498 lines
31 KiB
HTML
498 lines
31 KiB
HTML
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
|
||
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN"
|
||
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
|
||
|
||
<html xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>
|
||
<head profile='http://dublincore.org/documents/dcmi-terms/'>
|
||
<meta http-equiv='Content-Type' content='text/html;'/>
|
||
<title>The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat - Chapter 15</title>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.title' content='The Homestuck Epilogues: Meat'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.language' content='en' scheme='DCTERMS.RFC4646'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.source' content='MFW'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.issued' content='{$issued}' scheme='DCTERMS.W3CDTF'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.creator' content='EpubPress'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.contributor' content=''/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.modified' content='{$issued}' scheme='DCTERMS.W3CDTF'/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.provenance' content=''/>
|
||
<meta name='DCTERMS.subject' content='Unknown'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DC' href='http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCTERMS' href='http://purl.org/dc/terms/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCTYPE' href='http://purl.org/dc/dcmitype/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='schema.DCAM' href='http://purl.org/dc/dcam/' hreflang='en'/>
|
||
<link rel='stylesheet' type='text/css' href='../Styles/ebook.css'/>
|
||
</head>
|
||
<body>
|
||
<div id='s15'></div>
|
||
<div>
|
||
<h1>Chapter 15</h1>
|
||
<div class="o-story_text o_epilogue type-rg type-sm line-caption line-copy pad-x-0 pad-x-lg pad-b-lg">
|
||
<p class="Command">> John: Fight Lord English.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">All around you is pandemonium, a
|
||
multichromatic cyclone of shrieks and clashing colors, as Meenah’s
|
||
ghost army claws at the borders of Paradox Space. Wait, that
|
||
<em>is</em> her army, right? It seems like it’s been so long since
|
||
you’ve thought about any of this. But you’re pretty sure this is
|
||
the army you, Meenah, Vriska, and the other Serket were trying to
|
||
raise. So it’s true, then. The juju has finally unloaded you,
|
||
exactly where you needed to be.</p>
|
||
<p>Every screaming body pitches down and goes white the closer it
|
||
gets to the black hole above you. And below, front and center, is
|
||
Lord English himself: the big deal version, pimped up, hulked out,
|
||
and throwing a huge, universe-ending tantrum. Unlike his younger
|
||
form, his eyes aren’t flickering wildly. They’re locked in place,
|
||
an eight ball in each socket. You briefly wonder what that means,
|
||
but your curiosity is interrupted by a massive outburst of
|
||
technicolor dragon breath coming from his mouth. The laser show
|
||
tears its way through a squadron of ghosts led by... is that...
|
||
<em>Tavros?</em></p>
|
||
<p>Seems like an awful choice to lead an army, but what do you
|
||
know. Wasn’t Vriska supposed to be leading the charge? Where is
|
||
she, anyway?</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Listen.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You don’t have time to dwell on Vriska. She’s
|
||
probably somewhere around here, biding her time, waiting to execute
|
||
her masterstroke and finish English off at just the right moment,
|
||
like the cunning bitch she is. No, you can’t think about that now.
|
||
You’re becoming enraptured by the sound surrounding you. Not a
|
||
sound... a sensation. A subharmonic symphony that you can only hear
|
||
in your bones. This is it: the end of Paradox Space. The thing you
|
||
saw in your anime dreams. A hard lump of air travels down your
|
||
throat but you—</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Don’t hesitate!</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Behind you the juju disappears, sucked out of
|
||
reality with a <em>POP</em>. You move your arms in a dumb little
|
||
motion, sort of like jazz hands, and summon up a wisp of wind to
|
||
keep your cracked glasses in place. You then pull one of your
|
||
sickest hammers out of your strife deck. Your teen friends follow
|
||
suit. You cast a glance back over your shoulder at them. They all
|
||
look pretty cool. Rose knitting light around her with the Quills of
|
||
Echidna, Dave with his sword Caledfwlch at the ready, trailing time
|
||
distortions behind him that look, if you don’t squint, a lot like
|
||
JPEG artifacts. Jade’s got her favorite gun cocked and ready, with
|
||
her ears perked up.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="jade">JADE: lets DO this!!!!</p>
|
||
<p class="rose">ROSE: Don’t get overconfident.</p>
|
||
<p class="rose">ROSE: We have to do it exactly like we discussed.
|
||
First...</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">But Rose doesn’t get to finish what she was
|
||
trying to say. Lord English’s mouth roars open and a wave of energy
|
||
blasts through your group. Rose is the only one caught in it. She
|
||
dissolves in slow motion. You can see the outline of her body in
|
||
shadow. One arm thrown up over her eyes, shoulders pulled up
|
||
defensively, cape billowing out behind her. She leaves an
|
||
afterimage of shimmering light in her wake and then dissipates,
|
||
drifting apart like a handful of salt tossed out to sea. You can
|
||
almost hear the cosmic clock counting down, tick tock, and a chime
|
||
to accompany her fate: <em>Heroic</em>.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="jade">JADE: rose!!!! no!!!!!!!!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Jade doesn’t wait to fire. Space splinters
|
||
open around her so loudly it drowns out the fire from her rifle.
|
||
Lord English raises one of his giant, fuck-off hands to deflect her
|
||
anomaly-powered bullets, giving Dave an opportunity to attack. Dave
|
||
raises his legendary blade and aims for the impressively beefy
|
||
torso. It should be a sure hit, like slashing the side of an
|
||
unusually broad, green barn. But he whiffs completely. It’s a
|
||
wonder how such a big man can move so <em>fast</em>.</p>
|
||
<p>Jade inspects her rifle, and tosses it aside. What is she
|
||
<em>doing</em>? With all the powers of a Witch of Space at her
|
||
command, combined with the infinite abilities of a First Guardian,
|
||
she’s still messing around with basic firearms? She makes two tight
|
||
fists and strikes a pose befitting of a warrior about to <em>power
|
||
the fuck up</em>. She focuses, and strains. A doggy snarl rips its
|
||
way through her clenched teeth. A hazy aura envelops her, as space
|
||
buckles and lenses about her form. And then...</p>
|
||
<p>Nothing. No crackle of electricity. No licks of chartreuse
|
||
flame. She searches within, realizes her power source is completely
|
||
unavailable to her. Then she looks up, and it dawns on her. That
|
||
thing in the sky, the hungry black orb gobbling up everything in
|
||
sight... <em>that’s where the green sun used to be</em>. It’s been
|
||
swallowed completely by a black hole. The realization is
|
||
horrifying. She feels suddenly, absolutely helpless.</p>
|
||
<p>Jade opens her mouth to scream for help, but she’s cut off. A
|
||
razor-sharp fragment of reality slams into her back. It skewers
|
||
her, exiting right through the center of the space symbol on her
|
||
hoodie. She chokes and goes limp, encircled by a halo of her own
|
||
blood.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Get in there!</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You’re barely a minute into the battle and
|
||
both your tactician and your most powerful player are down. You
|
||
summon a windstorm to momentarily keep Lord English preoccupied,
|
||
and try to grab your sister’s wrist. Instead, you catch her by the
|
||
hem of her skirt. Lord English struggles to emerge from the
|
||
wind-prison you just whipped up. You can see one of his arms
|
||
flailing just outside the circumference of your storm. Tavros has
|
||
pulled himself to his feet and, recognizing English’s temporary
|
||
state of vulnerability, directs the ghosts on his side to attack.
|
||
No one is paying attention to him.</p>
|
||
<p>Jade is floating away from you. You’re having a hard time
|
||
maintaining your whirlwind, your glasses, your hammer, and your
|
||
grip on her. Lord English’s head has emerged from the apex of your
|
||
storm. He looks directly at you, and his mighty jaw creaks open
|
||
slowly, well beyond the reasonable capacity of any mortal mandible
|
||
hinge. You stare directly down the dark barrel of his throat, which
|
||
readies another terrible laser shot. There’s not much time to
|
||
react.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Make a decision.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You let Jade go. She floats in literal slow
|
||
motion, buoyed by the billows of her skirt. You summon a gust of
|
||
wind and push her farther away from the battle. You’re hit by a
|
||
blowback from the current, and a line of her blood splashes across
|
||
your face. But releasing her has created enough separation, just as
|
||
you hoped. The laser breath passes between you, narrowly missing
|
||
you both.</p>
|
||
<p>You reel back like you’ve just been punched. Your control over
|
||
the storm goes haywire for a second, long enough for Lord English
|
||
to free his gaudy gold peg leg from it and, more catastrophically,
|
||
for you to drop your already broken glasses. You whirl around and
|
||
swing your hammer to bop his horrible, deadly skull back into your
|
||
storm. You can’t really see what’s going on, but you hear a
|
||
gigantic CRUNCH. And then another. And another. It sounds like a
|
||
cereal commercial is playing outside the periphery of your
|
||
vision.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: dave!</p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: what</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: is lord english... eating my hammer?</p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: yeah dude he totally is</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: what the FUCK.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">It’s a true outrage. This isn’t going to work,
|
||
waging battle without your glasses. Lord English has just eaten one
|
||
of your sickest hammers due to your blind folly.</p>
|
||
<p>You take a deep breath and dive down, right into the sea of
|
||
ghosts. You land clumsily, palms first, and do an accidental
|
||
handspring right into a bunch of alternate timeline trolls you
|
||
don’t recognize.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: uh, hey guys. anyone see a pair of glasses
|
||
down here? it’s pretty important.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Everybody shrugs. This gaggle of lost souls
|
||
collectively personifies uselessness. It is inconceivable to you
|
||
that a single one of them will survive this battle. Perhaps it’s
|
||
for the best.</p>
|
||
<p>Behind you, the wind barrier tears open. Lord English explodes
|
||
from his confinement and swings his peg leg through the army.
|
||
Ghosts scatter like bowling pins, many flying into the cracks in
|
||
space. Before the leg hits you, a troll leaps into action and
|
||
blocks the blow. Her trident makes a satisfying ring off the round
|
||
of the peg and sends it skidding backward.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: woah, that was a close one!</p>
|
||
<p class="feferi">MEENAH: shell of time to finally show up</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: sorry, we were kinda busy!</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: er, bit of a weird question but...</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: have you seen a pair of glasses down
|
||
here?</p>
|
||
<p class="tavros">TAVROS: uH, aRE THESE WHAT YOU’RE LOOKING
|
||
FOR?</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Tavros appears behind you and hands over your
|
||
glasses, still in two pieces. You return them to your face so you
|
||
can take a quick assessment of the battlefield.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Take a quick assessment of the
|
||
battlefield.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Oh boy. Lord English, now free from your
|
||
wind-trap, is stomping around, throwing an even bigger shitfit than
|
||
before. The black hole above him is getting bigger. You can see the
|
||
ghosts at the edge of the battlefield tumbling through space toward
|
||
it: distorted, screaming, and helpless.</p>
|
||
<p>Also, Tavros suddenly is leading an admirable charge of about
|
||
six ghosts to attack Lord English’s flesh foot. You wince, because
|
||
you can see what’s coming before it happens. It’s a shame, because
|
||
you didn’t have the chance to thank him for finding your glasses.
|
||
English raises his knee and stomps three ghosts into oblivion. The
|
||
other four, Tavros included, get vaporized in a beam. The ghost
|
||
army seems to be thinning out pretty badly by now. Most of the ones
|
||
remaining are either fleeing or getting sucked into the hole.</p>
|
||
<p>You whip out another hammer. A classic this time, the
|
||
Wrinklefucker. Its boinging pair of irons are hot, hissing, and
|
||
ready for action. You use the wind to propel yourself back toward
|
||
the fray. Dave is slicing papercuts into English’s torso with
|
||
glancing nicks from his blade, but the monster is spry as ever,
|
||
making him a difficult target. You take advantage of his distracted
|
||
cavorting to whack him on the side of the skull. Your hammer
|
||
connects with a satisfying <em>crunch</em>, and he stumbles back,
|
||
but recovers and lunges forward in a motion so quick you can barely
|
||
follow it.</p>
|
||
<p>English grabs the Wrinklefucker with his mouth. You hold on
|
||
tight, but he starts shaking his head rapidly the way a dog with a
|
||
rabbit tries to break its neck. He chomps down hard and shatters
|
||
the hammer’s head, gobbling down the broken pieces. You watch
|
||
incredulously as the giant dude eats yet another one of your
|
||
favorite hammers. Unbelievable. He lunges for the handle in a
|
||
ridiculously greedy attempt to finish what’s left of your weapon.
|
||
You recoil, careening out toward the black hole, but manage to
|
||
stabilize yourself. You look at the handle of your tragically
|
||
masticated Wrinklefucker, shrug, and toss it into the hole.</p>
|
||
<p>Glancing back down toward your foe, you notice Meenah still
|
||
appears to be hanging on, clinging to his left suspender.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="feferi">MEENAH: yo hold on</p>
|
||
<p class="feferi">MEENAH: goin in for the krill</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Dave takes a step back to provide some space
|
||
for whatever killer move she’s got up her sleeve. She raises her
|
||
trident and jams it into the back of Lord English’s neck. English
|
||
reacts as if he’s been stung by a bee. He howls and rears up,
|
||
throwing Meenah off his back with a force that sends her hurtling
|
||
out into space. You can’t track her into the void with your eyes,
|
||
she’s flung so far and so fast. You can only assume the worst.</p>
|
||
<p>Glancing back down, you see English hasn’t wasted any time after
|
||
ridding himself of the irksome Heiress. He has Dave pinned under
|
||
his big green foot and is applying pressure. You’ve got to act
|
||
fast. You flip out another hammer—you don’t care which one—and send
|
||
it flying toward the monster’s face. English quickly whips his head
|
||
in the direction of the sailing hammer, and swallows it whole. You
|
||
rush after it, reaching for another hammer without thinking. The
|
||
brief distraction, aside from providing English with another tasty
|
||
hammer-snack, seems to have bought Dave just enough wiggle room to
|
||
slip out from under the foot, regain his composure, and draw his
|
||
sword.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: john i need a little...</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Dave ducks a wide blow from English’s swinging
|
||
fist. He backs up nervously, holding his sword out in front of him
|
||
with two shaking hands.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: anything</p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: i need a little anything right now</p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: literally any stupid fucking thing you can
|
||
do</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: i’m on it!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You pop your strife deck open and just spam
|
||
the hell out of your remaining hammers. A few excellent hammers
|
||
that cost you a fortune to make, a bunch of shitty hammers you made
|
||
as a joke, and everything in between. With another flick of your
|
||
wrist you spin them around you so fast they form a perfectly
|
||
impenetrable barrier of pure Shitty Hammer. Okay, the barrier’s
|
||
probably not the slightest bit impenetrable, but you’ve gotta psych
|
||
yourself up for this next attack somehow. In your hands is a weapon
|
||
you haven’t thought about in a long time: the Pop-a-matic
|
||
Vrillyhoo. It hums with both tricksy energy and the barely
|
||
contained potential for mischief. You strike the baddest-ass pose
|
||
possible to strike while wielding such a clownish-looking
|
||
implement, and begin your advance.</p>
|
||
<p>However, you’re interrupted by a voice screaming out from behind
|
||
you. It’s half familiar, half... cat?</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">waaaaaaaaaaaait</span></p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You whip your head around just in time to see
|
||
a bolt of orange-and-green energy racing by you like a bullet. It
|
||
slams into Lord English and sends him stumbling.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">im back</span></p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Dave stands there with his sword, absolutely
|
||
agog, his expression perfectly reflecting a blend of horror and the
|
||
total inability to process who or what he is looking at.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">dude i cant believe you dont recognize
|
||
me</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">its me davesprite</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">and also nepeta?</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">now were called
|
||
davepetasprite^2</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">we purrmenantly merged forms and worked out all our shit!</span></p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: oh</p>
|
||
<p class="dave">DAVE: well that sounds fucked up but ok</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Davepeta spreads their wings, sending waves of
|
||
warm light through the battlefield. The light feels comforting,
|
||
somehow, when it hits you. Behind them, Lord English is struggling
|
||
to his feet again, roaring as he rolls from one side to the other
|
||
like a kicked-over turtle. His muscles are so huge it’s hard for
|
||
him to maneuver.</p>
|
||
<p>It would be hilarious, if only all of reality weren’t tearing
|
||
apart at the seams around you. The sky shivers and shakes, raining
|
||
needles of breached matter that burst and shatter at all angles,
|
||
opening new voids where they land. Above the bedlam, Davepeta is
|
||
finishing up an inspiring speech. You realize you tuned most of it
|
||
out due to the surrounding chaos.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">i know it looks pawful right now but we can do it</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">in fact were literally the only ones who can do it</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">after all</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">it is our destiny B33</span></p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Well, that last bit was pretty good, you
|
||
guess. At least you caught the end, which was presumably the most
|
||
important and uplifting part. You and Dave exchange a look that
|
||
silently says all that needs to be said right now. Davepeta is
|
||
right. You three are the only ones left, and there’s no room for
|
||
failure.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Final Round.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">The last leg of the fight proceeds like a
|
||
well-oiled machine. Perhaps a well-oiled machine careening down a
|
||
steep hill toward the edge of a cliff, but well-oiled nonetheless.
|
||
You, Dave, and Davepeta: that’s what you call a <em>team</em>. And
|
||
not just because, upon examining your surroundings, you three
|
||
appear to be the last three living or dead beings left in
|
||
existence. But dammit, you’ll <em>take</em> it. You turn your
|
||
hammers into an efficient spiral, a carousel of ass-kicking, and
|
||
direct its fury right at Lord English’s face. The butts of the
|
||
hammers hit him over and over again, like racking up points in a
|
||
slot machine.</p>
|
||
<p>Dave manages to carve a red line up Lord English’s side, drawing
|
||
real blood this time. The slash snaps one of his suspenders in
|
||
half, and must sever something else too, because the sword makes a
|
||
gristly, meaty squelch when he pulls it out. Dave turns a half
|
||
second too late to avoid getting sprayed by the wound.</p>
|
||
<p>English howls and swipes at Dave. Not wasting any time, you bury
|
||
a hammer in his gaping mouth. Unsurprisingly, it gets swallowed, so
|
||
you throw another one. Now you’re just throwing them into his
|
||
fucking mouth like you’re feeding him Scooby Snacks. It’s a
|
||
gluttonous display you won’t soon forget. You realize you seem to
|
||
be stuck in a cycle and are in serious danger of running out of
|
||
hammers.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: dave...cat sprite thing! help!</p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">coming bro</span></p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Davepeta scrapes their cool Wolverine claws up
|
||
Lord English’s back, and then kicks him in the back of the head.
|
||
You time it perfectly and complete the combo with a well-placed
|
||
Vrillyhoo undercut to his jaw.</p>
|
||
<p>On the snapback, Lord English grabs the head of the hammer in
|
||
his mouth.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: oh no. not again... you...</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: big, ugly oaf!</p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: i really, REALLY like this hammer!</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Maybe it’s the sentiment attached to the
|
||
hammer, or maybe you’re just fed up with this gross pig treating
|
||
your full inventory of hammers like an all-you-can-eat buffet, but
|
||
the bullshit stops HERE, you think. Which is why you refuse to let
|
||
the handle go when English wraps his tongue around it and unhinges
|
||
his jaw with a sick, wet pop. You plant one foot under his nose and
|
||
the other on his mandible and tug back. He makes a guttural sound
|
||
at the back of his throat and sucks the Vrillyhoo deeper in. Your
|
||
heel slips on some drool, and your whole leg skids straight into
|
||
his mouth.</p>
|
||
<p>You twist, off balance, and fail to catch yourself. You only let
|
||
go of the hammer when you feel the walls of his throat constrict
|
||
around your ankles. The pressure sucks you in up to the knees with
|
||
one gulp. Vrillyhoo is in his stomach, and you’re following it down
|
||
quicker than you can even process. Is this the end? No, you think.
|
||
This is such an unfairly <em>stupid</em> fucking way to die!</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">john!!</span></p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Davepeta flashes behind you and hooks their
|
||
arms under your shoulders. They yank you out, clearing your head
|
||
from the monster’s maw at least. But English rehinges his jaw and
|
||
clamps down on your chest. <em>Hard</em>.</p>
|
||
<p>Davepeta reacts quickly, shoving their claws between his molars.
|
||
You can hear them growling as they slowly twist their arm to pry
|
||
the massive jaw open.</p>
|
||
<p>You’re not dead yet, but Lord English definitely got a big,
|
||
sharp tooth in you. Your vision reels and goes blurry, then patchy,
|
||
then dark, then—</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Don’t fucking die.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You pass out for... well, you have no idea how
|
||
long it was. But it was long enough for Davepeta to get you out of
|
||
Lord English’s mouth. You can see their face floating above you.
|
||
They’re just a smudge of neon swimming in a sea of chaos.</p>
|
||
<div class="chat type-rg type-hs-small">
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">wrow you almost got vored to
|
||
death</span></p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: what?</p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">im afuraid to say that you look like total shit my dude</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">you should stay here while we wind this bitch down</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">purromeows me you wont move</span></p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: i... purromeows?</p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">oh hehe</span></p>
|
||
<p class="davepetasprite">DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < <span class="davepetasprite-dialogue">promise</span></p>
|
||
<p class="john">JOHN: oh...</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">Davepeta holds something up to your face: your
|
||
glasses. They tuck them into the front pocket of your hoodie and
|
||
pat you on the head before darting through the air back towards the
|
||
battle.</p>
|
||
<p>You’re woozy and don’t have the energy to stop yourself from
|
||
drifting. There’s blood floating up around you, dilute and bubbly
|
||
in the air like cooking oil in water. It’s yours.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Examine wound.</p>
|
||
<p class="no-indent">You lift your chin and see it: Lord English’s
|
||
gold tooth cracked off at the base and embedded in your chest. It
|
||
must be stuck between two of your ribs, you think, because it hurts
|
||
like a bitch when you try to breathe. You keep your head up and
|
||
watch the battle, but it’s all so indistinct and far away, playing
|
||
out like shadow theater on a wall.</p>
|
||
<p>Dave finds his moment. He rams Caledfwlch into Lord English’s
|
||
chest, all the way up to the hilt. It penetrates his flesh like
|
||
nothing else has to this point. The wound around the blade sizzles
|
||
slightly. The weapon—the unusual material it’s made out of—is
|
||
poison to English. He cries out in a cracked, broken staccato. It’s
|
||
an earsplitting wail that cleaves the last of the Furthest Ring
|
||
apart. Reality falls away from the mooring of the all-surrounding
|
||
white light like a peeled eggshell.</p>
|
||
<p>Dave’s trying to get his sword free but he’s stuck. English’s
|
||
shriek morphs into a sinister, predatory rattle as his jaw creaks
|
||
open. His mouth envelops Dave’s head and snaps shut. He twists
|
||
once, then twice, then again with a <em>CRACK</em>. A disaster of
|
||
blood instantly coats his skull and upper torso. He swallows the
|
||
disembodied head whole with a triumphant gulp. The limp torso goes
|
||
spiraling lazily in the direction of the black hole.</p>
|
||
<p>Davepeta is yelling something indistinct. Or maybe they’re just
|
||
yowling at the top of their lungs. That’s what you feel like doing
|
||
right now, but you can’t move. Your limbs feel like lead. You
|
||
consult your strife deck, but you’ve got nothing left. No hammers,
|
||
no nothing. It’s up to Davepeta, who appears to have plenty left.
|
||
If not in the strife deck per se, then in the <em>heart</em>.</p>
|
||
<p>During the beast’s grisly moment of gloating over the younger
|
||
Strider’s death, Davepeta stands twenty paces behind him, crouches
|
||
low to the ground, wiggles their behind, and pounces. They cling to
|
||
English’s back, wrap their legs around his midriff, draw back their
|
||
arms, and plunge their claws deep into the behemoth’s armpits.
|
||
Their gloved hands end up knuckle-deep in the upper serratus
|
||
muscles on either side. Davepeta then spreads their wings in an
|
||
awe-inspiring display. An unwitting spectator viewing Lord English
|
||
from the front might suspect the garish orange-green wings belonged
|
||
to English himself.</p>
|
||
<p>Davepeta then, with all their might, lifts Lord English into the
|
||
air and flies toward the black hole, trailing ribbons of blood and
|
||
neon. English resists fiercely, but they’re both already locked
|
||
into the gravity well, beyond any threshold of escape. He cannot do
|
||
anything about it, no matter how much he screams and cries. This
|
||
victory, this final sacrifice, has always been the destiny of
|
||
Davepeta, as they have sensed from the moment they were created.
|
||
And to die on this day, in this way, has always been the destiny of
|
||
Lord English.</p>
|
||
<p>The black hole—the gaping, implacable, cosmic embodiment of the
|
||
dead cherub, his long-departed sister—finally welcomes Lord English
|
||
home.</p>
|
||
<p>English and Davepeta are sucked in with a subatomic whimper. The
|
||
reunion sends shock waves across the pitiful remains of Paradox
|
||
Space. And then everything is wholly, utterly, and categorically
|
||
<em>silent.</em> It’s over. Lord English is dead.</p>
|
||
<p>But it doesn’t feel over, somehow. You don’t feel like you’ve
|
||
won. You can barely feel anything, actually. All you can think
|
||
about, for now, is...</p>
|
||
<p>Davepeta. How they were so unfettered and brave. How they
|
||
sacrificed themselves by flying right into the black hole
|
||
like...</p>
|
||
<p><em>Like a fucking piece of garbage</em>, you can almost hear
|
||
Dave saying. May God rest his soul.</p>
|
||
<p>You collapse against whatever is passing for the floor at this
|
||
moment of utterly null corporeal conditions surrounding you. It
|
||
doesn’t feel possible. You’re not sure you can even trust your
|
||
perception well enough to believe it. But it seems to be over.
|
||
You’ve convinced yourself of this truth well enough to allow
|
||
yourself to exhale. Enough to allow yourself to suddenly
|
||
acknowledge the agony coursing through your body, emanating from
|
||
the gold tooth lodged in your chest. Enough to allow yourself to
|
||
succumb to the overwhelming urge to sleep.</p>
|
||
<p class="Command">> Close your eyes.</p>
|
||
</div>
|
||
</div>
|
||
</body>
|
||
</html> |