3A: Never Tell Me The Odds

"I laugh, I joke, I tease. The lives we all lead are pretty ridiculous at the end of the day. Mine has been no different, and I am well aware of that. There's an irony then, when I criticise someone else for theirs, isn't there? But it's in the doubt that one can prove their mettle. Lycana once questioned me on it. She doubted the veracity of some of my story, pointed out some areas where it didn't make sense, and tried to treat that as if she had me dead to rights as a result. But I didn't need to refute any of it. She, like so many others, tried to slap me down for trying to control the narrative or something stupid like that. To that, all I needed to say was 'yes'. All I needed to say was 'thank you'. All I needed to do was remind her, just like I'm reminding you all right now, that this is just a story after all. Through these tales, I share with you the way that I see the world. It's your choice what you do with it from there. You don't have to believe it. But me? I have to live it.

More than that… I have to survive it."


~~~



I creep through the darkness like a thief in the night. A part of me worries that description was too apt. Was that what I was here for? Common larceny?

Maybe.

If it came to that.

So far, Operation C.O.N.F.I.D.E.N.C.E., as the North Korean War Criminal had dubbed it, was going as well as it could. Lance had done a great job following the NK's design on the uniform (C: Costume) and it was crisply pressed before I donned it. All I needed to do was keep it that way to avoid arousing suspicion.

I had slipped across the border from China a few hours ago, stepping foot in North Korean territory just north of Hyesan, in the remote province of Ryanggag in the country's north. It was a desolate place, barren and decrepit beyond what I had expected. Making my entry just as the sun went down, I had tried to use the dimming light to my advantage, slinking through the shadows and doing what I could to avoid any sign of civilisation. Factories around the edge of the city rose above the overgrowth like monuments to rust, but even though they appeared abandoned, I still kept to the safety of the treeline to the north. I was fortunate, in a sense. In this part of the country, there weren't even many rice paddies that I needed to navigate my way across. That made the process a lot easier. Taller vegetation and less people made for a greater opportunity for stealth.

In the distance, the sun's final gasp of the day had wrapped itself around the peak of Mount Paektu, only a short ways north of here. There was an irony in a sacred volcano being the last thing that I saw tonight when I'm going to be forced to fight on one in just a few days. If I make it that far. I thanked my stars that I don't have to scale a mountain tonight. Either way, it would have been a cold, damp forest I had to fight my way through. At least the ground where I was comparatively flat.

Still, the proximity to Paektu posed some concern. Its peak is revered in South Korea, let alone the North, and that meant that being anywhere near it still signalled a greater chance of people being around. I can't imagine the sight of a shaggy, blonde-haired Wookie trudging through the woods would go over well. I guess that’s where I need to fall back on the costume, and the backstory (O: Occupation). As far as anyone else is concerned, I'm a double-agent, and I can't be afraid of getting caught. I'm well aware of what fear leads to…

So far, so good on that front. The push forward had gone undisturbed. Perhaps a product of it being Labour Day (N: National Holiday). When Lance had first told me (alongside Mark Flynn and NK) that the holiday was coming up, I just thought 'how convenient'. It wasn't until I was en route to China, rifling through the paperwork (F: Fake Travel Papers) NK had prepared for me, that I thought about how unfamiliar the idea of a national holiday being on a Sunday was. Just another thing that I needed to be careful about today, in order to not give myself away.

A twig snaps in the dark.

My head snaps to where I think it came from and I hope beyond hope that NK's plan holds true.

I stand as still as I can, as in front of me, the shadows shift.

'What is that?' I wonder.

It's not human.

Some sort of beast?

The bleat gives it away, and with that knowledge, the shape takes form.

A deer.

I relax a little. Giving the creature space, it trots off into the unknown, and not long after, I do the same.

If my face wasn't already flushed from the hours of exertion to get me to this point, my ears would probably be reddening now. Sure I had practised what I was going to say (I: Insist You Are North Korean) if an incident like that had gone the other way, and sure I had practised what I was going to say when whomever found me inevitably questioned (D: Deny All Proof Otherwise) me further, but I would still rather not go there if I didn't have to. At least I was by myself. That would make the story a lot easier to sell, let alone the actual traversal through the trees. It would be so much more difficult if Lance had come along like he had wanted to. The bush was getting thicker the further that I clambered through it, and the roots jutting out of the earth were getting more and more gnarly. If the poor guy didn't smack his head on the branch I now duck under, he'd likely smack it on the rock my foot finds a hold in, after he trips and falls. He's not exactly graceful. With every step I take, I just grow more and more glad he didn't cross the border (E: Enter) with me. He'll be safer this way.

So will I, if I can keep this up (N: Not Draw Attention To Yourself). Maps of North Korea are pretty hard to come by, but the intel Centurion was able to gather gave me my bearings - aided by a small, metal compass that Lance had given me. He had said it was a family heirloom of his, which was equal parts endearing and awkward to hear. It did make me feel a bit like a pirate to use it though. Whether ocean, forest, or asteroid field, I felt confident that it would help me navigate my way out of anything.


It certainly had helped so far. After arcing around the city, about an hour ago, I had hit Osich'ŏn Station. It was a pretty major milestone on the trek: the end of an old, 'out-of-service', non-electrified line that Andy's contacts - whoever they were - had detected was still getting some use. From there, it was supposedly a straight shot east. There was a beaten track around here somewhere that vehicles had been seen going up-and-down, but the directional cue seemed easier to follow. And less likely to encounter people. It was tough going, but it was worth it.

To find Her (C: Complete Mission).

Paritegi.

The Daughter of ALIAS.

And save the fucking world (E: Exit).

A twig breaks.

Another deer trots through the brush.
.
I push forward.

A twig breaks.

Yet another dee–

That's no deer.

A bright light shines in my eye. A red dot appears on my chest.

I know what it means.

I've been made.

"Hello there," I say, forgetting NK’s plan completely.

Fuck.

I have a bad feeling about this.

---

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3B: I Know. Somehow I've Always Known.

"Is it a cop-out on my front? Am I making one rule for everyone else, and yet another for me? And then, to top it all off, am I having the audacity to accuse someone else of doing the same? Maybe. But you've got to look at the whole picture. You've got to ask yourself if I've been consistent about all of this from the outset. Or better yet, consistently inconsistent. Heh… I suppose it doesn't help when I do shit like that, does it? Laugh. Joke. Tease. Play the fool. I've oft felt at war with those different parts of myself. But I've made my fucking choice. I know which basket my eggs are in. It's the reason I get up in the morning. The reason I do what I do. Do I 'need' this win more? I always fucking do. Because I have no choice but to listen.

To the call of the stars."


~~~




"Follow my voice."


"You are so near, my dear. Follow."


"Don't let go."


"Why can't I hear you?"


"You just need to breathe."

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“HYUUUGH!”

With a desperate gasp I roar to life. The Universe forces oxygen down my throat and my lungs scratch and claw at my insides, trying to capture any and all of it. They feed upon whatever morsels fall into their ravenous Sarlacc Pit, and my heart begins to thud its celestial beat.

"Follow my voice."

I hear it calling me again. It's so… visceral. Every phoneme seems to hang heavy, as if it weren’t even speech itself but some other force trapped in the Earth’s orbit. It drifts on waves unseen, rising and falling at the same time, with boundaries against reality that seem to change on some intergalactic tide.

“Are you with me?”

“Y-yes,” I manage, struggling to my feet. The forest has given way to cold concrete, but the dark remains. My eyes take some time to adjust, but even afterwards the results are less than desirable. In the midst of the black, the outlines of any shadows are hard to find. If there was a bright centre of the universe, I felt like I was on the planet that it’s farthest from.

“Take my hand.”

Groping through the dark, my hands pat against the rough walls. I find gaps between slabs of what I assume are bricks where the mortar seems to be crumbling away, but I can do nothing to dislodge the masonry. My one ungloved, unscarred hand feels a dampness upon the walls that I do my best to try and follow. I find a small trickle of water coming down from up high, and trace it up into the heavens above. A sign of life! A new hope!

It goes beyond my reach, and I’m left fumbling through the depths once more.

“Follow.”

“I’m fucking trying!” I complain.

I hear it!

I feel it!

It’s calling me!

I’m trying to answer the fucking call!

“Where am I?” I ask, not expecting a response.

I don’t know if I get one or not, but my search yields results nonetheless. I find a door handle. Its cold steel takes me by surprise, and I yank my hand back on instinct alone. The ethereal winds of existence gust behind me once more, and urge my hand back to the handle. Tapping along the wall once more, I locate it, grasp it, and turn.





Bright lights and dancing, joyful bells overcome me.


As if the glow were the moon and I were the planet, it bends around me. Swirling. Circling, Tumbling. My uniform's boots clop against a puke-green linoleum, scuffed with black and stained with colours from across the spectrum. This seems… familiar.

“Follow my voice.”

There it is again!

With the light to guide the way, I spin around to find my bearings. A cluster of square, plastic tables, coloured in a sterile white and with matching, flimsy chairs dominates one side of the room. A nearby television - on old box on wheels straight out of the 70s - flickers on repeat. Relentless 2020. Sarah Lacklan spearing Charlie Nickles through the ropes and into a flaming table.

I’ve seen this before. Not just the event, but the repetition too.

My head darts to the other side of the room, and just as expected, a life-size casting of Christ on the cross dominates the wall space. The bulk of the statue is a typical stone-grey that barely registers as a colour. But through hands, feet, and around the temple, a crimson paint looks as wet as the day it was first painted.


"Hey, buddy!"

The voice calls.

No! A different voice!

I turn back to the direction the television is in, but the sight of it is completely obstructed by two figures. One tall, one short; one lean; one rotund; one shaved, one unkempt. Two opposites, even down to the volume of their speech (one loud; one essentially silent), united by just two things.

"Bobby!" I exclaim, looking at one, surprised to see him. I switch over to the other. "And Bobby!"

The Bobby Brothers, Bobby Book and Bobby Boot, sharing a first name and a father. A ridiculous proposition from a more ridiculous time.

“Keep it down, will ya?” Book says. He glances over my shoulder and I follow his eyes towards two white doors on the other side of the room, next to the crucifix. A body hurries past the windows in the top half of the wooden panels, and disappears off down the corridor that exists on the other side.

“What are you guys doing here?” I ask. I know exactly where I am. This is the hospital in which I spent a decade.

This is where I became me.

No!

I burned this motherfucker to the ground last year!

I seized what they had tried to take from me!

I GOT MY FUCKING NAME BACK!


This doesn’t exist.

I’m not here.

“Where the fuck am I?” I shout, eyes widening. This has to be some sort of trick! Some sort of hallucination! I’m not back in the hospital. I know that! Last I remember I was battling my way through the bush, on a mission to save the fucking world.


I was in North Korea!

I am in North Korea!

The Bobby Brothers side-eye one another, wondering what the hell I’m talking about.

“The same place we were yesterday, dick,” Book says. “And the day before that, and the day before that, and the day before that. Oh! And the day before that too!”

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no!” I repeat. I start back-pedalling, turning on my heels mid-step and preparing to bolt for the door.

“Hey, buddy!” another voice says.

Where did that come from?

I look down.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

A mangled face grins at me, attached to the shrivelled frame of an old man. His skin is tarred and cracked, and lips peeled right back to expose his gums. He’s practically a corpse! A burned husk of a man. Who would do that? Who would–

“Wally…?” I whisper, realising exactly what I’m looking at.

Ol’ Wacky Wally. The Bobby Brothers and I’s fellow patient inmate here at the hospital.

And I’m the one who mangled his face.

“That wasn’t my choice!” I scream into his face. It’s true! It was years ago now, and there was a literal gun to my head! What was I supposed to do?!

“What wasn’t?” Wally asks from beyond his charred face.

“Follow my voice.”

I shove him to the side.

I’m going to find out what the hell is going on here.

Bursting through the door behind him, I fall out into the corridor and hit the ground with a SPLAT. The lights above flicker. Of course they fucking do.

In a frantic scramble, I find my way to my feet, and take off down the corridor. Before me, it seems like it stretches forever. Neverending. And though the doors I just broke through from the hospital common room appear to fall away, the space in the corridor behind me never seems to increase. It’s like I’m running in place forever.

But I don’t give up. I won’t ever give up!

Never!


Never!

Nev–

“Hey, buddy,” Corey Smith asks, from where he leans against the wall.

“Corey…” I stammer, stopping in my tracks. But my friend doesn’t reply. Before my eyes, his throat opens and blood begins to billow out onto the ground. His body crumples into a heap, and I fall to the ground next to him. I rip at the stupid fucking military unifrom I wear, tearing shreds of fabric off to find something that could help stop the flow of blood. Pressing whatever shred of cloth I could gather against Corey’s throat, I find that it’s not enough. His eyelids remain open, but the light behind them has died.

I don’t even have time to recover, before The Universe moves on.

“Hey, buddy.” I know the voice, even if the phrase isn’t one that he would ever utter. My head remains drooped over Corey’s corpse.

“Hey, NK,” I reply, solemnly trying to gulp down the lump in my throat. I know what’s about to come.

Accepting, I turn to face him.

Just in time to see the North Korean War Criminal get eaten.

By what, I don’t even care.

I will myself to my feet.

I. Don’t. Stop.

His remains are scattered across the ground, and I step over what looks like it was once a hand. Determined, I march onwards, past all of the death and destruction. Centurion, dead. Ruby, dead. Mark Flynn, dead. Louis D’Ville, Vinnie Lane, Theo Pryce, Gator, Morbid Angel… all of them, dead. Just like in the future that I saw.

Left.

I march.

Left.


Left.


“Follow my voice.”

“Give it a rest. I’m fucking following it, all right?” I say aloud.


Right.

The Universe beckons.

And I answer its call.

It’s what I do.

“Hey, buddy.”

What’s another voice, eh?

The figure steps out from a doorway that isn’t even there. A small child, with something in its hands.

~

“Where were you?” asks little Frankie Duke. Tears well in his eyes as his arm raises, strained from the weight he carries. In his hand, the hair of his father intertwines around his fingers.

It’s Thaddeus Duke’s head.

Blood drips from its severed neck.

“I didn’t do that,” I say for the thousandth time.

~

But I did.

I will.

When I turn to the dark side. I’ll become the Emperor, and end the fucking world. If I don’t stop myself, that is.

“I didn’t do that,” I repeat, and I mean it. I didn’t do it. Not yet. And I won’t. That’s not what this is about. Not exactly, anyway.

I brush past Frankie and his dead daddy. At the back of the hallway that remains just a few feet behind me, despite how far I’ve travelled, the bodies pile up towards the ceiling, beyond just those named. But there’s only one direction for me to go.

Forward.



“Follow my voice.”


The Universe wraps me in its blinding light one more time.

“I am still calling you.”

I am still answering.

---

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3C: Aren't You A Little Short For A Stormtrooper?

“Every time we do this - any of us, not just you and I - it becomes a battle of who wants it more. Whose drive, whose fucking meaning will give them a edge. You don’t have to justify yourself to me, and that’s fair. It’s a damn cop-out with how often you use it, but it’s still technically true. Short of betraying our friends… heh… none of us really have any obligation to explain ourselves to each other. But we do, right? We try to drum up interest, and get into each other’s heads. And if you can’t explain yourself… well, you’re kind of fucked on that front, aren’t you? But that’s why I do all this. That’s why I explain to you what I’m trying to accomplish here. I can’t quieten its call. Believe the stories or consider them fables, that’s your call. But The Universe wills me on.

And every time, both it, and I deliver.”


~~~



The corridor remains. Not that of a sterile hospital, but darker and, if you can believe it, even colder. Grey, textureless concrete creates a foreboding, claustrophobic space. I’m at the end, staring at a windowless door trimmed with black and silver metal. It looks heavy, but for whatever reason, I know that I won’t have to force it.

I think… I think I’m exactly where I need to be.

With my gloved right hand I lightly tap on the hatch, not even bothering with the large wheel affixed to the front of it. Under my gentle pressure, it eases open. The hinges groan and I step through. There, on a single bed shoved against the opposite wall, she lifts her head.

The girl.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I say with a smile. She looks me up and down, no doubt studying the now ripped and torn fatigues, and stifles a giggle from behind a hand plugged to her mouth. I grow uneasy, worried we could be caught at any minute. I… I don’t even know how I got here, let alone the kind of opposition that we might face on our escape.

“What took you so long?” she asks. I can’t help but smile. Her voice is the same as it ever was - articulate beyond her years.

“Maybe you’d like it back in your cell, Your Highness.” It’s a joke, but as the words come out of my mouth, I recall her name in the future I saw and think that ‘Your Highness’ seems rather fitting. She is The North Korean War Queen after all. And the first part of that name makes even more sense given where we are.


“No!” Paritegi shouts, springing to her feet. She bolts past me, stepping on my toes as she goes, and emerges from her cell into the corridor outside. I follow after.

“Was it… was it that bad?” I ask, joining her in her freedom. She doesn’t say anything, opting instead just to nod. I don’t push her any further. It’s twisted, but a part of me is glad. She may only be a child, but I know she’s telling the truth. It reaffirms to me that what I’m doing is the right thing. For her. For me. For The Universe.

I pull Lance’s family compass from Hammerspace where I had stored it, and let it determine the next steps. Sure we’re inside now, but it’s the only tool I have available and I trust in what I can do with minimal resources.

“Where did you dig up that old fossil?” the girl asks.

“It’s… a friend’s,” I reply, almost forgetting that she wouldn’t know Lance yet. The dial in the middle of the compass swings to and fro, eventually finding north. I figure that if east got me here - wherever ‘here’ is - surely west would be the way out. It’s the last part of Operation C.O.N.F.I.D.E.N.C.E. The exit.

Following the compass’s lead, west seems to point us down the corridor to where a green sign hangs from the ceiling with exactly those words.

EXIT

In English.

“I’m sure that wasn’t there before…” I mumble. Taking the girl by the hand, I head off in that direction anyway. As we move in a straight line down it, the corridor behaves exactly like a corridor should. A sentence I never thought that I would think. We move with caution, but make it all the way to the end to where wide glass doors seem to lead directly to the cold night outside. That’s a strange combination of ideas. It’s still night outside, that makes sense. But why would the corridor from within the cell complex lead directly outside? Where’s the security?

“Don’t go,” I say to the girl. “It’s a trap!”

I’m too late. I don’t know for how long she was kept locked up here for, but the prospect of being outside overcomes her. She races for the door, and out into the fresh air.

I have no choice but to go with her. I haven’t come all this way to go back empty-handed.

And I was right.

Just as I had encountered in the middle of the woods, the barrel of an assault rifle met me alongside the chill of the night sky. More than one, in fact. Spread out in a semicircle around the entrance way, a whole troop of forces clad head-to-toe in black (as opposed to the North Korean uniform that I wear) point their guns at the girl and I. I clench my fists. Mark Flynn told me not to die, but in this moment, that’s a promise I’m not quite sure I can keep.

Still, I’m nothing if not the kind of guy who will go into battle against a whole army by myself.


But then… the rows of men part.

Standing in the space between where the figurative Red Sea once was, are two figures.

The girl’s grandmother, whom I had passed custody over to.

And the doctor.

My doctor. My ‘Angel’.

From the hospital.

“You’re dead!” I accuse. She should be. When the hospital set ablaze, this fucking bitch went with it. Her and her ilk were responsible for everything that ever happened to me! They took me from whatever life I could have had and locked me away! Just like…

I look down at the girl.

She was going to get the same treatment.

And I was the one that handed her over.

“You’re not getting her!” I defy. I sweep the girl into place behind me.

“This is some rescue,” she remarks, but I don’t engage. I’m in for the fight of my life.

The Angel-Doctor raises her hand.

With it, a swirling vortex of every colour opens before her. I’ve seen this before. It’s a portal, just like the one that had been the passageway to Otherworld.

Did the doctor just do this? Surely not! The only power that evil cunt ever had was that which she held over me. And that ship has long sailed!

The girl slips out from behind me. Her tiny feet pound the ground as she makes a break for the portal.

“NO!” I shout, as if I were just told D’Ville was my father. Standing on the precipice, the girl looks back to me and smiles.

‘Thank you,’ she mouths. Winking one of her tiny eyes, she holds Lance’s compass in her hands for me to see. Just before she crosses over.

The portal snaps shut.

She’s gone.

Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck! She’s gone!

I look around.

At least she’s not with them. The armed guards. And the enemy.

But, it’s pretty clear to me that the compass led me in the wrong directi– the compass! The girl took it! But if that’s the case, what’s this still in my hand?

I look down, just as I hear a safety flick off.

It’s a small stone. One I’ve seen before.


The stone is a shade somewhere between blue and violet, but inexplicably glowing with black. Just like the Universal Championship now does. This is it! The way out! The Corey Smith of Otherworld gave me a stone just like this, which allowed me to cross over.

“Follow my voice.”

I can hear The Universe calling.

I close my eyes, and through sheer force of will, I finish Operation C.O.N.F.I.D.E.N.C.E.

I exit.

---

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3D: That Is Why You Fail

“I like the line you’re spinning, Thad. How I’m ‘not the best at anything’. It’s cute. And I mean… yeah, I’m not the fastest. Nor am I the strongest. I’m not the most ‘technically proficient’ or whatever other code people want to use for having long, close battles with better fighters than themselves that they often wind up on the losing end of. Shit, I’ve ridiculed many a moron by now for trying to box me into the category of ‘wrestler’, and you’re right to avoid that. I’ve been willing to die on my sword to call myself a ‘fighter’ instead. But you say I’m not ‘the best’ at that too. And I… I think you’re right. I’m not going to be a contrarian for the sake of being a contrarian here. Nobody taught me how to throw fists; I just started throwing them. Nobody taught me how to get my fucking hands up; I just took the goddamn hits. I wasn’t trained to box, to strike, to grapple. I’m not very cerebral about this whole thing. I just move in a straight line and bulldoze whatever’s in the way. But to say that there’s nothing I’m ‘the best’ at? C’mon, man, think about exactly what it is that you’ve followed up each of those remarks with.

I’m the guy more likely to punch a hole through a fucking mountain than I am to stay down.

I get up.

I. Keep. Getting. Up.

And you’re not denying that. I’m a survivor. But Thad… that? That’s what I do better than anybody else.

So what do you do? What are you the best at? Being a ‘heat seeker’?

Cause… that fucking matters when the blood starts flowing, amirite?

I hate to break it to you, bud, but Atara Themis still exists. And more than you, more than Page, more than Matt fucking Knox who defnitely has you beat on that front too - don’t take that as me saying he could beat you, B-T-Dubs, fuck that ho - Atty gets attention more than anyone. Which leaves you with… what, exactly? Go on, Thaddy, my boy, dig something out of that that Mary Sue bag of tricks that you’re so goddamn proficient in after being only like twenty-three eight fucking years old, and tell me what you’re the best at.

Jesus… you were born in December 2013…

Frankie was born before you!

What the fuck?!?!?!?!?!

I’m sure you’ll come up with something. You’ve got enough hidden talents that you’re inexplicably ‘good’ at Disney could make a shitty sequel series about you. Wait…

You ARE the shitty sequel!”






“HA!

Couldn’t resist the Star Wars joke given the circumstances and all. But it’s okay, the first version was shit ‘cause your Dad’s a cunt, doesn’t deserve to be in the Hall of Legends, you’re so much more deserving, yadda, yadda, yadda. Did I sum it up pretty well? Let’s see…”

Quote:”Many may even still today question my motives for doing such a thing like trying to erase him from the Hall of Legends, but let’s face the fact that my father, in his prime and in his heyday really wasn’t all that good despite all the gold and despite his win loss record.

He shouldn’t be in the Hall of Legends.

And it SHOULD be available for me to one day grace that hall…”

“I know I’m supposed to be the crazy one, but it can’t just be me who sees that as absolute goddamn evidence that it was your own selfish, self-centred, self-obsessed, self-fellating reasons that drove you to try and take your daddy’s legacy away from him? Like… you fucking said it, man! And yeah, yeah, yeah, I cut it off rather than letting you finish the thought, but the rest of it doesn’t really add any extra context. I’d rather spend that time asking you how you’re gonna stand there and tell me to do my homework about your motives there when you said that shit just a fucking week ago! That was you, acting like an entitled cunt, again. And what, I got that wrong did I? Nah, miss me with that. It’s exactly the bullshit that I said it was.

The best you can hope for is to explain this away as just another ‘misspeak’?

OR!

No ‘buts’!

You could always acknowledge that you deliberately argued against a point I wasn’t even making because yet again, it helps you to paint yourself to be someone that you’re not.

How about you go back and make sure you knew what I was saying, my guy? ‘Cause I’m actually not debating the merits of whether Sebas’ belongs in the Hall or not.

Though if we’re talking about booting people out, can we have a conversation about Default?

Nor, Thad, am I debating the merits of whether you belong there, or will. This whole spiel is just like how that Mary Sue shit I’m slinging is poking fun at all the things you’re pretty good at, but not actually disputing those facts. Instead, I’m just here doing ALIAS things, bud and giving you a good ol’ look at yourself. I’m pointing out that you have so much going for you, by typical eight-year old standards, but you show the emotional maturity about it all of a… well, a fucking eight-year old about it all.

Goddamn, I kind of feel bad for expecting more out of you, after realising you’re just a fucking child. It was some sort of super-duper space magic or science or bullshit that was responsible for your ageing up, right?

How’s that for fucking homework?

Well all right, then. After everything that I’ve experienced through my story, I’d say stranger things have happened. But if it means you now get to act as daddy for a kid older than you, we’ll use the same damn thing as the rationale for why I still think you should be better than you are too. You want to play grown up? Act the fucking part.

See, a ‘grown up’ version of Thad ‘could’ beat me. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. But this motherfucker? This ain’t that Thad. This is a Thad who says that a fight isn’t even important to him, and that is why I’m going to put you down. It’s like, no shit this is important to me, dickweed! Every fight is! It’s how I fucking survive! And the fact that you’re acknowledging that it’s more important to me than to you, tells me everything I need to know. You’re doing what you always do, Thad. You’re giving yourself an ‘out’.”

”I dOn’T eVeN cArE! hAw, HaW, hAw!”

“Sorry. I missed that one last time. Glad I had time to drop it in here, though. Because Bitches and Gentlefucks, this is The Thaddeus Duke Show!

Where he doesn’t even have the stones to try his hardest.”

”Oh I’m JuSt ThAt GoOd EvErY dAy!”

“Nah. You’re good, but not that good.

Because in case you missed it…

I’m ALIAS.

And as corny as it sounds… I’m the best at what I do.

Meanwhile, you’re the kind of guy who STILL says he was named Star of the Year, even after having it very clearly explained to him how full of shit he is.

YOU WERE NEVER NAMED STAR OF THE YEAR YOU LYING ASS, BAG OF BITCH!

Don’t let the crassness there oversell my feelings. This isn’t like I’m overselling a win in a fucking battle royale compared to a one-on-one fight.

It’s icky, but I do enjoy how I flipped that one on ya.

Really, I was just hoping that by screaming from the top of my mountaintop like that, it’d actually pierce its way through that thick noggin of yours. Because you’re the kind of guy who chooses to selectively listen to the things that make him feel better about himself, rather than the truth.

I get that you want new mountains to climb, but you’re the kind of guy who never ONCE tried to get back to the mountaintop here after Chris Page cut your time at the top there short. Been there, done that, right? It’s so boring proving you’re actually the best, isn’t it? Fucking idiot…

But hey, this is how we’re rounding out the ‘trilogy’. I started spending a bit more time on the events related to High Stakes, moved on through to spending a bit more time talking about War Games and its fallout, and now? Now we’re in the here and now. Thaddeus Duke, finally going up against ALIAS, less than a month before the young Lionheart’s contract expires. And I… well, I’m not going to rail on you for that. You clarified what you weren’t clear about, and that’s it. End of chapter. The way I see it, by doing that, you grew, Thad. As a person. Congratu-fucking-lations. You acted the age you’re supposed to be. That’s a perfect example of why I’ve been on your back and on your mind - again, no denial and no cop-out on your end there, I can respect that - since I crawled out of my fucking hidey hole. Because you could be that guy.

But you’re not.

It’s too little, too late, and this? This is already fucking over. All of it. Not just the match, but you and me in general. Because you’ve already given up, and everyone can fucking see it. As it turns out, even when you put your fatigues on, you’re just waiting for death to come.

Now, it’s not that I don’t enjoy seeing you curl up in a ball and letting me piss all over you like this, but as far as I’m concerned, you’ve already proven my point before we even get to tussle. ALIAS fought Thaddeus Duke, and Thaddeus Duke couldn’t even muster the fortitude to fight back. I’m not talking about the pedantic, he said-she said shit that we all find ourselves getting into. I’m talking about giving you the opportunity to prove to the world that you are who you think you are. To prove it to the Duke Nation! And yeah… to prove it to your wife and kids too. And you’re choosing not to.”

”I dOn’T hAvE tO eXpLaIn MySeLf To YoU!”

“I said you’d put that sentiment out there, didn’t I? Nailed it!

And no, Thad. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. But you now have to live with saying, in a public fucking forum, that you just don’t care enough anymore. You fucking said it, Thad! And I’m just doing what I said I’d do from the outset: Holding up that mirror for you.
So come on, baby, beat your chest. Tell yourself that it doesn’t matter. Convince yourself that you’re okay with phoning it in being the Duke Legacy.

I don’t care.

See what I did there?

It’s true though, I don’t. The ALIAS-Thad issue is over before we even touch. Because on Wednesday, I couldn’t Eat Thaddeus Duke if I wanted to.

He’s already fucking eaten.”

---

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3E: Sequel Trilogy



“Lance!” I call, entering the cabin through the fireplace. I had expected to see him here waiting for me, but instead, the nexus of the world is as empty as it ever was. It feels strange to think that the Lance-sized vacancy feels like an even bigger hole than the Minotaur-sized one I used to feel in this space but at this moment, it’s the truth.

I move towards the windows that provide vision into the budding communities cropping up around the globe as part of the movement. With the day that I’ve had, three screens is a bit too much to take in, so I focus on the one central window and start flicking through vision after vision of the cities-within-cities.

Not in Tokyo.

Not in Brooklyn.

Not in D.C.

One-by-one I go through them all, until every possible location has been viewed. It’s weird that I can’t find him, but maybe he’s just popped out elsewhere for a while. Uncharacteristic, sure, but not out of the realms of possibility. That pretty much opens up the entire world though, and I’m not about to stalk every street under the sun for him. He’ll turn up. He always does.

Besides, bed beckons. I may not have the girl, but I know where she is:

Otherworld.

That is not a comforting thought by any stretch of the imagination, but the plan from here is easy. She gave me the stone, and now, I just need to use it.

I need to return to Otherworld.

But for once, time is actually not of the essence. Forty years from now will still be forty years from now. I can sleep first.

I travel through the labyrinth of shelves and furniture on my way to the dishevelled bed tucked away in the corner. Just as I’m about to collapse into it, I see…





~~~


When is a broken coffee mug more than just a broken coffee mug?

When it’s a harbinger of the end.


~~~