1A: The Book Of ALIAS

“In the beginning… ALIAS went and fucking beat everyone. Then he started a whole new testament and fucking lo… he went a beat everyone all over again. Some of you pathetic bitches he beat twice, even! And let's fucking face it here, team, Charlie Nickles was beat before he ever even stepped foot in that ring at Leap of Faith, let alone any of the other Universes. 'Cause ALIAS did what ALIAS does. He called his shot, made a bloody mockery of the entire shit-talking process - a.k.a. the very thing that Charlie said he was bringing to the tabe…

So much for ‘spitting straight facts’, you absolute goddamn failure of a fighter, father, husband, and human being.

…and then ALIAS went and did the thing. You know the fucking thing!

He WON.

I WON.

A. FUCKING. GAIN.

Because before Charlie could even open that cold sore-ridden trap of his for a second time, ol' Space Jesus had run circles around the fat fuck, just like he promised. And said fat fuck couldn't keep up the chase because… well… he's a fat fuck. See last time for the fun to be had with that.

Did any of you really think that was going to go another way though? Fucking LOL. I said it, dipshits! I said exactly what I was going to do! Why on earth - this one, or any other that I might just —BLINK!— off to - would you not believe me by now? Charlie… why on earth would you not believe me? Of all fucking people? Why wouldn't you understand your position in all of this, bud? I can come out here and literally just fuck around, and STILL make you my bitch. Day in, day out. That's how this fucking goes. I understand we may have some new ‘listeners’ today, so lemme fill in the gaps for any wayward cocksuckers who might’ve missed it:
Fuck you.
Come fight me, you fucking bitches. I’ll eat you like all the rest of ‘em.
I used the most low-brow fucking jabs and jibes I could muster about Charlie without letting my brain devolve into the idiotic sludge that slops around that sumbitch’s skull, and STILL he couldn’t leave a goddamn mark on the champ’s face.

I mean, this motherfucker is the kind of guy who thinks trying to get on me about dredging up ‘ancient history’ like I don’t have the very RECENT history of beating his ass twice this year already to fall back on as well! I’ve got your ass fucking cooked in the past, present, and future, Charlie. Ellen or fucking not. But yeah, I did dig deep into the past. For example:

He had this particularly pathetic persona named ‘Demos’ that couldn’t win a match like he was Charlie Nickles going up against ALIAS - and I shat on him for it.

I also verbally pulled his pants down in front of the entire federation to crown the first Freestyle Champion over a year ago - and I shat on him for it.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Ancient history!

BUT YET…!

This same fucking idiot tried to hold the fact the won a backstage championship from me over my head when that LITERALLY OCCURED BEFORE ANY OF THE THINGS THAT I BROUGHT UP! Fucking, what?

I guess after he failed using that line of attack the first time he squared up to the fucking King-Slayer, he thought he’d throw it out the window and pretend it never happened the second time? Well what’re you gonna throw out that window this time, Chuck?

Hopefully, your fucking self.

Tell ya what, I’ll take the phone back from Lance or Dani or whoever has it at that time and actually tweet myself if you do that. ‘Cause you know you made the line about me tweeting about Lance up, right? This is why you lost, cunt. You have less grasp on reality that you did as Demos, and oh no! I’m crawling back twelve months ago! Again!

Because I fucking can.

Because twelve months ago I became the fucking mountain looming over the entire XWF, and here today, I still fucking am. Cue the mountain climbing lines, like so many others have tried. I’ll cut the fucking rope, just like I did to the rest of them. The more we do this, Chuckleberry, the more the scales tilt. Every time you come to me, you promise something grand. End every single time you fail to live up to your own uninspired hype. But I keep telling you what’s-what, don’t I? I keep telling you how this is going to end, and you just throw up shit like covering your dismal War Games showing by saying ‘a leader goes out on his shield’ or something? Fucking what, redux? First of all, this is some ancient history in it’s own right, you fucking hypocrite. Sure, I brought War Games up, but you brought up the Heavymetalweight Championship which naturally flowed into the Freestyle, yet still you got your shit-stained panties in a bunch about it! Second of all, I wasn’t the team captain at War Games, dipshit! I wasn’t the leader, aaaaaand, I’ve never claimed to be once since. Back then? I was the Ace up the sleeve, instead. The fire in the hole. The goddamn War-Winner. You tried to excuse your failure - you have a lot of those, don’t you? - by saying that a true champion fights in the vanguard? You’re half-right. My team captain told the world that I was the weapon he was coming armed with. I was put to the forefront. A true champion fights in the vanguard, sure.

But they fucking win.

Sorry not sorry, Dolly.

And who’s the champ, Charlie? Who’s still the champ? You’ve tried once, you failed. You’ve tried twice, you failed. What? Third time’s the charm? Of course, that’d be shoving a tuna fin up your own ass - or just my big, girthy cock - given how much big a fucking deal you made about that Heavymetalweight bullshit the first time round. So what the fuck else have you got to bring this time? Do you want to try that line about defending my championship for me, again? ‘Cause if that’s the case, with your history, you’d just be losing it to me again, so what’s the fucking point? Or you’d just be losing it to Mark Flynn or NK. ‘Cause the three of us all have your number like we’re fucking Lou, and you’re… well… YOU. OR, like we’re fucking me and you’re taking the roll of the good ol’ Doctor. Ooh, there’s a fun thing to rehash. You wanna circle back to who I’ve dropped for good? Calling out Betsy Granger and Jim Caedus, like we haven’t already gone back and forth about how THEY WERE LITERALLY FUCKING THERE THE NIGHT WHEN THE MAN CAME BACK A-FUCKING-ROUND AND NEVER AGAIN SINCE? You love excusing all of that, so… if we’re going to ignore people actually showing their physical bodies after you do your pathetic bullshit, then chalk fucking LOUIS D’VILLE to Big Daddy A - A.K.A. another guy who has smacked you around EVERY chance he had. Oof, you sure showed me. Fucking. What? Redux redux.

Know what? Fuck it. You bitched out again thinking you could throw out some half-assed lines without retort from the Bastard-Tamer, so let’s just dredge up some more of your shit. Yep, Peter Vaughn was ducking you. And you were ducking him. I said ‘em both, you selective-hearing afflicted dumbass. I’ve already done the deliberate contradictions routine with you, so I’ll just leave that piece with saying that you’re both fucking bitches but neither of you could duck away from being my bitch.

‘Cause to answer your question, yes, Jim Jimson hits harder than you.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it! The front page that this ‘paperboy’ is tossing out today says CHARLIE NICKLES GETS SMOKED AGAIN.

And really? This is just me skewering him on one of his flailings, because the last one can just be tossed out the fucking window since that future never even happened. And I would know! Master of the fucking Universe and all that! Time-hopping; space-hopping; breaking planets apart like I’m the Dark Phoenix. The Rebecca Romijn version, of course, so that I can get on top of James Marsden. Or John Stamos. Or both.

A reincarnation story way better than whatever the fuck Raion Kido was on about before Leap of Faith.

I’m a celestial fucking firebird!

Burning the cosmos!

Like I’ve done for a long ass time now, Raion.

That’s how I came into all of this. It’s how I became the World-Eater that I am today.


That caught fucking fire.

See, you are built all wrong for this, Rai-Rai. Your little catchphrase there? It’s prime for the fucking eating for a Hungry Hungry Hippo like me. I’m picking up on the metaphor it. They’re uh… they’re kind of my thing. You’re thinking big! The whole damn Universe, even!

MINE!

And to burn it… well that’s that fire inside you, yeah? So basically, you’re Japanese me, with a penchant for selfies and losing to Charlie Nickles instead of beating him.

Except…

The fire that snuffed the flames.

Yeah… you’re gonna have to do a helluva lot of catching up to pick up what I am putting down. ‘Cause there’s one thing that Charlie Nickles got right about me before I chewed him up and spat him out at Leap of Faith: This is all just a performance from me. I’m that far ahead of the fucking pack that a performance is all it needs to be. This is a perfectly crafted masterpiece designed to cut right through whatever fucking projection people like you want to throw up. And it builds, buddy. Charlie wants to whine about me going back over a year ago to tell my story, but that’s because he deliberately ignored the part where I again told him that’s exactly what I was doing. What I’ve always been doing! Every word, every phrase, every speech, every fight… it builds. Every day, every week, every month, every fucking year… it builds! From fourteen years ago to eighteen years in the future - all of it drives every fucking action I take! And honestly, Raion, the part of you being here that gets me excited is that we get to go through all of this again. See, Charlie’s had it explained to him ad infinitum and still doesn’t fucking get it. Dolly, well, she should know better than most, but somehow seems like she’s missing the mark with where I’m at, presently. But you? I get to explain it all over again for you.

And I will.

Because it’s crystal fucking clear by now that absolutely none of you can figure out the goddamn equation without me piecing it together for you.

And what, just because I’m the nigh unstoppable force of fucking nature that you’ve all come to know and be super jelly of, I’m supposed to forget where I’ve come from? To forget who I am?

I am ALIAS.

I AM FUCKING ALIAS.

That’s the explanation, Raion, and when I add ‘all that it entails’, I’m bringing with me a cosmos already overrun with fire. I’m bringing with me the planets I’ve scorched! The faces I’ve fucking melted! And the scars on my own goddamn body too!



You seem like a relatively nice guy, Raion. And the thing I like most about you is that you jumped. If you know what I mean there, then you’re one step along the path that nobody has been able to get to the end of. But unfortunately for you, your idea of my past is gonna need a fair bit of remoulding.

What, you think that ‘cause you’ve got yourself a shiny briefcase that you and I are in anyway the same? I never even competed in Leap of Faith to get that briefcase, bud. I fought, day-in, day-out, 24/7 25/8 for months to earn it. In the corridors, in the ring, at Dolly Water’s own super-special one-off show. I slayed kings. I broke legends. I became something more than you could ever fucking comprehend! They’ve gone and jumped the gun including you here just to try and give me some sort of challenge. I can only assume they’re trying to tempt you into using that briefcase too, so as I said to Charlie last time… let’s fucking talk about it. The trick to separating briefcase holders like me from those like a Ned Kaye, or even a Jim Caedus, is how it all plays out. Few have ever done it like I did it, my guy. Few have ever left the same mark that I did. Cashing in the briefcase and winning the Universal Championship isn’t enough. Jim’s, for example, was pathetic. And STILL that needed two factions, a werewolf, a horde of zombies, the entire cast of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, and a literal white whale! I can tell you though, that ain’t gonna work again. Fool me once. And nobody who ever tries that shit again is ever going to reach the glory that I fucking achieved.

Because of the build.

It’s full fucking circle.

You though? You’re shoe-horned in here. You’re not supposed to be in this position! I’m not complaining. I get to definitively answer ‘the briefcase question’ before anybody can even truly ponder it. There is just literally nobody left! Corey Smith, for example, is able to sign up for a tournament run by Chris fucking Page of all people, but not able to throw down with the guy he’s been teasing a scrap with for months. Why? Because he knows he’d just be making up numbers. Just like you, Raion, as well as Charlie and Dolly too. You’re fucking scraps that I’m supposed to heap onto my plate and try to piece together into some sort of meal. ALIAS asked for the fucking world, and you’re all they could come up with. So all this is, is an exhibition of Space Jesus. A call to the fucking wild while we’ve got a few extra ears listening.

Is Dickie Watson there?

Corey Black?

Vhodka Black?

Quick! Someone dig up Dan Ryan or Damian Alya! Send ‘em all at once!

I’d say Madison Dyson too, but daddy needs a real fight.

‘Cause it’s getting waaaay too easy to survive the shit’s being thrown my way. You’re not the first Lion I’m gonna have slain, Raion. Channel whatever Saints of Athena (or fucking whatever) bullshit that you want, my guy…

I’m the motherfucking God-Killer.

The King-Slayer.

The World-Eater.

The World-Beater.

The War-Winner.

The Legend-Killer.

The D’Ville’s Bane.

The Bastard-Tamer.

The Wolf-Skinner.

The Soldier-Butcher.

The Anti-Venom.

The Master of the fucking Universe.

I’m Space Jesus.

Heh… the Label Gatherer.

More importantly…

I.

Am.

ALIAS.

I don’t know how many fucking times I’ve gotta say it, but I am curious, Rai-Rai, as to weather you’re starting to understand what that entails?

I’ve always been inevitable. C’mon, this ain’t breaking news, is it? Dolly, do I need to put that paperboy outfit on that Charlie so clearly wants to whack off over the thought of? It was never about tearing down egomaniacs, Dol’. It kind of hurts to think that’s all you thought this was. You were so goddamn instrumental in helping to focus me ever forward and in the end, that was all about just trying to pop a few heads that got all full of hot air? I feel used. And since you said what you said on Warfare, I’ve had a bit of time to reflect upon it. I’ve gotta say, I’m having trouble tryna reconcile your distaste for the ego that I have always said that I’m prone to and you somehow trying to lambast me for trying to find who I am. What in the nonsensical, Charlie Nickles-level of idiocy, cot dang heck, is your fucking problem? Yes, Dolly, I spent a lot of time trying to find out who I was. Jesus tongue-punching Christ, THAT’S WHAT IT WAS ABOUT WHEN WE FIRST MET!

Did you miss that? Was I just another fucking vagrant coming into the house of you and whichever best bi guy mate you’re crushing on this week? Did you somehow fucking miss that everything I am, everything that I could be, is all built upon the foundation of my identity? My fucking name?

No shit I spent time finding myself!


Your last name is garbage, and I know that carries a whole lot of shit with it, but fuck… I didn’t even have a name! You knew that! You fucking should know that today! And you’re what? Pissed at that now? If so, get fucked!

Look… it’s cool if I placed you higher on my friends tier than you placed me. I uh… I didn’t have many of them. And it’s probably fair to say that I never really knew how to interact with them. You don’t need to search much further than those awkward first encounters with Corey to see a perfect example. But I would’ve thought that we were at least friendly enough that you’d cast me a little bit of fucking slack about it. I thought that you had at least some sort of context as to what’s brought me here that you wouldn’t go and hold it above my fucking head the very moment that the line was drawn in the sand between us? Not all of us can be all buddy-buddy with the fucking d’ville in Old Man Lou and have literally all of their friends just not bat an eye about it while they tear each other apart based on the lies the good doctor whispered into some of their own fucking ears. That’s all you, my friend! The plucky-as-ever Dolly Waters! Everyone knows how good she can be, but nobody knows how to actually get her to fucking produce it.

That’s the low-hanging fruit. Your wrinkly doctor friend knows how much I love those, and surely Charlie does by now too. But… where’s the lie? Where’s the fucking lie in any of my claims about my stature? Am I not the most dominant motherfucker that’s been seen this side of forever? Don’t get me wrong - I lie a lot. But what seems to have gotten your goat is the fact that I looked everyone square in the fucking eye and told them that they do not have what it takes to put me down.

I say again, Dolly: Where is the lie in that?

NOT A SINGLE FUCKING PERSON HAS EVER PUT MY SHOULDERS TO THE MAT FOR THREE WHEN WE’VE GONE TOE-TO-TOE!

If you’re gonna think worse of me for stating facts like that, then the problem doesn’t seem to be lying with me. You’ve let lesser beings get away with worse, entirely unaccosted, or at the very least, easily forgiven.

What standard have you devised for me, Dolly? What box have you fucking put me in?

Heh…

Look how easily I control the narrative…

Of course I do that, Charlie. Why the fuck would any of us not?

You have the least momentum of the four of us, and yet, I just set up my story against you as if I - the tour de force that I am - am the one with something to prove.

Because I do.

Yes, I am everything I claim I am.

But mark my words… I have never forgotten the reason I do what I do.

The Universe still calls to me. As it did when I was locked away! As it did when I was being tortured on the fucking reg’! If you’ve got a problem with that, Dolly, then we’ve got something that we need to sort out.

So fucking do it.

Go on.

Fucking do it!

FUCKING DO IT!

Fight me, Dolly. Stop me from becoming whatever it is you’re imagining I’m turning into. The villain I saw in my own future, I assume?

Or you could pay a-fucking-ttention and remember that you’re supposed to be my friend.

Either way, you’re not winning. If there was one of the three of you I’d have to pick to do me in, it’d be you in a heartbeat. But that’s not how this ends.

This. Is. Not. The. End.

I don’t give a fuck if you’re Dolly Waters, Charlie Nickles, Raion Kido, or Raion Kido with a briefcase after I’ve already embarrassed him in a straight-up exchange o’ fisticuffs… this ends one way.

ALIAS doing ALIAS things.

Eating You All.”

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1B: The Book of Dani

1

1Man was born of the fire, and the fire doth sought to reclaim him. 2This was the message delivered unto the world by Him, and delivered unto Him by the Universe. 3Thus, the world was born of the Universe through Him, just as man was from the fire. 4For the Universe is fire, and the world is man. 5Men, then, are many worlds. 6Each with the Universe seeking to devour them, like the fire to man. 7The pursuit of man is therefore no occupation for man itself but for the base elements of existence or nought. 8‘Tis a natural process man seeks to delay not avoid. 9But ‘said delay would still bare fruit’, He said, and upon His word thine will grew leaves. 10The blooming bounty of what thou hast sown and tilled could still preserve even unfortified against the flames. 11Yea, He spake, and with such certainty. 12As it was said so then must it be true. 13For the liar taking ownership of the lie is no different than the fire taking ownership of the man. 14Or the Universe of the world. 15The genesis of the lie shall be its undoing, and the birth of man shall be its death. 16So it was said. 17So then, it must be true.

That great ball of burning light entered the room without asking, and assaulted me awake. It wasn’t wholly unexpected. Lance had commented on the lack of curtains or blinds when we had first gotten here, and in the time since, the three of us had each paid lip service to the idea of sourcing some but weeks had gone by since then and we never quite got around to it. It was all too easy to get sidetracked by life. Or the preservation of it, anyway.

The building had been repurposed - legally, allegedly - from whatever it once was, and now served as a home for the vagrants and the lost. For people like us.

It wasn’t the beckon of anyone in particular who had called us here, just as it hadn’t been for the hundreds or even thousands of others like us out there now, stashed away in our hidey-holes in the middle of your cities. We have made our own lives here, and still our numbers continue to swell. The UAE, Fiji, Samoa… the word continues to spread, and we, those who had already taken up our metaphorical swords for the movement, continued to hear of their successes. It was spreading, this movement. Everywhere He went, the people like us added their own cities-within-cities, in the name of Him. It is inspiration He offered, and we, the gullible sheep, were ready to eat it up by the plateful.

I knew that was how others probably viewed us. What could it be that would cause people to throw away their lives all in the name of a chain-smoking man with holes in His shoes and a penchant for the c-word? But it wasn’t that which drew us here. It was the hope of something more, when balanced against whatever excuse for a life we had been saddled with.

Even now, that hope remained.

Even as He swore to the world that he would fight them all at the same time - and promised that he would survive.

Even as He dropped into a boat somewhere in the Pacific, just to beat up on a guy who reminded me a lot of half of my cousins.

Even as He looked into the eyes of a madman, a warrior, and a friend alike, and told each of them they weren’t up to the task.

It was aggressive. He was aggressive. More and more so each day.

Even then, that hope remained.

We - the collective mass of humanity who have found ourselves again as a result of this movement - we simply viewed it as a gauntlet being put down. One that we had picked up, each with our own reasons why. We could leave, whenever we wanted to. But our lives were better here.

Here there were pancakes.

“Just in time!” He smiled back at me from over the top of the stove, and gestured towards the plate of stacked treats next to him. He slid one more out of the pan onto the top of the stack, and settled the pan back down onto the stove, switching that particular flame off.

The table was already set. Syrup and compote and cream and fruit, all sat neatly in bottles and pottles and bowls and platters. Placemats were out, and the cutlery was already there.

“You… did all this?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. He ‘had a go at breakfast’ - His words - after us being here just a couple of days, and had gotten such rave reviews from me and Lance that every morning since there was another decadent spread. It had quickly become one of the things I most looked forward to. We rarely left the flat, especially those of us who didn’t punch people in the face for a living. But there was still breakfast.

ALIAS winked at me as he carried the stack of pancakes away from the small, single-wall kitchenette. A fallen sheet blocks the way, but he deftly stepped over it and made it to the table without incident. I swooped in behind him, and flicked the blanket from the ground to the sofa that had been acting as His bed. We didn’t realise there were only two bedrooms when we were first offered this place, but we just needed somewhere to get to that wasn’t a metaphysical hole in reality. Somewhere that wasn’t the place our other BEST FRIEND had tried to kill himself.

I looked over to the closed door of the second bedroom.

“He’s not up yet?” I almost expected the door handle to turn as soon as I said that. But that’s another thing that’s been as consistent as The World-Eater making breakfast.

We needed to go to him.

ALIAS stood over His handiwork, but didn’t take a seat. He waited for me.

“Hey…” I pressed my face against Lance’s door, and rapped upon it. “Hey, are you up?”

“Yes.”

The door swung open. Just as it would every time I knocked on it.

But Lance looked different this morning.

Through the walls, I would often hear him tossing and turning through the night. And with ALIAS rummaging about in this communal space - I wasn’t sure if He ever slept - it made for some rather noisy nights. (As if my own worries weren’t enough of an issue.) It often made for a scraggly-looking Lance in the mornings as well.

Yet there he stood with his hair combed. The patchwork excuse for a beard that had grown out had now been trimmed back to his bare cheeks and instead of wearing the same pair of navy blue tracksuit pants that he had greeted the day with, the ones with the curry stain on the left leg, he was in an awkwardly fitting pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. Just like he used to be.

“You look nice,” I smiled at him. Or… I probably started smiling before I even spoke.

“So do you,” Lance smiled back.

“I’m not sure having no make-up on, my hair not being done, and being in my pyjamas would constitute ‘looking nice’...”

“Of course it does!” His smile didn’t fade. Lance swept past me and as his head bobbled a little, the red line around his neck from where the noose had drawn tight, peeked its way out from above where the collar hid it.

Seeing him like this again - so strong, in his own way… I had almost forgotten what had brought us here.

Lance left me behind and made a beeline for the table. A silly head nod was passed between him and ALIAS - some sort of pseudo-masculine performance that I won’t ever understand - and Lance took a seat.

ALIAS waited for me before taking his own.

And our last breakfast began.

2

1Yea, man came from the flames, which had never been extinguished. 2He spake to us of ‘the fire that will snuff the flames’. 3And lo, with the word, they did continue to burn, and deceive. 4For fire is light, and thus from light it was too that man was born. 5Man may flee the flames but be drawn towards the light, just as the world seeks to return to its place in the Universe. 6Man is caught. 6Man is torn. 7The children considered of the word to be motif or idiom, but the word is both truth and lie just as fire is light. 8With the word He promised the fire. 9That which snuffs; that which is snuffed. 10And the light - that which lights; that which dims. 11As it is to the liar. 12The alpha and the omega.

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1C: The Book of Lance

1

1Blessed be the sheep, grazing in the field. 2Blessed be the shepherd, whom toils and sows the green. 3Should a lamb wander astray, blessed still be thine beast that which strikes its own. 4Vanquish any celebration of the parable. 5Empyrean joy shan't be cast for the return of the lost. 6These are idolatrous tongues spreading falsehoods - liars and knaves. 7He showed to I an agency that losthood denies. 8Thou art not the antithesis; 9'Tis not my own nor thou duty to search. 10He has said it so it must be true. 11He is the antithesis. 12For only He cannot loss.

Today I felt the sun. I really felt it. It had come to say 'hello' every day, and brought with it all the supposed joy of the morning, but it wasn't until today's gentle kiss that I truly felt warmed by it.

I… think it was because I knew what needed to be done.

I had played the failure; the wreck; the fool. I drew the attention of the wretched, and they cast me with their hoary, haggard hate. Charlie Nickles. Jenny Myst. Barney Green. Jim Jimson. I invited their ire, in truth, and from it?

I survived.

Is that not my ‘BEST FRIEND’'s oft proclaimed decree? Survival! Eternal, inevitable survival! ALIAS doing ALIAS things.

But I heard a voice last night. It sang me a lullaby. And when I finally got to rest - finally - it settled within my forsaken soul and ripped my eyes open to the truth.

We are all here for that same purpose.

Dani doing Dani things.

Lance doing Lance things.

Surviving. The mantra of the movement.

Sure.

I’ve survived worse. I just commited worse to myself, and look? Here I am. The mirror that I stare in shows me the reddened scar of my deed, but it’s with my own eyes that I get to look upon it. Eyes that have seen worse.

Even worse…

…

Today I felt the sun. I really felt it. Inside.


I put my legs in my pants, one at a time. I did the buttons up on my shirt one at a time. I looked myself in the mirror and gave myself a wink that ol’ Space Jesus himself would be proud of.

“Hey…” I heard Dani rapping at the door. “Hey, are you up?”

“Yes.” It was good to hear her voice. She didn’t even know the role she needed to play; bless her. It had been her idea to come back up to Maine here. Portland, my ‘hometown’, as it were. She thought the familiarity might be nice, and it had been, even though I hadn’t even left the unit.

A smile crept on her face before she even spoke.

“You look nice.”

“So do you.” I did my best to smile back; to make her feel at ease. More so than ALIAS - who I saw standing off in the corner over another round of his breakfast feast, Dani had been practically walking on tiptoes around me. She didn’t need to. Not today.

“I’m not sure having no make-up on, my hair not being done, and being in my pyjamas would constitute ‘looking nice’...”

“Of course it does!”

No, today I wanted her to know how important she was. I wanted her to share in the joy that I had found after finally - finally - getting a good night’s sleep.

I wanted her to know what I had heard.

The table was set, so I went over for my feast. In his own way, my ‘BEST FRIEND’ already knew what I now knew. We nodded in our shared understanding. And then, I took my seat. Dani followed, before ALIAS eventually added Himself to the circle and nudged the stacked pancakes into the vague space somewhere between Dani and I. He had been considerate enough these past couple of weeks after I was released from the hospital, but less inclined to baby me in the way that Dani would. I was appreciative of that.

He had saved my life. Again.

And I was definitely appreciative of that.

ALIAS doing ALIAS things.


I let Dani go first. She delicately slid the top pancake onto her own plate and made way for me to stick a fork in the next one. I dropped it down in front of me and coated it in everything. They needed to see that I was ready. They needed to know, in order to–

“Chocolate?” ALIAS offered. I hadn’t even seen the Hershey’s syrup bottle on the side of the table next to Him. If anybody knew what it was like to make a meal out of something, it was He. Readily, I accepted it, and drenched the sugary mess on my plate with even more sugary mess. And I dug in.

We ate in a kind of silence that was a bit more comfortable than the other silent breakfasts we had.

Good…

I broke it.

“We need to talk.” I was met with wide eyes all round. A blueberry fell from Dani’s fork to her plate. “It’s okay, it’s not that kind of talk. I… first of all, I wanted to say ‘thank you’. For… all of this. For being there for me.”

“You wouldn’t have been in that position if it wasn’t for me.” ‘The Anti-Venom’ rests His fork on the edge of His plate. “That whole ordeal was my fault.”

That notion needs to be challenged.

“It’s not your fault that maniacs exist.”

“But I should’ve known.” He’s up for the debate. “The Bastards are–”

“Bastards?” Dani offered. She resumed her feast with an extra savage bite.

“Hardly,” ALIAS said. She side-eyed him from across the table. “That makes them sound too ‘fun’. But this wasn’t TK or Bobby - for all their faults. It was Charlie and Jim. Barney even. Jenny Myst isn’t even a Bastard, and the other three? The first two in particular? They’re just miserable cunts. And I know that. I knew that. So I should have known that–”

“Their hate is their own.” Hoary, haggard hate.

“But now it’s yours…”

“No.” I have plenty of my own. “And I need you to know that. I need you to trust that. Can you do that for me?”

ALIAS’s eyes darted over to Dani, seeking advice. She had none to offer, but her cutlery had been put down once again and she leaned in towards me.

“Where’s this going, Lance?”

“Paritegi.”

His face changed. It was the same look I’ve started to see in his eyes any time he spoke to [INSERT VICTIM OF THE WEEK HERE].

The ‘fire’ took on a completely different meeting.

I heard his teeth touch as his jaw tightened. It was all that he could do to hold himself back after I spoke Her name.

But it was what needed to happen.

I stared him down.

“You need to go back to Otherworld.” Dani was more than quiet. She was motionless. But ALIAS’s eyes blinked as they considered me. Not my words, but my very being - every part of it: physical, mental, spiritual, and… whatever else it was that He saw. I could see that He was about to offer some form of refusal, but that wasn’t going to fly. After all: “The world is at stake, isn’t it? The entire Universe?”

Slowly, He nodded.

“Then you need to go.” My voice dropped, and I did whatever I could to stress how important I thought it was.

“Eighteen years away will still be eighteen years away whether I leave now, or when you’re better.” The abject refusal may have been navigated past, but he still tried to wave the suggestion away.

“But the day it all changes won’t,” I said. “That day could be a few years from now, it could be at the Cannabis Cup, or it could be as early as tomorrow. You’ve wasted enough ti–”

“It’s not ‘wasted’.” There was that look again - that look beyond.

I smiled again. Heartfelt and sincere.

“It will be if you don’t go. All of this will be.” He knew I was right. I could tell. “You don’t think Dani and I have both noticed the way you speak when a fight is put in front of you? The way you talk down to anyone who dare suggest you’re not the ultimate survivor?”

“Are you saying that’s a problem?” Once more I see Him get ready for a fight.

“Not yet, but you need to go back to Otherworld before it is. Before you start turning that war against people who never chose to be in the fight to begin with. People like…”

“You.”

I knew He would understand.

His hand ran over the stubble of His cheeks, and He fell back in His chair. It squeaked a little under his weight.

“The last time that I left, I came back and you were hanging from the fucking ceiling…” In the weeks that we had been here, none of the three of us had ever said it so bluntly. Dani’s eyes closed and her head dropped. I thought she might be trying to hold back a tear. “The time before that might not have been to Otherworld, but when I came back from Korea was when you were gone. If I leave again…”

“I’ll be here,” Dani said.


“Even so…” He didn’t need to say what I was thinking.

“I will be.” She was resolute. Unblinking.

“I…”

“You know it needs to be done,” I said. Again, his head nodded.

His chair slid back.

“Now?” He asked, looking to both of us for confirmation. Dani and I shared a glance before giving our approval.

He shook my hand, gave her a hug, and clutching a small, vacant yet somehow effervescent orb, disappeared to another world. ALIAS doing ALIAS things. Leaving me alone with my hoary, haggard hate.

Dani and I locked eyes. I cut a piece of banana and stacked onto my fork alongside the syrup-soaked pancake and a splattering of cream, before shoving it in my mouth.

She did the same.

And her last breakfast continued.

2

1Cursed be the sheep, which tears life forth from land. 2Cursed be the shepherd, whom profits from the pillage. 3To take another’s gifts and claim them as were thine own is a sin against nature. 4To do so would be as if taking light from the fire, or death from life. 5The shepherd is thief to the sheep, as the sheep is thief to the world. 6The fire seeks the shepherd; the Universe seeks the world. 7‘What seeks the sheep?’, it was asked. 8Torn between two worlds, the sheep seeks both flame and heaven, both in birth and death. 9He cackled when He spake of that. 10Were I the sheep? 11Or were He the thief and liar?

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1D: The Fairy Tale of Otherworld
(This is a revisitation and expansion of the final part of the previous episode of the alternate future ‘Otherworld’ series. So if it feels familiar, it’s because it is. The characters included are obviously not the present equivalents, and events that occur there are not intended to impact upon any other handler’s creative direction of their own character.)




“Special Charlie…

Special Goldi…

Special Charlie…

Special Goldi…”

~~~


“You’ve seen this before.

Follow my voice.”


~~~


Charlie Nickles rocked back and forth. He was unbound, and curled up in the foetal position on the metal floor. The slats of a barren bed hung half-broken from the frame next to him, and the mattress that once sat atop them was haphazardly discarded to the side. Blood stained through the bandage around his chest where his cybernetic implants once were. They had tried to tidy him up, but every time he was left to his own devices, something like this would happen again.

He was hurling himself into the air and driving himself through the bed.

And to the brink of madness.

“Special Goldi…

Special Charlie…

Special Goldi…

Special Charlie…

We will be together again, some day!”

~~~


“I can feel your heart beating.

I know that you can hear me.

It is you.

I am here waiting for you.

Just listen. Follow.”


~~~


The latch on the door to his room unhooked, and Charlie continued to rock away. A slight shadow passed across the room as quiet footsteps scuffed along the floor. Charlie looked up and smiled through his shattered teeth. A coffee mug settled on the ground next to him.

“A gift for me!” he squealed with glee. He picked it up, looking to biff it up into the air. Suddenly, his face dropped with disappointment. “It’s empty?”

He looked towards the unseen figure in the room, his face awash with disappointment.

“That’s not the gift,” the voice said, through muffled means. “In fact, I think after today, you’re just about done giving or receiving gifts all together.”

“What’s that then?” Charlie asked, pointing to where the figure stood out of sight. He still smiled that deranged smile.

“Your goodbye present.”

Click went the hammer.

And the barrel…?

"Just so you know, I’m the one who let you out of here weeks ago so that The High Lord could capture you,” the voice told Charlie. “Your friends are out of here now. They’re accepted. Like you never would be. They’re not even going to come looking for you…”

BANG!

The bullet punctured a hole in Charlie Nickles’s head. His body gave way instantly.

He was dead.

~~~


“In more ways than one, no?

You have done well, my child.

Come now, there is much work to be done.

Follow my voice.”


~~~


“Never forget…

You made me do this.”

Lance slipped the gun into his belt, and left Charlie’s carcass where it fell.