Scribblers: Nemesis

Issue Three

INT. THE SCRIBBLERS’ BASE.  ABOUT MIDNIGHT.

CHRONAL and FINESSE are walking into the base where they all live.

CHRONAL

...so I said ‘hello’, and she immediately flipped on her head and stayed there for 30 seconds.

FINESSE

Like a celebration?

CHRONAL

No, I honestly don’t think she meant to do it.

FINESSE

You know what that is, don’t you, that’s a negative super power is what that is.

CHRONAL

Oh, yes!  You’re probably right.

They reach the door and walk in.  The bedroom nearest them has the door ajar, and distressed noises are coming from within.

CHRONAL

She’s in trouble!

HE moves to leap into action but FINESSE holds him back.

FINESSE

Er, you’ve never slept in a room with Amity before, have you?

CHRONAL

No, of course not.

FINESSE

Yeah, she’s pretty much always like that.

CHRONAL

Really?

FINESSE

She’s an empath, Chrone.  She can’t keep her emotional walls up when she’s asleep.

They walk into the adjoined living room (by the way, the Scribblers’ base looks remarkably like the Centre Parcs villa with more bedrooms and secret passages etc.) and find LYRIC there, sitting on the sofa by the lamp.

LYRIC is working on the fine details.  He is muttering under his breath and in the air in front of him, for moments each, hover tiny, intricate things - a fly’s wing, then a computer chip, a painted fingernail.

He looks up and the latest one vanishes.

LYRIC

Can you shut her up?

FINESSE

Hold on, I’ll do a bit of wall-building.

FINESSE goes to the door of Amity’s room and looks at her for a bit.  She starts to sleep peacefully.

A BIRD flies in through an open window, and morphs back into SHIFT, who looks very tired out.

Everyone looks up at her expectantly.

SHIFT

(Out of breath)

Nothing.  I went everywhere.

CHRONAL

Did you try the warehouse?

SHIFT

Yes.

LYRIC

And the old quarry?

SHIFT

Of course.  I went to all the old villain haunts.

FINESSE

Even the sewer cave?

SHIFT

Yes.

CHRONAL

Then we’ll have to force his hand.  We can draw Sintaro out with a show of force.

LYRIC

It’s too risky - do you know what he can do?

SHIFT

Maybe nothing at all.  The serum might have been unsuccessful.

CHRONAL

Then you know what we’ve got time for?  A PLAN!

LYRIC

A McPlan?

CHRONAL

Yes.

AMITY

Wraith, come out.

WRAITH

Like some kind of square?  No way.

WRAITH suddenly materialises on the sofa, wearing a dressing gown.  FINESSE looks smug.

WRAITH

Lame.

CHRONAL

OK, what do we know?

WRAITH

Sucky exposition.

AMITY

Good pont, Wraith.  Shall we get on with surprisingly accurate conjecture and forward the plot a bit?

LYRIC

Gets my vote.

FINESSE

OK, so the serum probably worked, although I doubt it worked perfectly, and he’s probably building a team of heroes with himself at the head.

SHIFT

It’s what I’d do.

Everyone looks at her.

SHIFT

You know, if I was an evil supervillain.  Which I am not.

CHRONAL

OK.  And where do you think you might have your super-lair under those hypothetical circumstances?

SHIFT

Hmmm.  Somewhere you wouldn’t suspect.  Maybe...rent-a-lair.

FINESSE

I am staggered we didn’t think of that.  

CHRONAL

To the Turbo-Jet!

WRAITH

I’m driving.

PANEL: Everyone except Wraith looking very worried in the Turbo-Jet, Wraith looking maniacally pleased.

CHRONAL does his blurry thing, then reappears looking confident.

CHRONAL

OK, we don’t know what to expect, so five of us go in together, that way if there is something big, he can’t pick us off individually.  Wraith, you’re the exception.

WRAITH looks round at him.

LYRIC

Eyes on the road!

They swerve wildly and then drive on.

CHRONAL

Wraith-don’t-look-at-me you stay invisible and keep back - if anything goes wrong we’ll at least have one trick left.

SHIFT

I’d better hide then.  I’ll be a moth.

CHRONAL

Fine, but stay with us.  Hide in someone’s collar.

FINESSE

Taxed.

AMITY

Oh, I wanted a daemon.

SHIFT

It’s still be me, Amity, and stop mixing genres.

AMITY

Sorry.

PANEL: The six Scribblers arrive.  They stand before a massive warehouse door, the drama of which is only slightly undermined by a sign saying “Rent-a-lair”, followed by a list of sympathetic insurance companies.  Shift flutters as a moth above Finesse’s head, Wraith is a faint shimmer mid-way between visibility and invisibility, and the others stand side by side looking Cool.

They go into the room, and there’s a security guard there, in one of those little booths.

CHRONAL

We’re looking for Sintaro.

The very ordinary-looking security guard looks up.

GUARD

Sintaro?  Where have I...ah, yes.  You’ll be the Scribblers, then.  He’s expecting you.

FINESSE

Where?

GUARD

Oh, right.

He consults a piece of paper.

GUARD

Third door on the left, second floor.

As they leave, we see (they don’t) a tiny purple tongue flick briefly from behind his lips.  Then he goes back to his newspaper.

The gang reach the appropriate door.

CHRONAL

Wraith?

Wraith does his trick with looking through doors.  He is completely invisible and therefore completely relaxed until he sees a girl looking back at him.  She waves cheerfully, then opens the door quickly into his face.  He falls down and in the shock, becomes visible again.

MEDIUM

Hello.  You must be the Scribblers.

WRAITH

How?

MEDIUM

I’m called Medium.

She looks directly at SHIFT, still hidden in FINESSE’s hair.

MEDIUM

I see what is hidden.  Team!

Four people turn up - three men and a woman.  Like MEDIUM, they are all wearing exclusively black.  It’s a bit designer-cool, to be honest.  They each stand opposite a different Scribbler, leaving a gap in the middle and the space opposite Chronal empty.  They all look pretty mean.

MEDIUM stands opposite WRAITH, who has got up by this point.  Opposite FINESSE is a handsome blonde man - muscular, with a sinister twist to his lip.  Opposite AMITY is a thin, dark man with a very steady gaze.  SHIFT is confronted with a strong-looking man with a sheen almost like metal across his complexion, and across from LYRIC is a woman with loads of long red hair down her back and very pale, empty eyes that are quite scary to look at.

DISCORD

Fair’s fair, Medium.  We already know who they are.

MEDIUM

Thank you, Discord.  Scribblers, allow me to introduce my friends.  

The words for this page appear in blocks at the top, and each panel contains one Scribbler and one villain.

MEDIUM

Block.  

BLOCK bows extravagantly.  Finesse could not look more disdainful.

MEDIUM

Discord.

DISCORD lets an unpleasant smile hover on his lips.  Amity looks uncomfortable.

MEDIUM

Eraser.

ERASER gives Lyric a sultry look.  Lyric clearly finds her a bit perplexing.

MEDIUM

Metal Man.

METAL MAN

(Mumbling)

I didn’t know we were going for ironic nicknames until we’d handed our forms in.

SHIFT finds this pretty amusing.

MEDIUM

As for what we can do, why don’t you let us show you...

FINESSE

Er, “Block” can block powers, “Discord”’s a telepath, “Eraser” can unmake matter, and “Metal Man” (she stops to smirk) can turn himself into anything non-organic.

CHRONAL

Shall we fight them?

WRAITH

Plan good.  Fight.

Each one squares up to their opposite number, except Chronal, who steps back thoughtfully, and Block and Finesse, who circle the group.

LYRIC

Ties that bind a rope would do give them enough rope a rope

PANEL

A large rope is half-materialised around all the baddies.  LYRIC is looking at it fiercely, but ERASER is looking at it too, standing almost right beside him.  Both are speaking.

FINESSE and BLOCK are circling the group, helping/hindering.

SHIFT is a saber-toothed tiger, in mid-air as she launches herself at the now metallic Metal Man.

AMITY and DISCORD stand motionless where they started, staring at each other.

MEDIUM looks gloatingly on, and WRAITH, semi-visible again, looks side-long at her with pure hatred.

PANEL

FINESSE stands behind SHIFT, strengthening her, as she transforms in mid-air into a buffalo - Metal Men can still be squashed, and he clearly knows it.

WRAITH has crept up behind MEDIUM while she’s distracted, and is about to knock her out with a stray pipe he has found.

LYRIC has caused a sword to appear in his hand, and has created loads of tiny darts in mid-air.  They are about to rain down on the baddies, but they are still translucent because ERASER is also muttering under her breath.

AMITY and DISCORD still stand in the middle of the room, motionless, but now Discord’s posture shows utter dejection.  He looks about to give up.

BLOCK is standing very nearby.

CHRONAL is suddenly right on the other side of the panel, watching events, helping where he’s needed.

ERASER

Undo the pipe take it away there won’t be any pipe today

WRAITH

A sword will help a mighty sword go easy on the jewels a real sword

PANEL

(Last massive crowded panel for a while, promise!)

SHIFT is now a wild cat, and is standing fiercely on the chest of the now prostrate metal man.

BLOCK is standing over AMITY, who is lying on the ground in distress.  DISCORD looks smug again.

MEDIUM has turned around but is being overpowered by WRAITH, who is still invisible even though she can see him (he prefers it that way).  He looks perplexed at his absent pipe.

LYRIC is making the panel look crowded and interesting by making jets of water shoot out of the cracks in the walls, overpowering ERASER, who is spluttering too much to speak counter-words.

PANEL

AMITY being helped up by FINESSE, clutching her arms.  In a bit of a state, really.

AMITY

He’s taken my empathy.

FINESSE

You’ll get it back.

AMITY

It’s how I know you’re all alive.  You’ve all gone.

FINESSE uses her powers to give AMITY back hers, and she stops being such a drama queen.

AMITY

Right.

BLOCK is occupied in stopping SHIFT’s powers from working.  She is suddenly human again, and METAL MAN is advancing on her with a stupid grin.

AMITY stands behind him, with FINESSE by her side.

He crumples into an emotional heap on the floor, then skulks from the room.

FINESSE

What did you give him?

AMITY

Self loathing.

SHIFT turns into a wolf, for a bit of a change, and goes back to intimidating the unfortunate Metal Man.

WRAITH has successfully pinned MEDIUM, so he drags her over to be guarded by SHIFT.

Damn, just realised the telepath hasn’t done anything at all.  Um...OK, he...oh whatever.  He’s been allowing them all to communicate freely for the whole time without words, or something.

DISCORD saunters over to where LYRIC and ERASER are still trying to outdo each other (she has stopped the water thing now).

LYRIC is about to speak.

DISCORD

Fire.

ERASER

No fire keep out the fire make no fire.

LYRIC is surprised.  He opens his mouth again.

DISCORD

Falling beam.

ERASER

Stable roof, strong roof, no damage no danger.

FINESSE walks over and stands behind LYRIC.

FINESSE

Now.

LYRIC opens his mouth.

DISCORD

Selective avalanche.

LYRIC

Avalanche careful fall on them keep us safe keep them under avalanche

WRAITH puts his hands around ERASER’s mouth to stop her from undoing it, and AMITY gives DISCORD an unaccustomed bout of self-doubt to keep him occupied.

With FINESSE’s support, LYRIC conjures an amazing, and selective, avalanche, which rains snow and rock and earth on the baddies, but more or less completely misses the Scribblers.  This looks amazing - everyone is up to their ankles in snow, and the scene is as above when it freezes.

MR SINTARO turns up.  He’s probably wearing a black suit, or something.  He is slow hand-clapping.

CHRONAL (sorry he hasn’t been about much - he’s about to make up for it) walks slowly towards him through all the frozen fighters.  This looks Really Cool, especially because he is wearing a much better outfit.

MR SINTARO

Hello again, Chronal.

CHRONAL looks at him, not prepared to engage in pleasantries.

MR SINTARO

As you see, I have kept my word...

CHRONAL

And your penchant for melodrama.

MR SINTARO

...and have acquired your powers.  Did you like my friends?  I did hope they would amuse you.

CHRONAL

Did they give their consent to this scheme?

MR SINTARO

Of course.  Discord saw to that.

(See?  He is useful.)

MR SINTARO

And now we are going to fight.  The same powers.  An even contest.  

CHRONAL

Really?

CHRONAL suddenly disconcertingly appears right beside MR SINTARO.

CHRONAL

Experience counts for a lot, you see.  For example, you probably think you have stopped time.  It was years before I could tell the difference between ‘almost’ and ‘quite’.

CHRONAL is suddenly tying the last knot in a rope that is now securely tying up Mr Sintaro.

CHRONAL

It is worth the effort.

He miraculously has hand cuffs and foot cuffs.  Both are now attached appropriately to Mr Sintaro.

CHRONAL

Shall we rejoin the others?

CHRONAL glances around the room to check that his friends are all winning, then goes back into normal time.

METAL MAN has turned himself into a metal shelter and the rest of the super-villains are now huddling underneath it to avoid being crushed by the mini-avalanche.

The Scribblers gradually disengage themselves from their enemies, and then walk out through the door.  Mr Sintaro stands bound in the middle of the room looking disgruntled.

The gang is back in the turbo-jet.  WRAITH is NOT driving.

LYRIC

Good work-out.

FINESSE

They’ll be better next time.

LYRIC

Better make sure we are, then.  Right, what I want to do is for you to start learning how to hinder us rather than help us, if you can.  They won’t be expecting it, and if I ever see that girl again I want to give her more than a quick avalanche.

AMITY

(To SHIFT)

Paned?

SHIFT

Good idea.

Not, I'm afraid, the most polished thing I've ever written, but there we are!  Sorry about the voices too - I sort of forgot about it when the action started.  Have included panels when I felt like it, in the hope that someone might draw them.  :-)

Day of the Dumpster - Part One of Four

When Angela opened her eyes that morning, her byfriend was nowhere to be seen.

"Zack?" she called.

And then, he burst in.

"Morning, beautiful!" he said. "Can I pull that off, by the way? Either way – it's time for toast!"

Angela sat up in bed as Zack passed her the tray.

"What on earth have I done to deserve this?" she asked.

"My way of apologising," said Zack. "I know I haven't been available much lately, between rehearsals and touring." He grinned broadly. "But today's different! It's Zack and Angela Day today, all day."

"That's great, Zack," said Angela between bites of toast. "And thanks for my breakfast." She reached over and grabbed his hand. Then, remembering something, she frowned. "Don't you think you should phone Bobby, though? He's been waiting to see you even longer than I have."

"Zack and Bobby Day's tomorrow, beautiful!"

"You really can't pull that off."

"I know," said Zack sadly.

+++

Even though it was early, William Cranston was already studying in the library. He was a hard worker – he wanted to do well in his major, and move away from home. His family hadn't been able to afford to send him anywhere else, so he'd been forced to stay in California.

As he worked, an oriental girl walked past, and William realised how narrow his horizons were. He'd barely left his home town, let alone the state or the country. What an experience it'd be to immerse oneself in a foreign culture, even studying in a foreign language.

But if he didn't stop daydreaming, he'd never get anywhere. He concentrated on his book.

+++

Miss Hart checked her watch. Eight minutes she'd been waiting for Eugene to sort out the television. Thank goodness for Mr Oliver, the teaching assisstant – he was currently taking the kids through the finer points of glaciation, giving her valuable marking time. But still, these kids' STAR exams were on the line, and she couldn't afford to wait around for faulty equipment.

She walked towards Eugene. Keeping her voice low so that she wouldn't be overheard, she said, "Any chance of getting this ready before tectonic plate movement renders the video obsolete, Mr Skullovitch?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Hart," he said. "It's old equipment. Wires are frayed." He jumped suddenly, having received a shock from one of the wires in question. "I'm sure I'll get it done by the next period."

"Alright," sighed Miss Hart. "But please try to get these things done on time in the future. You had over a week's notice."

"I'm sorry," Eugene muttered.

Miss Hart considered going on, but decided she'd had her say. Eugene frustrated her – he was poor at communicating, and unreliable. She found herself tempted to avoid all technology in lessons these days to avoid having to deal with the complications he caused.

She sat back at her desk, continuing her work, looking up every so often to keep an eye on her teaching assistant.

+++

Jason blew on his whistle to stop a man from running. He wasn't too keen on swimming pool duty, but someone had to do it. Weekdays were often like this – quiet, and no classes running.

By his nature, Jason liked to teach, so he much preferred classes. At three, he was scheduled for a fitness class for the over-sixties. That was better than nothing.

He turned his attention to the TV mounted in the gymnasium in the next room. He couldn't hear it through the glass, but he could see it was the news, reporting on the recent moon landing. Even the text scrolling along the bottom was too far away to read, and he quickly lost interest.

It'd be so nice to have something to do, he thought.

+++

Angela and Zack sat in the shade of the sentinel statue in the park. Shaped like a giant fist, it had been the location of their first date.

They ate their picnic, and Angela filled Zack in on what had been going on in the neighbourhood during his time away.

"Bobby still hasn't found work," she said. "Rent's been getting him down, and his housemates aren't happy. He sometimes stays in the spare room to get away from it all."

"Wish he'd find something he's good at," said Zack. "He doesn't seem to be motivated to learn anything new. No wonder he has a hard time finding a job."

"Not everyone has your natural talents," said Angela.

Zack grinned broadly. "I know," he said, jumping on her. "Or my natural charm!"

"Get off," she squealed, laughing.

He managed to pin her to the floor, and sat on her.

"You let me go right now, Mister," she cried. "You're so dumped, I can't even believe it."

"No I'm not," said Zack cheerfully.

"Yes you are! And stop shaking me!"

"I'm not shaking you."

Angela tried to control her breathing, but couldn't stop laughing.

"Alright," she said. "I give up. You win. You can stop now."

"Stop what?" asked Zack innocently. "And stop moving."

Angela stopped laughing. "I have stopped moving."

Zack jumped to his feet. He grabbed Angela's hand and pulled her up. The tea in their thermos flask was quivering. Zack leaned down, and felt the ground with his hand.

"It's vibrating," he said.

+++

Jason suddenly cllimbed down from his chair. The entire surface of the swimming pool was vibrating. Some of the swimmers began to notice, but none made any attempt to leave. Jason presumed they thought it was a wave machine or something.

He walked to the other side of the room, and opened the door that led to the front desk.

"Amy," he called. "Have you noticed anything weird-"

He was suddenly cut off as the ground beneaeth him shook violently, knocking him to the ground.

A second later, Jason was back on his feet, and facing the pool.

He blew on his whistle.

"Everyone, if I could ask you to step out of the pool until further notice."

And then the earthquake started properly.

+++

"Everyone stay calm," said Miss Hart loudly. "Follow Mr Skullovitch out of the building."

Eugene walked shakily towards the door, followed by the pupils.

"Make sure they're safe," said Miss Hart as they passed her.

Mr Oliver waited until they were all gone, and then asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"We'll check the rest of this building," said Miss Hart. "Make sure everyone's out."

"Dangerous," said Mr Oliver. "We ought to get right out of here."

"Do that, then," said Miss Hart. She turned on her heel, and headed through the door.

+++

William cowered under the table as books flew past him in all directions, knocked from the shelves by the quake. After a few minutes, he decided that all the heavy books were on the floor by now, and crawled out from his hiding place.

Everyone else had left the library already. Everyone except ...

"Are you alright?" she called. It was the oriental girl he'd seen earlier. Hearing her Texan accent, William was momentarily embarassed by having assumed she was an exchange student.

"I'm okay, yeah," he replied.

"There's a hole in the stairs," said the girl. "We can't get down."

"We'll head up, then," replied William. "This building connects to the math department on the top floor."

"Is climbing to the top floor a good idea during an earthquake?"

"Better than jumping from the fifth," William pointed out.

"Fair point."

+++

Zack ran through the park, clutching tightly to Angela's hand. Get out of the way of anything that can fall, his instincts told him.

They ran deeper into the park, finally reaching a clearing. This part of the park was kept clear of trees and statues, and was traditionally used by families playing baseball and sunbathers in the summer.

It was currently entirely empty, apart from a man dressed in grey in the distance.

The ground was shaking so fiercely by now that it was becoming difficult to stand.

"This is ridiculous," said Zack, struggling to maintain his balance. He felt Angela's hand slip from his, and turned around to check that she was alright.

"Zack," she breathed. "Can't ... keep ... running."

"Alright," he said. "We'll stay here. No problem."

"Look out!" screamed Angela suddenly.

Zack turned around, and the man in grey punched him in the shoulder. The force was tremendous – his shoulder felt as though it had broken on impact.

"What are you doing, man?" he cried. "We're all in the same boat here ..."

The man stepped towards him again, and aimed a powerful kick at his stomach. Zack managed to back away in time, but the shaking ground caused him to fall on his back.

He could now see that this wasn't an ordinary man. He wasn't wearing grey – he was himself entirely grey. He looked like he was made of rock, but far smoother. Rough features were carved into his face, and all over, the grey surface of the man was streaked with thin black lines.

The man also seemed to be entirely unaffected by the quaking ground.

Zack managed to get to his feet, and dashed backwards, keeping an eye on the man in case he turned on Angela. On the contrary, the man followed Zack, calmly and slowly. His hands – larger than normal human hands – were balled into fists. He stamped his way towards Zack, who now turned around to run properly.

+++

Jason reached the gym, and a quick check confirmed that no-one was left inside. He struggled to reach the television, taking care around the equipment, and checked all the news channels. None were reporting on the earthquake, so he assumed this must be reasonably local.

As he headed back outside, the ground lurched, and an exercise bike slid towards the entrance. Jason sighed, and started to move it. Last thing he needed now was to be killed by an exercise bike.

+++

Miss Hart was impressed by the resilience of the old school building. The entire structure seemed sound, and nobody seemed to be trapped. Finally arriving outside, she smiled at Mr Oliver.

"Great," he said. "Let's go see the others."

Miss Hart frowned.

"No, actually," she said. "There are more buildings to check."

"You can't," said Mr Oliver, looking horrified. "There are dozens."

"I've got to make sure nobody's trapped."

"Any one of those buildings could collapse!"

"Not coming with me then?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh," said Miss Hart, suddenly disappointed. "Right. Run along, then."

"You're coming with me," insisted Mr Oliver.

"No, I'm not," said Miss Hart. She gave him a final look, and headed for the art department.

"Psycho," muttered Mr Oliver.

+++

William clutched his side as he arrived the top floor. He had a stitch.

His companion, by contrast, seemed to be absolutely fine. She glanced around, spotted signs on the walls, and headed in the direction of the maths block.

"Hope the stairs are okay in here," she said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Yeah," agreed William, trying to force his legs to keep going.

The girl entered the building first, and William followed. When he entered the building, the girl wasn't there.

"Hey," he said. "Hello?"

And then he also vanished.

+++

Jason reached the main entrance to the leisure centre. The building itself was fine, but outside, he could see that the neighbourhood was going insane. Looters got in the way of the hysterical, and the ground was littered with glass from broken windows.

He was about to leave when he simply disappeared.

A mile down the road, Miss Hart arrived at the art department, and did the same.

+++

Zack couldn't see Angela anymore – he hoped she'd find a safe place. But who knew what was going on?

"What are you, then?" he asked the grey man. "Rock monster? Or ... is that super-skin?"

He ducked a left hook, running faster out of the creature's grasp.

"Are you one of the Hulk's villains?" he asked. "I never read much of his stuff."

The creature launched itself forward, and landed on Zack's left foot. Once again, the pain was unbearable. Zack screamed, and fell to the ground. He rolled onto his back, and saw that a second rock creature had joined the first.

"Well," he said. "Since you ask – I'm an Avengers fan."

And then he vanished.

+++

Jason was the first to get up. When he saw where was, he nearly collapsed again. He was in an oval room, with computer consoles and desks strategically placed. It looked like a submarine control centre, complete with screens showing readings.

In the centre of the room was a large, white sphere, with no apparent connection to the computers surrounding it. Against the furthest wall was a large, steel door. A pit was in front of it, blocking access. On the opposite wall stood a thick, transparent cylinder, that seemed to be full of water.

One of the others stood up – a blonde guy with glasses.

"Where is this?" he asked, in a daze.

"No idea," said Jason. "Who are you?"

"William Cranston."

"Jason Scott," said Jason.

"Take me back," came an angry voice from opposite them. A blonde woman of Jason's age in a smart suit. "The kids need me. Take me back."

She marched towards Jason.

"I don't know where we are," he said. "Can't help you."

She looked towards William, who looked terrified. She calmed down slightly.

"Right," she said. "We're all prisoners, then?"

"No idea," said Jason.

William crossed over to help one of the remaining two visitors – an oriental girl of around the same age. Jason examined the final guest – a short, muscular black guy.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes.

"Earthquake, rock monsters ..." he said. "Weird sci-fi building. The logical next step."

"Are you alright?" asked Jason.

"My foot's killing me, and I think my shoulder's broken," confirmed the man. "I'm Zack Taylor, by the way. Are you from the IRS? 'Cause I swear my printer was broken, and my dog ate it."

And then, they heard a voice.

"Welcome." Ancient and pained. "My name is Zordon."

The three standing stepped forward. Zack craned his neck to see over a table, and saw a girl nearby stand up.

"Today is a grim day indeed," continued the voice, which seemed to be coming from the pipe. "The evil sorceress Rita Repulsa has been freed from her space dumpster, and has started her plot to destroy the world."

"Okay, guys," said Zack. "I think I speak for all of us when I say – what the crap is going on?"

Juncture: Left

The path continues to wind left and downhill, becoming increasingly dark and narrow. As she approaches the edge of a forest of pines, the verges of the road become dense with thickly tangled undergrowth. It seems eerily silent here and a slight mist begins to creep through the trees and over the rusty carpet of dead needles. Her footsteps click against the tarmac road and her breath sounds harsh and oppressively loud to her ears.

Up ahead she sees a track veering away from the main road. There is a handmade, wooden sign nailed crookedly into one of the trees nearest the bend. On the sign is a hand pointing and simply the words “Hintly Castle”. She pauses and considers the possibility of there being a telephone in this direction.

To decide, “Probably some old ruin- no chance of finding a phone there,” Stop reading and continue in the post “Juncture: Avoiding the Castle.”

To decide, “This is the only sign of life I’ve seen in this desolate place- I’m taking a chance on it.”
Continue reading below…

She turns down the track, covered in the debris of the trees; jumping slightly at the cracking of every dried, skeletal twig beneath her feet. The further down the track she goes, the slower time seems to pass; the quieter and the more unnerving the forest seems. The sky begins to take on a deep shade of orange, as dusk begins to fall. She struggles onwards, the track becoming more and more indistinct until she realises she cannot see a path either towards or away from the direction in which she was walking. Lost and stranded in the middle of a darkening forest, she begins to feel increasingly panicked. Suddenly, out of the silence, she hears something; a sound growing louder and louder. A rolling sound, as if of wheels, and a stamping, like that of feet.

“A carriage?” she wonders to herself. “But surely: impossible!”

She can’t believe what she hears because how could a carriage possibly hope to negotiate between these densely-packed trees?

The sound becomes louder and louder, almost echoing in the noiseless wood.

“Hello, there?” she ventures nervously into the darkness.

With a resounding crunch, the sound ceases, followed by a heavy thump and then footsteps, drawing closer.

She freezes, petrified to the spot, unable to move. A dark form materialises from the blackness, seemingly built of the very shadows themselves. As the shade steps closer, she realises it is a tall, lightly-built man, dark hair pulled back from a sharp, pale face. She also realises with a slight jolt of unexpected attraction, that he is extremely handsome. As he draws yet closer, she realises that his face expresses a difficult complex of emotion. Both curious and yet cruel; eager and yet distant.

“Good evening,” the man addresses her, his emotions now concealed behind a perfect mask of politeness.

“Good evening,” she replies, managing to suppress the tremor that might have entered into her voice.

“Might I enquire, if you do not consider it impertinent, how you came to be here? You are a long way from the road.”

“My car broke down and I took this path in the hope of finding a phone,” she blurted out in reply, somehow feeling she must be in the wrong.

“A telephone?” he replies, a lilt of curiosity and slight distaste entering his tone. “Well, I do have such a device, but it is back at my home. Would that be of any service to you?”

Grateful relief washed briefly through her, but some deeper, more primal feeling soon began creeping through her body, blocking her from immediately accepting his offer. She shakes the feeling off and smiles warmly back at him.

“That’d be brilliant! A real life-saver!”

His lips curl into a smile, but there seemed to be something coldly ironic in his face, denying the expression of genuine warmth. He holds out his arm to her, something she really wasn’t expecting and couldn’t think of a way to refuse politely. She delicately put her arm through his, the soft fabric of his jacket brushing lightly against her fingertips. Rotating suddenly on his heel, he begins to lead her at a swift pace, pulling her tight in against his side. His body felt cold to the touch and his muscles felt hard and rigid as stone.

He brought her to a magnificent carriage, drawn by four black horses, who were shifting and stamping restlessly between the traces. Releasing her arm from his grip he sprang lightly into the drivers seat and then held out a hand to her. Feeling very ungainly, she struggled up the step, landing clumsily on the seat next to him.

“Sorry!” she muttered, blushing slightly, “I’m not exactly used to climbing into carriages.”

He merely smiled in response and picked up the reins.

“Can you really drive this through all these trees?” she asked dubiously, wondering how the carriage had even managed to squeeze into the space it was in.

The man threw back his head and laughed, a chilling, maniacal sound, and picking up a long whip, cracked it loudly over the heads of his team of stallions. The carriage sprang wildly forwards, flying over the rough ground and lurching in such a way that she felt certain she would fall out at any second.

Just when she thought this hell-ride would never end, the carriage stopped abruptly just before a set of wrought-iron gates. With a long-drawn out screech, the gates swung open and the man drove his team through at a much more sedate pace.

Night had completely fallen by this time and her vision was partly obscured by the lingering mist, but she could just make out the looming presence of a large, gothic castle. The carriage rolled to a stop by the massive oak doors and the driver turned to look at her.

“We are here,” he said in his strangely light voice. “Please come in and make a use of the facilities.”

He sprang lightly from his seat and turned to offer his hand to her. She did not think this would help her look less ungainly, but nevertheless, took his hold to try and disembark gracefully. She landed in a heap, but was steadied by his grip on her hand and soon realised she was probably standing far too physically close to him. He was looking at her quizzically, his silver eyes fixed on her pale face, upturned to his. She felt transfixed by his gaze and soon felt an almost overwhelming sense of tiredness as her eyelids began to flutter and close.

She suddenly sprang awake, dazed and confused. She did not recognise where she was, her clothes had changed and she felt certain that some number of hours must have passed. She looked down at herself; she was wearing some sort of old-fashioned nightclothes in white. She felt herself beginning to shiver and a physical and emotional cold creeping under the surface of her skin. She looked around the room and surmised it was some kind of lounge and that she was lying on some sort of divan. She did not get any further than this in her investigations when she heard footsteps approaching the room.

“Ah, awake I see,” a familiar voice murmured from behind her. She whipped around to see the man from earlier, exactly the same as she remembered.

“Where am I? What’s happened to me?” she asked in an unusual show of bravery. She felt very trapped and isolated in her seated position and so got quickly to her feet. The man approached her.

“Just one more stage and the process will be complete,” he replied enigmatically, stalking towards her across the room.

“Process?” she replied, her voice becoming tinged with panic.

“Yes. Unfortunately the last stage must be voluntary,” his voice was edged with a resigned irritation. He was within metres of her when she felt her back press against the cold of the stone wall. She froze, trapped by her fear and his physical closeness.

“I have taken from you,” he continued silkily, reaching up to run one of his fingers down the edge of her neck. “But now you must take from me.”

She instinctively reached up to touch her neck, discovering a pair of risen welts. She immediately wanted to look in a mirror, to see for herself what this alien thing on her body was. Over the man’s shoulder she could see a full length mirror and her own reflection. With a sickening drop to her stomach, she realised she could not see his.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered, her gaze transfixed by the mirror.

“I am giving you a choice,” he replied sinuously, reaching out to turn her face towards his.

“Eternal life, youth and strength and unlimited possibilities!” he paused on a triumphant note.

“Or…?” she asked tremulously.

He bared his teeth, the sharp edges of his canines seeming to glint. “Or nothing. I will take the rest of you; consume until there is nothing of you left. No body; no person; no memory. You will not even have existed.” His voice becoming louder and louder and his eyes becoming wide and manic.

She desperately thought over her options.

To reject his offer, do not continue reading as the nasty and dire consequences would be too awful to print.

To accept his offer, continue reading below…

A mingled emotion of fear and curiosity coursing through her veins, she nods her head and looks him directly in the eyes. He takes a silver knife from the inner pocket of his jacket and cuts a deep line across his neck. She leans over and runs her tongue up the line of oozing blood and begins to drink deeply of the wound. She begins to feel a change within herself; a burning, blazing feeling running through her body. She feels powerful, magnificent and yet terrible and terrifying.
The man sighs deeply and drops down dead on the floor. She regards him, no sympathy even flickering through her mind. It is her time now. She drank too much of him. More than he could take. But it is all hers now. All his strength and power. All hers for all eternity. She throws back her head and bursts into maniacal laughter.

THE END.