Showing posts with label Route d'abbaye. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Route d'abbaye. Show all posts
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Hidden Track - Her Majesty
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
Route d'abbaye
Hidden Track
Her Majesty
by
Al Bruno III
Route d’abbaye was gone. Route d’abbaye had never been. The pieces of the game had been returned to their proper places. The Sallow Sultan was back on the corner of Cailleach Road, Jack Diamond was standing in the late evening traffic of Shartok’s Circle clad only in his shirt and boxer shorts, the streetlights slipped back into their proper arrangement with the speed of a passing thought.
Judy Bauer found herself in the broken furniture and slimy walls of the long, squat building on Dannigers Verde. The effects of the sushi and the unexpected translocation made her suddenly and violently ill. By the time the heaving was over she found herself wearing her last two meals.
“Son of a bitch,” she choked and spat.
“We met again.” Dr. Flesh was sitting cross-legged on the floor, “third times a charm.”
Judy brushed at the chunks of goo clinging to her blouse, “Where are we?”
“Dannigers Verde.”
In the far corner of the room a rafter shifted and fell onto a metal table. The sound was like a single toll from a broken bell. The floor was sticky under her feet, sticky with something far more disgusting that her own sick, “What happened?”
“Jason Magwier,” Dr. Flesh said knowing it was the only answer she would need.
“Son of a bitch!”
“That’s what you get for being underfoot. I told you to go back home.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t stay home. I had to go to that damn chapel. Something made me.”
He smirked, “There was a lot of that going on tonight.”
She spat again, “More of Magwier's doing I suppose?”
“He works in mysterious ways.” Dr. Flesh pulled a baggie and some rolling papers from his long coat. He worked in silence as Judy took off her blouse and tried to shake out the chunkiest of the mess it had caught. Her bra was the color of smoke and had a jeweled clasp in the front.
It always came down to Magwier didn't it? Judy wondered to herself what the man had gotten out of his mischief this time. Probably nothing that would make sense until it was too late. She had warned her roommates to stay away from the man. Why couldn't they understand he was no hero? He was just an ageless trickster leaving a trail of dead lovers and wounded friends in his wake.
“...her majesty...”
She shot him a glance, “What?”
Dr. Flesh held a a joint up to her, “I said would her majesty like a toke?”
A sneering comment came to mind but she decided against it. Instead she crouched down beside him took a hit then passed it back. “What was our final score?” she exhaled.
“Thirteen,” Dr. Flesh paused long enough to take another draw off the joint, “no luck on Jack Diamond though.”
She frowned, “I suppose that was too much to hope for.” Judy Bauer straightened up and pulled her clammy blouse back on, “I have half a mind to send Magwier my dry cleaning bill.”
“That would go over well,” Dr. Flesh stubbed the remains of the joint out and got to his feet, “or do you think he already knows?”
“I couldn’t care less,” Judy said but that wasn’t entirely true. She wouldn’t want Magwier to snitch on her to Lorelei, after all good roommates were hard to come by.
Somewhere outside there was a siren and a muffled explosion. It sounded like more rioting was breaking out. She wondered what the cause was this time; politics or fallout from what she had done?
“It goes without saying that regardless of Jack Diamond I expect to be paid in full,” Dr. Flesh smiled.
“But you did say it,” Judy’s expression became imperious, “but don’t you worry. The bank notes are ready and waiting for you.”
“Perfect,” he pulled a handful of random pills from his coat pocket and swallowed them dry, “the sooner I’m out of this fucking city the better.”
Judy said, “Don’t let me keep you,” then watched him leave. Part of her couldn’t believe she’d shared a joint with Dr. Flesh. It was the kind of story she’d be telling in her dotage, assuming she lived that long.
Thirteen. She mused, a number of cosmic mystery, a number that represented an unknown future. It wasn’t necessarily an lucky number but it didn’t bode well for the immediate future. The Lunts, Constabulary and who knows else were going to be looking for the cause of tonight’s mayhem. She was going to have to watch her back, and make sure sweet, silent Isaac helped as well.
Enough was enough, it was time to head home and help Lorelei count her bruises. The gummy floor seemed to claw at her shoes as she walked; a sensation she somehow equated with the low born and the poor.
Something clinked against her toe. Expecting the worst Judy steeled herself before she looked down.
But it wasn’t something disgusting or dreadful, it was a red phial.
She remembered Dr. Flesh saying,“This is a jultomten. Haven’t you heard of them?”
The realization the deadliest of assassins had unknowingly left behind his Demon of If amused Judy to no end. His loss was her gain. She pocketed the red phial and headed out onto the crooked sidewalks of Dannigers Verde.
For a confused moment she thought the landmarks were all wrong. Hadn’t there been a crosswalk here? Hadn’t there been trees and a white Volkswagen parked nearby?
She shook her head, then moved on, navigating the familiar streets of Olathoe with ease.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Track Sixteen - The End
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
Route d'abbaye
Track Sixteen
The End
by
Al Bruno III
Bit by bit, reality fell back into place.
For Lorelei it was like waking up, with each breath, with each blink of her eyes the world slipped back into focus.
Yes, there was her heartbeat, followed by the clammy feeling of the rubber and polythene outfit next to her skin. Next was the pain, the pain of her bruised face and aching gut but at least there was no one standing on her back.
The only illumination came from a streetlight shining in through a nearby window. Lorelei realized she had no idea where she was, but she also realized that since she'd hooked up with Jason Magwier such things were becoming a semi-regular occurrence.
She stood as best she could considering she was wearing stiletto heeled boots- one of which no longer had it's heel. Lorelei steadied herself on one of the room's many wheelchairs and tried to get her bearings.
Wheelchairs?
That got a double take out of her. The room was filled with wheelchairs, all kinds of wheelchairs; antique wheelchairs, modern wheelchairs, motorized wheelchairs and one wheelchair that looked like some kind of BDSM rickshaw. All of them were empty and covered with dust. “You have got to be kidding me,” she said.
“Ah-ha!” Magwier's voice echoed from the hallway, “There you are!”
It took some doing but Lorelei managed to edge her way around and through the tangle of wheelchairs but the missing boot heel didn't make it any easier.
The hallway was no better, just more and more wheelchairs. “What is this?” Lorelei asked, “It's like a traffic jam at an old folks home.”
“Help me here would you?” Magwier panted. Zeth was leaning on him woozily, one half of his face was a caul of blood.
Lorelei fumbled into the hallway, wheelchairs clattered against one another with her passing. “Is he all right?”
Zeth raised his head and glared, “Even for you that was a stupid thing to say.”
“Now, now,” Magwier chided.
“Why are you trying to carry him?” Lorelei said, “Just sit him down in one of the wheelchairs.”
He gave her a quizzical look, “Wheelchairs?”
“Oh for the love of Gaia...” Lorelei look hold of Zeth's other arm and jostled him into a nearby chair. She examined him in the hallway's shadowy light. “You'll be OK. It looks worse than it is,” she said, “but just in case...”
She ran a fingertip along the wound in the old soldier's scalp and whispered a few well chosen words from a forgotten dialect. The laceration began to shrink.
“Thank you,” Zeth's tone was both begrudging and grateful.
“My goodness,” Magwer turned in a circle, “will you look at all these wheelchairs?”
“How about that,” Lorelei sat down beside Zeth and began pulling off the stolen boots, “now where the Hell are we?”
Magwier paused thoughtfully, “Somewhere near Thorn Park I imagine.”
“And how did we get here?” Zeth was using the sleeve of his jacket to dab at the blood on his face.
“I suppose on some level we always were here,” Magwier wove between the chairs, studying the floor.
“Oh here we go...”
Magwier raised an eyebrow at Zeth before continuing his search, “We were here. Jack Diamond was in an empty theater on Coachwheel Lane. The Sallow Sultan was on the corner of Garabaldi and Moon. Dr. Flesh was on Haruspex Boulevard.”
Lorelei was clearing a path for Zeth’s wheelchair, it wasn’t easy and she eventually began grabbing the lighter ones and flinging them out of the way, “Even for you you’re not making sense.”
“Don’t you see my dear? Every thing and every person on Route d’abbaye came from somewhere else,” he paused and bent down. When he came back up he was holding one of the red phials. It was in perfect shape and glowing red, “And why? Because there never was a Route d’abbaye at all.”
Zeth put a hand to his temple, “As if my head doesn’t hurt enough. What you’re saying is impossible.”
“Anything is possible when you have four Serendipity Spirits in the same place. Four spirits working together. Four spirits that are in a sense the same creature.”
“O....K,” Lorelei said. The path to the door was almost clear. This was a hard idea to understand. It was harder still to believe that an entire street had been created specifically for this bizarre little adventure. But on the other hand, why was it suddenly becoming so hard to remember the details of Route d’abbaye? Why was it fading like a dream?
“The Serendipity Spirit wanted to be free so they asked me for help, I was only too happy to oblige... With a few considerations of course.”
“If they...” Zeth began then corrected himself, “If it is free now why is it back in your hand again?”
“Think old friend,” Magwier smiled, “these entities are beyond time and space so their one moment of freedom was all the eternity it needed.”
“So we risked our lives in a place that never existed for an adventure that technically never happened?”
“Indeed.”
Lorelei sighed, “We’ll talk more about this back at your apartment, maybe you can draw up some flowcharts or something. I think-”
A loud wet gurgling noise interrupted her, it was as though an enormous drain was regurgitating a clog and spilling over. A pained expression crossed Magwier’s features.
“Jason...” Zeth began, “How exactly did you defeat that formless hellbeast?”
“Heh... I didn’t so much defeat, as escape it.”
There was a splashing, geyser like sound then a crashing as though wheelchairs were being thrown every which way.
“Here we go again!” Lorelei began wheeling Zeth towards the door, “Run!”
*
The Demons of If turned away from the scene, knowing that somehow its liberators would survive, knowing that this was not The End. Knowing that the time of Jason Magwier’s defeat was still in the future.
But not far in the future, not that far at all.
Friday, May 18, 2012
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Track Fifteen - Carry That Weight
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
Route d'abbaye
Track Fifteen
Carry That Weight
by
Al Bruno III
Several lifetimes ago Jason Magwier had learned that the secret to looking like a master manipulator was to keep a bemused, know-it-all-expression on his face no matter what was going wrong. It was a strategy that had served him well and saved the lives of his companions on many occasions.
But tonight there was no keeping a nervous tick from tugging at the corner of his smirking mouth, “We’re all here now. How wonderful.”
The parlor of the Sallow Sultan looked like a battlefield in a dollhouse; the red and pink walls were spattered with gore and pockmarked with bullet holes. Two corpses, one a guard, one a working girl, lay on the floor; the blood running from their bodies combined and pooled in front of the fireplace.
Jason had expected that....
The front door had been broken down. Zeth and Dr. Flesh were tussling with only a silver war hammer keeping the old soldier from becoming the deadly assassin's latest victim.
Just like Jason had planned it.
Jack Diamond was woozy, confused and on the defensive.
And that was the way Jason preferred him.
First things first. Jason Magwier launched himself off the club chair and tackled Dr. Flesh. The assassin screeched like an animal but before he could wriggle free Jason pinched him on the nose with a hearty “Beep beep!”
Dr. Flesh’s screeching became choking as he went into a full-fledged seizure.
All four red phials were in place, the Constable and Sentries were neutralized, and the china teaset was destroyed. It had all been going so perfectly, exactly as Jason remembered it might happen.
Then he had seen Lorelei lying on the floor with Mustard half-standing on her back with one foot and crushing her hand with his other. She had been dressed up as one of the Sallow Sultan’s working girls and looked like she had been on the losing end a fight.
“And now that that’s taken care of,” the dark-eyed man made a show of getting back to his feet and brushing himself off, “we can all calm down a little.”
“Fuck you.” Jack Diamond said, “Fuck you in your ear.”
Zeth tried to get up but blood was running from a wound in his scalp and his pupils were dilated. He stumbled and only kept himself from falling by using the silver hammer as a crutch.
At this moment Lorelei was supposed to have been standing behind Jack Diamond, that was the way Jason had seen it in his mind's eye a dozen times over. She was supposed to sneak and skulk! But instead she had gotten dressed up as one of the working girls. Now everything was up for grabs...
“Excuse me,” Jason turned on his heel and glared at the old pimp, “but you're standing on my girlfriend.”
“Jason. Don’t let me die dressed like this-” Lorelei began but Mustard ground his heel into her back to silence her.
“Listen you- I don’t know what your game is and I don’t want to be involved!” the old pimp held up a red phial, “you can take this right back!”
Jack Diamond’s jaw dropped. “What the? How did you...” he patted his torn out pocket then caught sight of his red phial lying on the carpet in the center of the room. It was glowing slightly.
Both phials were glowing slightly. Jason started to speak.
...the gun thundered again, the bullet leaving a crater of gristle where Lorelei’s chest had been. Her heart was visible and it shivered momentarily like a dying animal...
The vision was as brief as it was sudden. It was Jason Magwier’s blessing and curse that he could remember all the things that might happen but this vision was different.
This was something that should have happened.
A droning sound began to filter in from the street, a thick syrupy buzz that grew louder and closer.
“Played...” Dr. Flesh stood, he fished the red phial from his jacket. The red glow deepened, “...you played us all again.”
“I’m sure it looks that way...” Jason produced his own phial and held it up, “...but maybe it’s all just a coincidence.”
“There’s...” Jack Diamond said, “...more than one?”
“Listen to me!” Jason raised his voice, with every word his delivery became more and more theatrical, “Mustard- you were going to be shut down any day. They knew about your ties with the bootleg idol business.”
“Well I never!” Mustard huffed.
The distant reverberations grew louder, it sounded like a fleet of helicopters approaching but there was an organic quality to the sound.
“And you Dr. Flesh,” Jason continued, “do you honestly think that if you killed Jack Diamond the Kuen-Yuin would let you leave this city alive?”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll...” Dr. Flesh paused trying to choke off what he was going to say next, what he had to say next, “...carry that weight."
“No!” Jason’s voice was equal parts desperation and exasperation. “There are too many agendas at work here. Do you honestly think the powers that be don’t know what’s going on? The Monarchs? Remember them? The true rulers of this city? Think people! Use your minds... And your ears.”
“Four of them...” Jack Diamond said, “...why are there four of them?”
“We could always set one free and ask it?”
“Very funny,” Dr. Flesh said, “nothing mortal can break these.”
“True,” Jason raised an eyebrow, “if only I had something more than mortal... Something forged by the gods themselves.”
Zeth knew his queue when he heard it. He charged into the center of the room, holding Maxwell’s Silver Hammer over his head.
The buzzing had become a roar somewhere between a mechanical cry and organic thunder. The walls of the Sallow Sultan began to shake.
Maxwell’s Silver Hammer whistled downwards shattering the phial. Each of the other three phials exploded at the exact same moment.
Everything went red.
Reality came apart.
Just like Jason Magwier had planned...
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions): Route d'abbaye Track Fourteen - Golden Slumbers
The Nick Of Time (and other abrasions)
Route d'abbaye
Track Fourteen
Golden Slumbers
by
Al Bruno III
Four now.
Four Spirits of Serendipity.
Four Demons of If.
But still somehow there is only one.
It/They watches Jack Diamond and Lorelei carry out another battle in their never ending feud. They/It hear Mustard’s unspoken vows and curses. It/They shiver with anticipation as Magwier uses the Devil’s Pocketwatch to be in the right place at the right sin.
Almost time now. One last piece of the puzzle begins to fall into place...
*
It was a little after eleven and the streets of Route d’abbaye had gone dark and quiet. There was no street traffic and only a single figure made his way along the sidewalk. Dr. Flesh slowed his pace as he reached the Sallow Sultan, “You made it.”
“I was just going to say the same thing,” Zeth nodded. He was sitting on the front steps of the brothel, Maxwell’s Silver Hammer lying across his knees, “You don’t have to do this you know.”
“I was just going to say the same thing,” the tall blonde haired man replied, “I hope Magwier doesn’t think sentimentality is going to keep me from getting past you.”
“Magwier doesn’t know about what happened between us,” Zeth set the hammer aside and pulled the automatic from his jacket. Gunfire was sure to draw the constabulary but what choice did he have? What other way could he slow the man down?
“Just because you told him doesn’t mean he doesn’t know. He’s annoying like that.” Dr. Flesh looked up and down the street, “What the Hell is all this about anyway? What is his stake in this?”
“He wants Jack Diamond alive,” Zeth took aim at the other man, “he think’s it’s part of the greater good. The long game.”
Dr. Flesh lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone, he leaned forward,“It’s something more than that, can’t you feel it?”
“You’ll feel something if you take one more step.”
“And then what? I’ll put you down like a dog. I’ll put you to sleep. I’ll send you to... Golden Slumbers.” Dr. Flesh choked on the words, “There it is again! Why do I keep saying things like that?”
“It’s that kind of a night,” Zeth stood, “now step back.”
The pistol flared with light. Zeth shouted and dropped the smoldering, suddenly hot metal. Five men approached from across the street. Four carried Ak-47s, their faces were intricately tattooed and they wore dull metal armor. The man that led them was tall, pudgy and dressed in the uniform of a Constable. His waxed mustache was perfect, his gloved hands shimmered with the afterglow of an incantation.
“Allow me to introduce Supervising Constable Loundsberry,” Dr. Flesh said, “He and I go back a ways.”
“You were right,” Loundsberry spoke in clipped tones, “this place is a hotbed of anarchist activity.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Zeth hissed with pain and disbelief, “You called in the Constabulary?”
“Strange bedfellows,” Dr. Flesh said, “something we both know a bit about.”
The Sentries drew closer. The supervising constable spoke again, “Zeth, aka Myron Jules-”
“Myron?” Dr. Flesh snorted with disbelief.
Zeth frowned, “Shut up.”
Loundsberry continued, “-I am placing you under arrest for crimes of a violent and subversive nature. You will be taken from this place and conscripted into the ranks of the Sentries. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“I should have brought more guns.”
Dr. Flesh shrugged, “He always says that.”
The Sentries moved forward again. Zeth grabbed the silver hammer and retreated up the steps to the Sallow Sultan until his back was pressed against the front door. His wounded hand was aching but he held on tight to the only weapon he had left. Then he whispered a prayer to the saints of gunpowder and the firing pin.
Loundsberry’s mustache twitched worriedly at that. He gave the order to open fire.
The AK-47’s clicked hollowly, miss-firing then jamming. Zeth gave them a smile, the saints rarely failed him at times like this.
Then he was moving, charging back down the steps swinging Maxwell’s Silver Hammer. There was a wet crack and he brought one of the sentries down.
The other Sentries crowded in. Zeth jammed the handle into an armored gut, then jabbed forward dislocating an adversary's shoulder.
Now the hammer began to glow as Loundsberry began another incantation. There was a flash, and Zeth’s hand began to sizzle wherever they touched metal.
It hurt like Hell but he was ready for it this time. Zeth rolled under the legs of the one Sentry that was still standing. The armored man hit the ground as Zeth brought the mystically heated weapon up and across the Supervising Constable’s jaw. Bone shattered, flesh burned.
Then Zeth was back on his feet. Dr. Flesh was standing in the middle of a pile of unconscious and wounded men. He looked equal parts annoyed and impressed.
“Right.” Dr. Flesh dove at him.
Zeth dodged the man’s grasping hands, moving back up the stairs.
One touch. One touch from Dr. Flesh would be the end of him. Two years ago that had been part of the thrill but right now the thought terrified Zeth. If he died here who would protect Jason Magwier? The girl? Not bloody likely.
Dr. Flesh grabbed at him again. Zeth used the length of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer to keep his attacker at bay.
The sound of gunfire startled both men. Zeth knew the sound of a Desert Eagle .50 caliber when he heard it.
More shit hitting a completely different fan.
Dr. Flesh caught hold of him, his fingertips grasping cloth instead of skin. Zeth tore out of his jacket and threw himself against the Sallow Sultan’s front door bringing it crashing down.
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