Pocketwatch

[NicTei]

I'd like to point out that 'Pocketwatch' is a working title at best.  I'd also like to point out that this is the only typing I'm going to do before the story starts; not going to ramble a bit in the first post like I usually do.  I'll let you deduce what's going on.

~Table of Contents~
Chapter 1:  Get Up!
Chapter 2:  Stopped
Chapter 3:  Fatigue
Chapter 4:  Murderous Breadcrumbs
Chapter 5:  Listen
Chapter 6:  Ex
Chapter 7:  Ruth
Chapter 8:  Question Him!
Chapter 9:  Decision

[NicTei]

   A sudden noise behind him made Anthony jump to his feet and charge off in the first direction that came to mind:  right.  Hurtling towards Ruth, he only paused for a moment to look back, seeing nothing that could’ve made the noise.  Whatever was in the tool shop seemed to have turned the power saw back on, for a faint, low buzzing noise could be heard.  How on earth the saw was working without time, he didn’t know.  This, of course, brought to mind a question that he had been meaning to ask Ruth, but hadn’t had time between the blows from her shoes.

“Ruth, wait!” he called after her, jogging the rest of the distance between them.  “I’ve got a question I-ugh!”

   Anthony’s sentence was cut off as Ruth turned around and brought her knee up into his stomach, doubling him over again.  Muttering about aiming lower, she started to turn around again, but he grabbed onto her ankle to stop her from going anywhere.  Before she could stomp on his arm, he raised his hands in defeat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  Just answer my question and I’ll be gone, okay?” he assured her.

“Fine, but make it quick,” she retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Biting back the urge to make a comment about how ‘quick’ had no meaning without time’s normal flow, he stood up.  “What were you doing when you realized that time had stopped?” he asked.

“I was taking a shower and realized that the water wasn’t running; really annoying, considering I had a bunch of soap I still needed to wash off,” she answered.
When there was silence for a moment, she slapped him across the face.  “Stop picturing it, you pervert!”

“So, to be clear, no near-death experience?” he asked, nursing his cheek.

“No, why?”

“I was nearly run over by a truck when time stopped,” Anthony answered, wondering if his parents were alright.

“Pity.  Julian should’ve let it go on a little longer,” Ruth muttered.

“Come again?” Anthony asked.

“I said time should’ve kept going for at least a little longer,” Ruth retorted.  “Now go away.  I’m going to try and make a private call.”

   Though he wanted to warn her that there was no cell phone service, Anthony decided against it, figuring that would be at least a small amount of payback for the repeated abuse today.  Falling a safe distance behind Ruth, he continued to follow her, smirking each time she cursed at the phone that obviously wouldn’t work.  After the millionth call, she turned around and flipped him the bird, the obscene gesture simply eliciting a laugh from the intended target.

   Storming off towards the final store in the corridor, the most popular clothing store in the mall, she seemed bent on getting rid of him, though he knew that she wouldn’t be able to if she was still anything like she had been before.  Judging by how hard she’d hit him, she hadn’t changed one bit.  Following after her at a safe distance, he could already picture the route she’d try and take throughout the store to get away from him.  First she’d probably go towards the lingerie, after that the jewelry counter, then straight towards the men’s clothes to throw him off.  He’d seen this routine before, when they went shopping.

   When he passed through the threshold, however, he noticed that there was a new addition to the popular building:  a second level, evidenced by a set of escalators set dead in the center of the complex.  Hoping that Ruth wouldn’t be smart enough to break her established pattern, he started towards the lingerie section of the store, pausing to admire the merchandise before continuing his search for his ex-girlfriend.  His search turned up an unexpected result:  as he stepped towards one of the racks, she jumped out from behind it, smacking him over the back of the head with her heel.

   Yelping in pain, he retreated immediately, though she was already gone, running towards the escalator.  Chasing after her, Anthony made a move only he could possibly make:  he attempted to run up the down escalator, only pausing to wonder why the escalators were still running for a brief moment, realizing that he was going nowhere.  Jumping onto the correct set of moving stairs, he took them two at a time, reaching the top infinitely faster than he would’ve had he waited to be carried all the way up.  Looking around, he realized he had no idea how the top floor was set up.

“So, another Magus?  How annoying.”

   Anthony jumped at the voice.  It seemed to have come from everywhere at once, deep enough that he could’ve mistaken it for thunder were each word not crystal clear.  Looking around uncomfortably, he started walking towards the nearest circular rack of clothing, covered with thin shirts with a garish flower pattern on them.  A seemingly random collection of colored leis had been draped around the sign in the center of the rack declaring that the shirts were on sale.  Stalking forward as quietly as he could, he threw the shirts to the side, seeing absolutely nothing inside the rack.

“Apparently he doesn’t know what he is yet.  How cute!”

   This time the voice seemed closer, though he still couldn’t tell which direction it had come from.  There was a lighter pitch underneath it now, as if a man and a woman were talking at the same time, saying the same exact thing with the same exact arrogant tone.  Now Anthony was more angry than afraid.  He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was losing patience with it.

“Okay, Ruth!  Cut it out!  I don’t care that you hate me, just stop trying to freak me out!” he roared to the seemingly empty store.

   Only silence followed his challenge, and he was suddenly overcome by the feeling of being watched.  Spinning around as he thought he heard something rustling behind him, he caught a glimpse of a shadowed figure just ducking behind a rack of clothes.  Another noise behind him, and he turned again, once more only seeing a brief silhouette disappearing.  Finally, noises began to erupt all around him, accompanied by a deafening whispering from all around, and dozens of shadowed figures danced just out of sight until he snapped, screaming and running towards the exit.

“Stop him!” the voices bellowed.

   Hesitating for only a second because of the force of the voice, Anthony finally regained his composure and sprinted towards the corridor of the mall, intent on finding Zoe again, when a large figure stepped into his way.  Yelling as he collided with it, he began to throw a punch, only to find it stopped by a powerful hand.  Looking up in shock, he saw clearly who he’d run into.

   Standing taller than any other man Anthony had ever seen outside of a professional basketball court, he stared straight ahead with determination.  Stubble covered his strong, square chin, a rough beard that had been shaved recently.  Glancing at Anthony with fierce green eyes, he snorted as he pulled an overly large firearm from his hip.

“If you’re not going to fight these things, get out of my way,” the man rumbled, leveling the gargantuan pistol at the nearest shadow.

   With a deafening bang, the shadow was torn to shreds, black blood splattering the walls.  The barrel of the gun rotated, and Anthony saw that it was built like an archaic revolver, the difference being that the barrel and bullet chamber were all one piece.  Every other shadow in the room froze in place, and the man let a grin split his face, revealing pearly white teeth.  Three more times he pulled the trigger, and three more shadows were shredded by his absurd weapon.  Getting the message, the other shadowed creatures disappeared.  Putting his gun back in the holster at his side, he turned to Anthony.

“So,” he asked, looking him up and down, “who the hell are you?”

<~>

   Julian looked down at the fallen Faceless in distaste, allowing the blade at his wrist to slide back up into his arm warmer.  Brushing a strand of hair away from his face, he looked around at the empty corridor in the mall.  Whatever had begun tearing up his minions was gone now, and he’d lost track of Zoe and…whoever the other boy was.  Glancing at the Mumblers still floating around him in a protective diamond formation, he rubbed his temples as if he had a headache.  Grinding his heel in the remains of the Faceless, he turned and began to walk back in the direction he’d come from.

“Trust the Magus to piss me off,” he muttered in a voice that wasn’t quite his own.

Okay, nothing for Julian right now; just had to add that for a little bit of extra stuff, I guess.  What I'm really concerned about is how Anthony approaches this new dude with an overly large, shadow-killing gun.

And yes, we're back.

[Chinaren]

When there was silence for a moment, she slapped him across the face.  “Stop picturing it, you pervert!

 

SP:  Mmm, I suggest very carefully.  However, he needs to find out what's going on, so he should bug him with questions until he submits.  He seems to be 'on his side' at least!  

Nice to see this one moving again Nice!

[Angel]

Yeah, bug him with questions. Sounds like a good idea. Oh, and follow him around while asking them.

[NicTei]

Again, we've got a pretty unanimous track here, so I'll try and get this one up soonish.

[Chinaren]

Yes, you need to get it up soon. 



 

[NicTei]

   Anthony looked at the spot where the nearest shadow had been a few moments before, then back at the man, who was busy inspecting his monstrous weapon.  After glancing at the black blood that was now dripping from the wall a few feet away, Anthony took a deep breath before turning back to the man, startled to find that he’d started to walk away.  Not wanting to be left alone when the shadows returned, Anthony ran after him, finally catching up just before he went down the escalator.  He noticed that he was being followed and stopped.

“What do you want, kid?” he asked with a hint of annoyance.

“Hey, I’m the one that should be asking the questions!” Anthony answered in what he hoped was an intimidating voice.

   He suddenly found himself looking down one of the barrels of the gargantuan handgun that the man was holding onto.

“I think my little friend here disagrees,” the man retorted, his finger twitching on the trigger.

“Um, okay.  Ask away,” Anthony replied, turning pale.

   Laughing, the man put his gun away, and Anthony took a moment to look him over.  Every ounce of his body was built up with bulging muscles, straining the seams of his outfit:  the high-collared black shirt of a priest, complete with the white ring around the neck.  A holster barely large enough to hold his gun had been strapped around his upper right thigh, the thick leather belts looking as if they’d cut off circulation, but he didn’t seem to be having any trouble walking.  He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before finally shaking his head and looking at Anthony.

“What does the word ‘Faceless’ mean to you?” he asked slowly.

“Aren’t they those creatures that are after us?” Anthony answered with a question.

Instantly, the gun was back on him.  “Why are they after you?” the man asked, suddenly looking more dangerous than before.

   Anthony quickly explained everything that had happened since he’d nearly been run over by the truck, and the priest listened carefully, his finger never straying from the trigger of the gun.  When Anthony began to relate how Julian had reacted when he saw Zoe, shock briefly crossed the priest’s face, but disappeared as soon as it had arrived there.  Anthony finished with meeting the priest here, and took a deep breath; he’d not inhaled while he was talking for fear that he’d be shot if he paused.  The priest looked him over, laughed to himself, and put his gun back in the holster.

“Interesting.  So this Julian kid’s been controlling everything up to this point?  Well, don’t that beat all,” he muttered to himself, glancing at his source of information.

“Er…I don’t believe I caught your name,” Anthony ventured after a moment of silence.

“You didn’t.  I never introduced myself,” the priest answered with a wave of his hand.

   Anthony waited for a moment before realizing that the priest wasn’t going to introduce himself.

“Can you do that now please?” Anthony asked, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Just call me Preacher,” the man answered, looking Anthony up and down.

“Preacher.  How original,” Anthony muttered sarcastically.

“Want to run that by me again, boy?” Preacher asked, putting his hand on his gun.

“Preacher?  How original!” Anthony repeated with a feigned sense of sincerity.

“Yeah, yeah.  Just keep your trap shut or you’ll have every Faceless in the area on us,” Preacher spat, staring for just a second too long at a display across the hall in the window of a lingerie store.

   Anthony nodded, and as Preacher started to walk away, he followed him.  They began heading back in the direction Anthony had come from, towards where he’d last seen Zoe, walking down the hallway towards the exit of the mall.  Some Faceless sprinted across the corridor, but they were gone before Preacher could draw his gun and fire.  Cursing in a way that caused serious doubt about his priesthood in Anthony’s mind, he kicked a garbage can over and continued walking.  Finally, he turned to Anthony.

“This Zoe girl; you know where she is?” he asked.

“Well, she was walking this way last time I saw her,” Anthony answered truthfully.

“Hm…we’ll need to find her before Julian does.  No telling what he’ll do when he finds her again,” Preacher mused.

   They continued on in a tense silence for a while, Anthony jumping at every movement and Preacher twitching his finger on his gun.  Faceless leered at them from doorways, but made no move to attack, simply snarling and clenching their large hands as if imagining wrapping them around the necks of their prey.  Anthony stuck his tongue out at one, but Preacher stopped him with a painful punch to the side of the head.

“Show some respect for the dead,” he scolded, helping his impromptu sidekick back to his feet.

“What do you mean by that?” Anthony asked.

“Doesn’t matter.  Is that Zoe up there?”

   Anthony followed Preacher’s determined gaze and saw Zoe cornered by large group of Faceless, including a few Mumblers.  Remembering his last encounter with the tall Faceless, he started to take a step back, and Preacher snorted, pushing him forward.  Pulling his gun from the holster at his side, he leveled the barrel at the first Mumbler.  Pulling back the hammer, he whistled loudly.  As the tall Faceless turned one head to look at him, a deafening bang preceded a sickening splattering sound as both of the Mumbler’s heads erupted into a fountain of black blood, the tall body crumpling slowly and gracefully to the ground.

   Instantly the other Faceless turned to attack, but they were shot down just as quickly as their gargantuan friend, the gunshots causing Anthony to believe that he was going to lose his hearing very quickly around Preacher.  Finally, there were none of the monsters left, their remains coating the floor, the walls, and more comically, Zoe.  Staring in shock at Anthony’s newfound friend, she didn’t even react when he gave a sheepish wave.  Finally regaining her composure, she wiped as much of the black blood off of her face as she could before slipping and sliding across the floor towards them.

“Please tell me she’s eighteen,” Preacher murmured to Anthony, causing him to do a perfect double take.

“What?” was all he could manage to say.

“I’d rather she was legal than jailbait, but either way I guess it’s fine,” Preacher shrugged, stepping forwards to greet her.

“I’m Preacher,” he said out loud.  “This kid found me and said that you knew a bit about Julian?”
Zoe glared at Anthony for a moment before turning back to Preacher.  “Who’s Julian to you?”

“He started this mess, and I’m here to end it,” Preacher answered coolly.

   Zoe looked at him for a moment with the same imperious glare that she’d fixed Anthony with when they’d first met.  He stared back, a slightly bemused look playing about his face.  At length, Zoe took an uncertain step backwards.

“How do you intend to stop Julian, and what makes you so sure you can?”

“Well, that’s a long story,” Preacher answered uncomfortably.

“We’ve got time,” Zoe retorted, sitting on a nearby table.

“Technically, we don’t.  Time’s stopped,” Anthony cut in.

“Shut up,” Zoe and Preacher snapped in unison.

“Very well.  I’ll tell you what’s going on,” Preacher sighed.

   Moving towards the table, he sat at a chair that positioned him slightly behind Zoe and leaned back, looking up towards the ceiling.  Anthony saw him glance furtively at Zoe’s rear end and rolled his eyes; there was no way this gun-toting pervert was actually a clergyman.  His thoughts shifted to the nightly news a few weeks ago and reminded him that there was a possibility he was, and he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts so he could hear what Preacher was saying.

“I’m what has been called a Magus.  I deal with artifacts of a…sensitive nature, in the hopes that they aren’t used for the wrong purposes.  Or at all, for that matter.  It would seem that your friend, Julian, somehow broke into our vault and managed to steal a most precious artifact,” Preacher began to explain.

“What did he take?” Zoe asked.

“A Pocketwatch.”

   The voice that answered the question didn’t belong to Preacher, and Anthony had the distinct feeling that he was about to soil himself once more as Julian stepped past him, walking straight for Preacher and Zoe while ignoring him completely.  The four Mumblers that had been at his side before glided silently after him, not even so much as glancing towards Anthony.  Nobody moved as Julian pulled a chair away from a nearby table and pulled it up to Preacher’s table, sitting right beside Zoe.  Preacher looked him over carefully, and Zoe didn’t flinch as Julian lightly rested his hand on hers.

“Yes, that’s right.  You stole the Pocketwatch, and you’ve been using it to stop time.  But for what?” Preacher inquired, a smirk playing about his lips.

“That is none of your business,” Julian answered calmly.

“Ah, but it is!” Preacher answered with a wide grin.  “That Pocketwatch was under my care, so I need to get it back before you do something irreversible with it.”

Julian raised an eyebrow.  “You speak as if you can reverse what I’ve already done with relative ease,” he remarked.

“What, do you think I can’t?” Preacher inquired.

“You’d have to kill me and pry the Pocketwatch from my cold, rigid fingers,” Julian answered in an eerie monotone.

“So be it.”

   Preacher stood and ripped the gun out of the holster, immediately aiming at Julian and preparing to the pull the trigger.  In that same instant, a small horde of the shadows that he’d killed in the clothing store swarmed into the small space just before the exit to the mall, turning the rest of the floor black.  Preacher looked down in shock at the clawed hands that were now gripping his boots, threatening to crawl up his legs and tear him to pieces if he even moved another inch.  He glared at Julian, who now looked almost bored and was brushing away some of the black blood that had splattered onto Zoe’s arm.

“You smug little bastard!” Preacher growled.

“I didn’t call them.  The Stalkers seem to have taken quite a liking to you.  You reek of blood,” Julian answered dismissively, not sparing Preacher a glance.

   After a moment of stunned silence, Julian cast a lazy gaze towards Anthony, clasping his hands together and gazing steadily at him.  A thought seemed to occur to him, and he glanced back towards Preacher, not even a hint of fear at the sight of the large pistol’s barrel crossing his face.  Entertaining the thought for a moment longer, he finally turned back to Zoe, seeming to send some sort of message to her through his gaze before looking to Preacher.

“I guess I can let you live and try to take the Pocketwatch from me on one condition,” he said after a moment.

“Let’s hear it,” Preacher said through gritted teeth.

“Kill the boy.”

Okay, not quite 2,000 words, but it was pretty close.  Anyhow, what could possibly go wrong now?  Julian's found poor Anthony again, and even managed to subdue his seemingly uber new friend.  Although that's another question:  can Preacher be trusted?

Suggestions, people!

[Chinaren]

Great chapter Nice!    Lots of little bits of humor inserted too, which I loled at. 

eg:

“Preacher?  How original!” Anthony repeated

Good stuff, and I'm liking this perverted hard ass Preacher guy too, right up my street he is.

Well, the SP.  Mmm, I'd say that Ant would object loudly to this latest development, protesting his 'meaniality', not worth bullets and so on.  hehe.

Perhaps the suggestion was just an opening gambit by Julian, and he'll have another 'suggestion' as an alternative, one that he's really more interested in.  What that is though, I'm afraid I don't know... 

[Angel]

Yeah I'm agreeing on China on all points of the above post.

[NicTei]

   Anthony stared first at Julian, then to Preacher.  To his horror, Preacher seemed to be thinking about killing him; he was looking thoughtfully down at the table in front of him, and his finger was twitching ever so slightly on the trigger of his gargantuan gun.  Finally, he seemed to reach a decision, staring resolutely forward.  Turning to Anthony, he leveled the gun at him, and Anthony felt something warm trickling down his leg.  Zoe stared at Julian in shock, who was in turn glaring at Preacher in mild interest.

“Deal,” Preacher said as he began to pull the trigger.

“Wait!” Anthony yelled.  “Don’t waste your bullets!  I’ll probably die by myself anyways!” he protested frantically.

“Sorry kid.  A deal’s a deal, and I need that Pocketwatch back,” Preacher said with a sadistic grin.

“Julian!” Zoe urged, a scared look on her face.

“Relax, Zoe.  You’ll learn something from this,” Julian said calmingly.

“Stop!” Zoe yelled, and Preacher stopped, rolling his eyes.

“Julian?  Are you going to let me kill him, or is someone going to scream in my ear every time I try?” Preacher asked irritably.

   Anthony watched with growing anxiety as Julian entered a mode of thought once more, staring off into the distance and not seeming to see anything that was going on around him.  Preacher growled and turned to shoot Anthony at last, but one of the Stalkers suddenly jumped and tore the gun out of his hand.  He yelled and started to dive for his weapon, but Julian stopped him with a soft command that Anthony barely heard.  Preacher glared at the boy, who looked so small compared to his muscle-bound form.  Julian was staring back at him, something akin to amusement playing about his eyes.

“I’ve got another idea instead,” Julian said, indicating the seat across from him.
Preacher sat down.  “Well, shoot,” he spat angrily.

“How about a game of chess?”

   Preacher stared at Julian as if he’d grown another head, and Anthony felt much the same.  Was he really going to suggest they play a game to decide whether or not he’d allow time to resume the normal pace?  Try as he might, he couldn’t see any sign that Julian was joking.  Preacher started to laugh until he, too, saw that the boy was serious.  Shrugging his shoulders, he glanced at his gun.

“We don’t have a board,” he said slowly.

   Julian snapped his fingers, and a small group of Faceless disappeared, running down the corridor and around the corner.  There was a distant smashing noise, and in a moment they were running back, a brand-new ivory chessboard in hand.  Nodding, Julian took it and set it on the table in front of him, setting the pieces up carefully.  Then he looked at Preacher.

“Which side do you want?” he asked with a sly grin.

“I’ll take white, since white moves first,” Preacher answered, matching the grin.

   Nodding, Julian turned the side of the board with ivory pieces on it towards his opponent.  Sitting back in his chair, he closed his eyes, motioning for Preacher to stop when he began to move one of his pieces; a pawn, little more than a bulbous head with angel wings on a thin, short body.  Growling, Preacher withdrew his hand.  Julian opened his eyes and grinned again.  Snapping his fingers once more, the Stalkers retreated, along with most of the other Faceless.  The monsters that were left soon assumed a formation not unlike that of the chessboard, with the grunts taking the position of the pawns, the horde of Stalkers splitting into two groups to stand where the knights would be, and the Mumblers filling the other positions.

“I know that some Magus can create golems, but I’m not sure if you’re that proficient yet.  Would you like to borrow some of the Faceless?” Julian asked Preacher.

   In response, Preacher stomped his foot on the ground.  In an instant, a small multitude of stony humanoid figures had erupted from the ground, standing in the chessboard formation.  He grinned back at Julian, not even bothering to look at the creatures he’d just summoned.  Julian glanced at them for a second and nodded, leaning back in his seat once more.  Preacher began to move his pawn hesitantly, and when Julian didn’t object, completed the move.  One of the golems in the front row mimicked the chess piece and took a few steps forward, a few shards of rock clattering to the floor as it moved.

   Julian moved one of his pawns as well, which was nearly identical to Preacher’s with the exception of the wings being more bat-like, though he didn’t take advantage of the two-space jump that pawns have at the beginning of their journey across the board.  The Faceless that coincided with the chess piece moved as well, sitting down when Preacher began to move his next piece, another pawn.  Julian’s next move was one of his knights, jumping over the row of pawns to set it beside the first pawn that he’d moved.  The Stalkers in that position scrambled to their place, always a shifting, amorphous blob of darkness on the ground.

“Lord, this is boring,” Preacher snorted as he moved another pawn into position, creating a perfect row of three.

“That’s because chess is a game for intellectuals, not muscle-bound idiots that carry large guns to compensate for…  Well, I don’t have to say it out loud.  You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Julian retorted, moving a bishop behind his first pawn.

   Preacher growled and moved his queen diagonally over to the side of the board, getting ready to attack the king as soon as Julian moved his next piece.  Julian smirked and grabbed the rook and the king, switching their spaces on the board.  Preacher glared at him and began to reach for his gun a few feet away.

“You little cheater!  You can’t move two pieces at once!” he roared.

“It’s called ‘castling,’ you idiot.  Try playing chess more than once a year,” Julian sighed wearily.

   Julian now had a small fortress of pieces set up around his king, defending it considerably from anything Preacher could’ve thrown at him.  Mimicking the chessboard, the tallest of the Mumblers was standing behind the preliminary row of pawns, as well as the ‘bishop’ Mumbler and ‘knight’ Stalkers.  Preacher moved his own rook as far ahead as he could, placing it right behind the pawn he’d moved at the beginning of the game.  Anthony could already see Preacher’s strategy:  he was going to move all his pieces forward as a cluster to tear down the ‘castle’ Julian had built.

   The game wore on for what felt like hours, with Preacher steadily advancing and Julian merely moving pieces a few spaces or dodging around the large group that his opponent had built up.  As soon as Preacher’s first piece stepped into place, the game erupted.  Julian was the first to attack, taking a pawn with his knight; the Stalkers swarmed and demolished one of the golems  not too far away from the table, showering Anthony with pebbles.  As a counter, Preacher took the knight with one of his pawns, the corresponding golem ending the Stalker’s lives with a decisive, downward thrust of its large, stony hand.

   Piece after piece was removed from the board as the chain reaction of attacks and counters kept going, shards of stone flying through the air and black blood splattering the floor.  Anthony couldn’t tell who had the upper hand, though judging by the focused expression on Preacher’s face and the slight smirk playing about Julian’s lips, his newest comrade was about to lose.  Finally, the last piece had been moved, and Julian sat at the table, triumphant.  He had a single bishop left besides his king; Preacher only had the king.  Julian began to stand.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid you don’t get your Pocketwatch back,” he said with a feigned apologetic tone.

“Shut up and get ready to fight,” Preacher snarled, lifting his gun and shooting the sole Mumbler that remained standing amidst the black blood and stones on the floor.

   Julian stared at the place where the Mumbler had been and reached behind him, flicking the bishop off of the chessboard.  Sighing, he cracked his knuckles and began to walk into the midst of the battlefield.  Preacher followed him, already loading another gun into his clip.

“When the two alphas rise, they must fight to gain dominance,” Julian remarked as he stopped walking, not facing Preacher.

“From chess to wolves?  Good grief!” Preacher muttered before opening fire.

   Ducking under the shots with the inhuman speed that Anthony had seen in their previous encounter, Julian charged at Preacher, the blade already sliding out of his arm warmer.  Preacher watched him coming with a smirk and began to fire faster, causing Julian to dive to the side and jump into the air to avoid being hit.  Still, he charged quickly, not losing his forward momentum.  In a few moments, he would be stabbing the blade into Preacher for a killing blow.

   Laughing like he was possessed, Preacher reached back onto his back and gripped something that wasn’t there, pulling it forward as if drawing a sword mounted on his back.  What was in his hands became visible the instant it was in front of him; it was an overly large shotgun with a rotating mechanism behind the dual barrels, painted completely white.  Leveling it at Julian with just one of his large arms, he pulled the trigger, roaring with laughter as the ground exploded where Julian would’ve been, had he not rolled out of the way just in time.

   Preacher now seemed to have the upper hand, keeping Julian behind various bits of cover as he continued to fire, now using both the shotgun and his pistol.  The noise was beginning to give Anthony a headache (the shotgun sounded like a cannon in the corridor), yet Zoe was still sitting on the table, a mere foot away from both of the guns.  She didn’t seem to know who she was supposed to be cheering on; if Preacher succeeded, he got his Pocketwatch back and time resumed, but that would also mean Julian would likely be dead or gravely wounded.  In that instant, Anthony genuinely pitied her.

   A loud, inhuman roar cut into his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see a cloud of red erupt from Julian’s leg as part of the shotgun’s spray of bullet shards caught him in the shin, tearing the leg of his pants apart and ripping into the skin underneath.  Unable to reach the next bit of cover before Preacher tore it apart with another blast of his shotgun, Julian glared at the large man as he approached, his blade poised as if he thought he was still the predator.  Preacher stood over him, a sadistic grin splitting his face.

“Checkmate, Your Highness,” he sneered.

   A deafening boom resounded through the corridor.

Is this really the end?  Have they really won?
...no.  Probably not.  Of course, that depends on what you guys think happens next!

[Chinaren]

Well, I'd say the explosion is some kind of gas left on, but if time's stopped...

It must be a Mumbler who's fiddled with something.


A strange chapter Nice.

[true_north_son]

Good story

If your prepared to end the story this might be the place to do it.  However, if your looking to continue I'd suggest one of two things;

One:  Kill Julian only to find that stopping what's been started isn't as simple as getting the pocketwatch back.  It could also be that Julian no longer has the watch in his possesssion.

Two:  Julian is spared, likely thanks to Zoe, but no longer has the watch on him.  Even better, Julian could destroy the watch as his last act of vengeance against the Magus.  Who knows what would happen if the watch is destroyed?

Three:  Tony's ex either has the watch or is the key to finishing this business (either good or bad).  I mean she needs to have some purpose aside from being eye candy....then again

Looking forward to the next chapter!

[NicTei]

Thanks, TNS!  I didn't realize before that I could've ended it there as one of those open-ended shorts.  Still, I think I've left a little too much unanswered, so I'll stick with going on.

Tragically, I can't kill Julian.  That's all I'll say in regards to your suggestions, though your third suggestion (out of the two you proposed ) could be tied into either one.

A few more suggestions and I shall toss up a poll.

[NicTei]

Er...right.  This one.  I'll be continuing this one pretty quickly here as soon as I've decided on a course of action.  In all likelihood, I'll be going with China's suggestion that a Mumbler has fiddled with something, though Tron's second suggestion, what with Julian being spared and not having the watch in his possession is a good choice, too.

Oh, what the heck.  I'll put 'em together.

[Chinaren]

Finally!

and...

In all likelihood, I'll be going with China's suggestion that a Mumbler has fiddled with something,

You know it makes sense. 

[NicTei]

   Were time not already stopped, Anthony would’ve had to slow everything down to see exactly what happened in the nonexistent moments after the explosive noise attempted to shatter his eardrums.  Zoe had hurled herself forward, knocking Preacher’s guns off-target enough that his shot missed Julian entirely, blowing a large crater in the floor behind him.  The gunshot, however, wasn’t the source of the noise; there was a hollow echo behind it that suggested that the noise came from further away.  Perhaps in another part of the mall, even.

   Snarling, Preacher shook his arm furiously, trying to force Zoe to let go.  She held on tightly, lashing out with her legs in a futile attempt to subdue to Magus.  With an almighty grunt, he lifted his arm high into the air and swung it as hard as he could towards the ground.  Zoe released her hold on him before she could be slammed into the tiles, but Anthony wasn’t quite sure if she’d done so on purpose or not.  All he was sure of was that she flew across the corridor, stopped only by one of the thick shop windows.  In stunned horror, he turned slowly to look at Julian, already guessing what was going to happen.

   Quiet fury emanated from the boy’s entire being as he slowly stood, completely ignoring the wound on his leg.  His pant leg was now soaked with blood, and Anthony was sure that he wouldn’t last long if he didn’t staunch the bleeding.  Of course, that was before he remembered that Julian was scary beyond anything he’d ever seen before, and if someone could survive bleeding out, it was him.  Though he was looking straight at Zoe, Anthony had the impression that Julian’s attention was focused entirely on the two guns that were now leveled at him.  The blade was still extending from his arm warmer, and one of his fingers twitched.  Everything then exploded.

   Julian was in front of Preacher, blade flailing through the air in an erratic pattern at dizzying speeds.  Unable to put enough distance between himself and the boy to line up a good shot, Preacher began to step back, Julian moving along with him.  No rage was visible on his face, but for some reason that made him even more frightening in Anthony’s eyes.  Finally, Preacher let out a frustrated cry and lashed out with his foot, intending to kick Julian away so he could shoot him.

   With the grace of a well-trained dancer, Julian jumped into the air, pushed off of Preacher’s leg, and leaped into the air, touching down behind the supposed priest.  In the second that his foot touched the ground, he spun around and lashed out once more with his blade.  Preacher cried out and stumbled forward, a shallow wound stretching from one shoulder blade to the other.  Now off balance, he was helpless as Julian continued the assault.  The initial strike was followed by a quick stab to the side that caused Preacher to bend towards the wound, but by that time Julian was already on his other side, stabbing him between his exposed ribs.  As he drew in a gasping breath, Julian strafed around to his front and punched him solidly in the chin.  With a final spin, the boy slit Preacher’s throat.

   For a moment he stood there, drenched in his enemy’s blood.  He glared at Anthony, as if vowing that he’d kill him if he so much as twitched, before collapsing to the side, his wounded leg finally giving out.  Breathing hard and feebly reaching for his bleeding shin, Julian still managed a fearsome, intimidating aura.  Giving up on his own wound the moment he glanced at it, he turned to face Zoe, who hadn’t moved since she hit the window.  A wide spider web of cracks in the glass highlighted the point of impacted; Preacher had thrown her harder than Anthony thought.  The sight of Julian clawing his way towards her, dragging his now useless leg, was almost pitiful.

   A loud, familiar bang resounded through the corridor, reverberating painfully in Anthony’s skull as he turned towards where Preacher had fallen, filled with a mixture of joy and sheer terror.  The priest was now pushing himself to his feet, using his shotgun as a crutch.  His gargantuan handgun was outstretched, and he’d once again missed Julian by a hair.  No wounds were visible anywhere on him, though he was still covered in his own blood.  Anthony thought he looked slightly pale, but wasn’t about to say it out loud.  He was still soiling himself, after all, and being shot or having the undead Preacher screaming at him would just be adding insult to injury.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Julian.  I thought your leg was useless, but you still managed to kill me.  Do you know how many ages it took for me to get that third life?  I don’t.  And I lived them.  Arcana will never let me live this down,” Preacher was snarling as he advanced on his opponent.

“So I have to kill you two more times?  You Magus are starting to become more of a hindrance than I thought would be possible,” Julian seethed, trying to stand but failing miserably.

“And that girl of yours; I ought to kill her, too.  That was obstruction of justice,” Preacher mused, ignoring Julian’s remark.

“You wouldn’t touch her,” Julian answered dangerously.

“Of course, I wouldn’t do it intentionally,” Preacher continued aiming his handgun.  “I take a shot, but with all the blood in my eyes, I miss and accidentally blow her pretty little face off.  Or perhaps my shotgun misses and rips her chest apart instead?  That’d be such a waste, though.”

“I will only give you one chance to stop,” Julian snarled, but he was cut off by another gunshot, this one opening a crater in the tiles dangerously close to Zoe’s extended hand.

“I’d really rather not kill her before I’ve had a shot at her.  I know she’s probably not legal, but I can manage memory wipe spells just as easily as I can kill the two of you right now,” Preacher went on.  “I’ve had a major dry period, so I’m really not that picky anymore, as long as they’re not too young.”

   Anthony had heard enough, and so had Julian.  With a bestial roar, Julian erupted up from the ground, slashing frantically with his blade, apparently hoping that he’d hit a vital spot.  Preacher smirked, took a step back, and pulled the trigger.

   An empty click caused his smile to fade into horror as Julian stabbed him once in the shoulder before cutting a thin line across his chin.  Cursing, Preacher shoved clumsily at his enraged adversary and fired a haphazard shot with his shotgun.  Julian was rocketed backwards through the already damaged window as the spray of bullets impacted his chest, and Preacher, though he was breathing deeply, grinned triumphantly.  Until, that is, Julian pulled himself out through the shards of window, stepping carefully around Zoe.

   His chest was a mess of red blood and tattered scraps of flesh, with bits of white bone showing through.  As Anthony watched, however, something a shade of purple so dark it was almost black slithered across the gaping wound, and before he could manage to cry out, a mass of purple tendrils had begun to swarm out of Julian’s chest, writhing around for a few seconds before finally closing the wound.  A similar phenomenon occurred in his wounded leg, though the only indication was something poking briefly against the fabric of his jeans before he stepped forward, blade at the ready.

   Preacher stared at the very disturbing sight before him, his mouth opening and closing in a manner reminiscent of a fish.  At length he reloaded his pistol and began firing, but Julian was ready.  A large, insectoid appendage erupted from his right shoulder and bent to cross his chest, the armor-like exoskeleton easily shrugging off the bullets.  There were only two joints in the limb:  one where it protruded, and the other joint halfway between the origin and the tip.  The second half had the appearance of a large curved blade, inky black to contrast the rest of the limb, which was the same color as the tendrils that had closed his wounds.

“You look so frightened,” Julian mocked.  “Surely you’ve seen far scarier sights than this?”

   Anthony realized that there was something very different about Julian’s voice.  There seemed to be a higher voice speaking alongside him, as well as a lower voice.  The overall effect conjured the image of a cartoon baby and James Earl Jones standing beside him and speaking when he did.  Preacher seemed to notice as well, and took a step back, tightening his grip on his guns.  Julian looked back to Zoe, who still hadn’t stirred, before returning his attention to the Magus.

“You’re just a freak,” Preacher muttered nervously, aiming his gun at Julian’s chest.

“What?  You can call me a freak?  You pretend to be a priest, but talk about ravaging an underage girl.  Not to mention the bloodlust that pours out of you,” Julian retorted lazily, inspecting his wrist blade.  “This is pretty redundant now, isn’t it?”

   Preacher suddenly began to fire, though as before the bullets were easily stopped by his new appendage.  He began to walk forward, the bladed limb crossed in front of him like a shield and moving ever so slightly to block any bullets it wouldn’t have been able to stop.  Preacher matched each of Julian’s forward steps with a backward step, accented by a gunshot by either his shotgun or pistol.  When he suddenly ran into the wall, his eyes widened for a split second, and he began to pull the trigger as fast as each gun would allow him.  The barrels of the handgun were spinning so fast that his shots couldn’t possibly have been accurate.

   Within moments, Julian was up in his face, an eerily calm expression on his face.  Wrapping his fingers around Preacher’s throat, he knocked each gun away with his new limb and lifted the so-called priest into the air, staring at him for a moment before tossing him up with relative ease and executing another quick spin, the bladed limb slamming into Preacher’s side and hurling him down the hallway.  He hit the ground and didn’t get up, and Julian turned his attention to Anthony.

“Your turn,” he said in his tripled voice.

“But I didn’t do anything!” Anthony protested, backing away quickly.

“Guilt by association,” Julian replied simplistically as he took a step forward.

Uh oh.  Looks like Anthony and Julian still can't manage to get along.  Oh well; boys will be boys, eh?
With a now scarier Julian to deal with, what's Anthony's course of action?  Zoe isn't conscious to save him this time, and Preacher just got his butt handed to him on a silver platter.

Author's Note:  I know I said I'd probably do a combination of Cren and Tron's suggestions, but upon reaching the end of the chapter I realized I'd forgotten to include those parts.   We'll just say that a Mumbler found a lighter that had been frozen in the 'on' position just as it had a really big fart.  Like, a fart that would strip the varnish off of a footlocker.  A real doozy of a fart.  I mean, if you were around this fart, you'd have to be wearing bio-hazard gear to prevent your skin from being melted.  A fart that would make all other farts say "Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude!  That is raunchy!  It smells like someone took a sh*t on a spice rack, ate the sh*t on the spice rack, then sh*t it all out again!  And then took another sh*t on the shat-out sh*t on a spice rack!"  That's how bad the fart is.  So yeah.

We'll also say that Julian doesn't have the Pocketwatch on him.  Or perhaps we'll explore that in a later chapter.  Along with the farting Mumbler, which I assume is now an ex-Mumbler.  'cause really, that was a rancid fart.  Farts like that kill kittens.  Almost as effectively as watching porn does.  So remember:  every time you watch porn (especially the Japanese X-rated cartoons), a kitten dies.  Yup.  The life of poor little Milo is on you, bud.  Way to go.

[BlackCat]

Haha   

[admin]Also very spam Cat. Please post constructive feedback. [/admin]

[Chinaren]

Good chappy Nice, though you repeated 'air' at one point.  Also I'm not really convinced about the first part of the fight, where he's trying to back away to use the guns.  I mean you can use guns at point blank range too you know!

Anyway, I'd say he uses the girl as an excuse, I mean someone's got to look after her right?  Good job Anthony's taken a first aid course eh?  Ahem.

Whilst A is pleading, that gives Preacher time to come back on life 2 (assuming he died the last time), and whilst they're arguing again, he can leg it with the unconscious chick.  And who knows what liberties he may take with the girl out cold.  Mmmm? 

[NicTei]

Good chappy Nice, though you repeated 'air' at one point.  Also I'm not really convinced about the first part of the fight, where he's trying to back away to use the guns.  I mean you can use guns at point blank range too you know!

Well, the shotgun isn't sawed off, so it's got quite a long barrel, and my excuse for the handgun is that it is quite large, so with Julian close enough that he could stab Preacher with a six inch blade on his wrist, Preacher would have to do some pretty interesting manuevers with his arms to line up a shot, which would probably kill his wrists, given teh side of the gun and the kickback that should be associated, but I haven't actually 'shown' so far.

Anyway, I'd say he uses the girl as an excuse, I mean someone's got to look after her right?  Good job Anthony's taken a first aid course eh?  Ahem.

Whilst A is pleading, that gives Preacher time to come back on life 2 (assuming he died the last time), and whilst they're arguing again, he can leg it with the unconscious chick.  And who knows what liberties he may take with the girl out cold.  Mmmm? 

...now I want to write more of this.  Although Preacher is starting to sound more like a villain...

And on a different note, I wrote that Author's Note last night sometime around 1:30 am after a grueling day of work, so for all intensive purposes, I was drunk.  Okay, the equivalent of drunk.  At any rate, I reread it and have been wondering just what I was on last night, and how I managed to actually make it to my bed.  No doubt I'll find something horribly out of place.

[Chinaren]

and how I managed to actually make it to my bed.  No doubt I'll find something horribly out of place.

That's the fun part about writing drunk, you forget what you wrote and it's a surprise to you.  I forgot an entire chapter of Full Gloom recently, due to writing it drunk and then closing the file. 

[NicTei]

I think I'll make a point of only writing drunk, then (when I'm of legal age of course).  That way I can read something new every day even though I'm the one who wrote it!

[Chinaren]

I think I'll make a point of only writing drunk, then (when I'm of legal age of course).  That way I can read something new every day even though I'm the one who wrote it!

Excellent concept Nice!  I'm totally on board. 

[NicTei]

Okay.  Still waiting for maybe one more suggestion on this, but I won't wait too much longer.  By the way, were the notes at the end of the chapter appreciated at all?  I thought it was mildly funny when I wrote it, and still think it has some entertainment value, but I dunno if I'll do it in subsequent chapters.  That one just sort of came to me.

[true_north_son]

I liked this chapter and found the "epilogue" rather funny.  Just me, but I understood the scene where Julian was too close for Preacher to get a shot off.  I was thinking of the rule (not sure how accurate it is), that you can close the gap between yourself and someone with a firearm with little risk of being shot if your under 10 metres away. 

As for suggestions: One: Our man Anthony needs to think fast and/or have a horseshoe stuck up his ass to get out of this one.  I'm thinking Zoe finally wakes up and intervens.  Might be time to get her back in the game.

[Chinaren]

I liked the notes.

and..

Yay!  Tron is back!