind us.”
“You heard the lady,” Harri-Bec said.
They entered the tower, one-by-one, in the prescribed order. Up the steps. Socks had a horrible feeling of déjà vu. Who could say what awaited them at the top of the tower?
They reached the door at the top.
“On my count,” Chelsea said. “One, two…”
The door came open, seemingly on its own.
“Three,” she said.
There was no open pool in the room this time. Just a wide stone floor. A bed had been set up in the corner of the room next to a window, across from which was a dressing table. There was an aperture in the roof, letting in moonlight. A small dining table was in the centre of the room, on which had been placed two objects: A black king and a white queen, from a chess set.
The room was unnaturally silent. Not even the wind could be heard.
Then, a voice. A voice that sounded unnatural, inhuman, reverberating off of the stone walls.
“So,” it said. “You have finally returned to seek your vengeance.”
In one corner of the room was inky black darkness, shadows, nothing – the light did not penetrate it.
There was the sound of leather soles scraping on stone, and then footsteps, slowly coming towards them.
“There shall be no bombast this time,” the voice said. “No great battle. I shall destroy all of you as easily as I destroyed that beast you called ‘friend’. I may very well have destroyed my own mind in the process of remaking this world anew, but I recognise now where I went wrong. In my hubris, I failed to destroy any who would oppose me. But no more. You shall all die.”
And from the shadows he stepped.
The Bogeyman. The Grey Man. The Chessman. Chesterton. Always Chesterton.
“We aren’t afraid of you,” Socks said. “We never were.”
“Your first and most costly mistake,” Chesterton said, smiling. “How’s the arm, my boy? Still siding with those who would give you eternal, dreamless death, I see. A pity. You would have worked well by my side.”
He walked towards them.
“Don’t come any closer,” Dolly said, the Spear shaking in her hands.
His mere presence was menacing, as though he should not exist. It was like being face-to-face with the Devil himself.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Chesterton said. “Yet. I just want to get a closer look at you all.” His eyes widened momentarily. “Why, it’s none other than Fenwick. My old psychiatrist. What a surprise to see you here. I am sorry to tell you this, sir, but your status as a normal will not save you. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“If what they have told me is true,” Fenwick said, “Then you must be destroyed. And I will help them in any way I can towards that end. As a matter of fact, sir, I already have.”
“Then you are as foolish as the rest of them,” Chesterton said.
He turned to the others, pacing slowly and methodically around them with his hands behind his back.
“Well?” he said. “What are you waiting for? Attack me.”
“Not yet,” Dolly said. “There’s something I want to say to you. Before we destroy you once and for all.”
“Oh, talk, talk, talk. Please, just get this over with.”
“You destroyed my world,” Dolly said. “You tore me away from my friends. You stole my identity from me. And yet, despite all that, I survived. My friends survived. And we found each other. Even after you took everything from us…we found each other. So my question for you is this: What makes you think you will win this time?”
Chesterton stopped in his tracks, silent for a few moments.
He began to laugh, quietly, and it built up into a chuckle, then into a loud, roaring guffaw, and then into a cackle. He applauded sarcastically.
“Spare me the fairy tale nonsense,” he said. “I have foreseen your destiny, you morons. I will destroy all of you. It is predestined to happen. Attack me now, and march forth into your graves, you imbeciles.”
“Is that a bet?” Chelsea said.
“Oh, I’m not a gambling man. I’m more into chess.”
Chelsea smiled.
“Then I think it’s time.”
Chelsea transformed the Chariot of Fire into a small, gold ball, which floated into the air, glowing with a yellowish light.
Dolly took the Spear of Clarity and inserted it into the ball. The ball’s mass increased.
Ella manifested the Bow of Burning Gold, and her bandmates the Arrows of Desire, and they, too, were pushed into the Chariot of Fire, absorbed into the ball, which grew to about a foot in diameter.
Chesterton looked on dispassionately, entirely unenthused.
The ball glowed brighter and brighter, elongating, changing its shape, spinning in the air.
“It’s transforming,” Dolly said.
There was a musical, resonant hum, growing louder and louder, as the combined weapons spun faster and faster.
There was an explosion of light like a supernova. Socks covered his eyes.
The light cleared.
Floating in the air, about a metre off the ground, was a sword.
It glowed gold, seemingly emitting its own light. It hummed musically.
“What is it?” Fenwick asked, staring in amazement at it.
“It’s…a sword,” Ella said.
“The combination of the Bow of Burning Gold, the Arrows of Desire, the Spear of Clarity and the Chariot of Fire,” Chelsea said.
She stepped forward, and the blade moved its handle into her hand.
She held it aloft, showing it to the others.
Etched into the side of the blade were ornate letters, reading:
YOU FEAR THE SWORD AND THE SWORD IS WHAT I BRING AGAINST YOU
“Now, Chesterton,” Chelsea said. “You will die.”
Chesterton simply stood still.
“Very well then,” he said, calmly. “Strike me down.”
There was a long pause.
“You heard him,” Harri-Bec said. “Do it, Chelsea.”
“Wait,” Chelsea said. “He’s bluffing.”
“No,” Chesterton said. “It is just evident that the sword is powerful enough to destroy me. And you’ve clearly put a lot of effort into taking me down. I won’t spoil your fun. Get on with it.”
Chelsea lowered the sword.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing,” Chesterton said. “I applaud you.”
Chelsea raised the sword again, gritting her teeth.
“I don’t even care,” she said. “I just want you dead.”
She rushed at him with the sword.
“Chelsea!” Ella shouted.
Chesterton rolled his eyes.
Chelsea roared, swinging the sword in great slashes.
Chesterton put his arms out—
—Chelsea struck his hands—
CLANGGGGG
Chelsea blinked.
Though she could not see the hideous grin on Chesterton’s face, she could feel it.
“He…” Dolly said, in disbelief.
“He caught it…” Socks said. “How?”
Chesterton laughed.
“How?” he said. “You fools. I brought this universe into being. The Sword is a weapon of ultimate, universal power. Did you really think that you were the worthy wielders of such a weapon? It is useless in your hands! Little more than a butter knife. It is I who is destined to wield this weapon. I, and I alone!”
“No,” Ella said. “That’s impossible…it can’t be…”
“Believe it!” Chesterton bellowed.
He wrenched the sword by its blade from Chelsea’s grip, holding it aloft.
Chelsea fell to her knees in disbelief.
“It is with this weapon that I shall make the world anew!” he shouted. “I shall be the one to stop entropy, destiny is mine to control, and I will finally kill Chaos!”
He grabbed the sword’s hilt, feeling its power in his grip, and laughed again, advancing on Chelsea, who could only stare down at the ground as tears dripped from her eyes.
“Don’t do this,” she said, softly. “Please.”
Chesterton cackled.
“She shall be the first to die,” he said, looking at the others with the grin of a hyena slavering over a carcass. “And then the rest of you.”
He raised the sword.
“Don’t!” Harri-Bec shouted.
Chelsea winced.
He began to bring it down.
There was a sound. A choked moan.
He stopped.
A heavy sigh that could be felt through all nature.
He turned towards the sound, which was coming from somewhere to his left.
“Oh my God,” Fenwick said. “Look! Look! It’s—”
A ghostly figure began to form, clad from head to toe in black clothes, with a featureless face.
“What is it?” Socks asked. “Arthur, what the hell is it?”
“It’s…” Fenwick replied, swallowing. “…the Threnody.”
“What?!” Ella exclaimed.
“BE QUIET!” Chesterton roared.
The shadowy figure stood, silently, watching his movements.
“So,” Chesterton said. “You have come to make me atone for my sins, is that it? You cease haunting me for a while to convince me that I have banished you, then you turn up to torture me again. Yes, I know your game.”
He stepped towards it, taking his attention away from Chelsea.
“Bastard,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Don’t you see? I have the Sword now, Threnody. Everything played out as predicted. Everything is in its right place. I have before me a world that is mine to control. And you think your fear tactics will scare me now? Don’t you get it, you moron? I am your God.”
The Threnody regarded him silently, observing, its body language somehow alien, communicating no emotion whatsoever.
“I have nothing more to say to you,” Chesterton said. “Die.”
The others could only stare on in shock as Chesterton raised the blade, and with a clean swipe, cut into the Threnody, bisecting it diagonally along its torso…
The Threnody did not react.
Chesterton laughed. “That was easy,” he said. “Almost too easy. But now—”
He pulled at the sword.
“Wait,” Chesterton said.
He pulled at it again.
“Wait, no…no…”
The sword was stuck. As though frozen in place.
He pulled more frantically at the sword.
“No,” he said. “No, no, no…”
It was no use.
The Sword did not belong to him.
The Threnody stepped forward, and with its left hand, gripped the hilt and pushed it further into its own body.
“What is it doing?” Dolly asked, amazed.
“Look,” Socks said.
The sword began to melt. It turned into a golden liquid, which spilled like paint across the Threnody’s body. The Threnody continued stepping towards Chesterton, who backed away from it slowly.
“No,” he said. “Stay away…”
The liquid ran down the Threnody’s legs, settling around its feet.
The liquid changed and shifted, forming something solid…
A pair of golden rollerskates.
“No…” Socks said. “There’s no way…”
The Threnody moved forward, raising its arms to the ceiling.
There came a sound. A sort of musical humming or buzzing.
vim vim vim vim vim vim vim
“Look!” Harri-Bec exclaimed.
Tiny cubes seemed to enter the room from nowhere, weaving, intersecting, connecting, as though building some magnificent structure out of bricks of pure marble.
One by one they came, forming first the legs, then the hips, a torso, arms, hands, fingers, a head, a face, ears, eyes, nose, mouth, hair. A body.
She wore a vest top in a diagonal colour-block of pink and blue, a grey skirt, thigh-high socks, and a pair of golden rollerskates.
She wore her lilac hair in a braided ponytail that hung down her back, and her blue eyes possessed a fierce intensity that no human eye could ever possess.
Her face was the same, but different as well, somehow.
“K-Os?” Socks said, his eyes filling with tears.
She turned to look at him.
“The one and only,” K-Os said.
Socks covered his mouth, and the tears came.
Her body had been so cruelly snatched from her, and she had, by some means, made herself a new one…a body that she had, seemingly through willpower alone, brought into being.
To come back from death even after the destruction of an entire universe – this, Socks thought, would be hardly the most awesome thing about K-Os.
She skated forwards, her eyes fixed upon Chesterton, her expression implacable, cold and stern.
“This cannot be,” Chesterton said, his voice a hoarse whisper, falling down and pushing himself away from her on all fours. “Impossible. I killed you. I killed you.”
She looked down at him like she might look down at a cockroach.
“Death is overrated,” K-Os said.
Chesterton refused to believe it.
“But…” he stammered, pathetically. “But…I was going to win…I foresaw it…”
“What you foresaw was blinkered by a rigidly deterministic view of the universe,” K-Os said. “You did not account for the emergence of chaos into the equation.”
“Get away from me,” Chesterton said. “Get back. Get back, I said!”
“No,” K-Os said, firmly. “How do you intend to stop me?”
“Get away!” Chesterton shouted, feebly swinging his fists at her. “Get—”
K-Os placed two fingers on Chesterton’s forehead.
He screamed.
Another place, another time…
This work is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
ARC TWO: ROSE GOLD
I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII