JJ sighs. What could've been a great escape is now ruined. Pacing around his room, JJ tries to figure out what went wrong. "Was it the carburetor? Or was it the radiator?" he asks to himself. It's not like he actually understands what those parts are for or what they mean as he'd driven mainly electrics until right now. His head spins thinking about what he should do, what he's supposed to fix, and what kind of accursed fate led him to this dreadful circumstance. He turns to his computer. Turning it on, he moves his cursor towards the browser, hoping there's a tutorial on how to fix a car somewhere. As he typed the search query, he's caught off-guard by the search history. TeleForums.com. He stares blankly at the search suggestion. Before he even knew it, he had clicked on the site. It felt like a strange force had taken a hold of him. Logging into his account, shivers shoot up his spine, followed by grief, self-loathing, nostalgia, and other emotions that are too complicated to list. The site looked much different than it did about 9 years ago, but he's still got the hang of it. He clicks on 'Your Room List', 9 rooms appear. At the very top of the list is mesotele's vibe room.
"My God, it's still here," he mumbles under his breath.
Without further ado, he clicks it. It has about 15 more people than it did 9 years ago; albeit still as quiet as it was due to the happenings, other than that, it'd practically stayed the same. Mesotele is still the owner, him and Yorkgetter are still admins, and the board layouts are still exactly the same. For a moment, he revels in the nostalgia, then clicks on the chat bar.
[ADMIN] jjbongs: ayyo waddup
[OWNER] mesotele: holy shit
==06:55 P.M.==
"His dead body was just, laying there, no wounds, no cuts, nothing!", Arnest said in a thick Texas accent.
Fixing her hair, Ruth interjects, "Are you sure?"
Arnest starts to get antsy, "I am one-hundred and ten percent sure, darling. Just take a gander!"
"I did," Ruth says sternly, "there were cuts and bruises all over the damn thing."
Everyone at the table silently gasps.
Arnest slams the table, "Slander! Slander, I tell you!"
Prill pulls him back to his seat, "Calm down, it's just an accusation. There's no real guarantee that you'll be-"
"My life is on the line, dumbass!" Arnest cuts her off.
"We know. Look, Arnest was with me at the gas station. There is no way he could've killed him," Vez says, sensibly.
==01:45 A.M.==
In the dark of the night, Arnest is laid carefully across the train tracks. The train, inifinite, ever-growing, comes closer. The loud rumble shakes the earth like a quake. Ruth, Prill, and Vez stands solemnly as death barrels towards the still sleeping Arnest with speeds incomprehensible to man. And in less than a millisecond, Arnest is turned to dust. Ruth stood true to her words of him being the murderer. Prill is trying to console Vez, which is currently having a mental breakdown over Arnest's demise. Ruth couldn't stand hearing Vez's woes of sadness. She leaves him to Prill.
Ruth partly regrets her decision. But what had to be done, had to be done. And nobody can turn back time. Eventually, the crying stopped. Yet, there was an eerie quiet. A quiet Ruth has never experienced before. Well, of course she's glad Vez's breakdown was over, but there was something off about it. She hears footsteps coming closer. As she's about to check it out, a knife is plunged into her neck. She sees Vez, holding the corpse of Prill, seemingly strangled to death. Vez's tears were flowing, quite violently, might I add. Yet he wasn't crying. He just stood there, holding a knife, plunged into Ruth's neck.
Ruth eventually succumbed, uneventfully. The world has gone completely silent for Vez. It felt like the universe just paused. Even though putting their bodies on the track makes for a more efficient disposal, Vez decided to bury their bodies, as some sort of gruesome memorial. As he dug, and buried, and had another breakdown, time didn't move a second since he plunged that knife into Ruth's neck. He sits on the front porch, staring into the pitch-black abyss around him. He wants to cry, but his tears has completely dried up. The world echoes a tune, a chord. Something that sounded, triumphant.
The world is almost in complete darkness. A translucent figure comforts Vez as the sky spells out the word:
V I C T O R Y
"The locomotive's busted," Lor said fiddling with the breaker, "we gotta walk."
"Walk? You're kidding right?" Kal gets up from his seat, "Abenneville's still hundreds of miles away, and you expect us to walk?!"
"Well, what else are we gonna do? Sit here?" Lor turns around to face Kal.
"Of course not, you idiot! We are going to fix this locomotive even if it's the last thing we'll do," Kal says sternly.
"We don't have the parts to do the maintenance necessary to get this thing running again!" Lor says angrily, "Not to mention, we're in the middle of a fucking desert!"
Gina shifts forward from her seat and raises her hand, "What if we try hitchhiking?"
Kal turns to Gina, "And what? Get robbed? Kidnapped? Tortured? Ra-"
"Will you shut up for a second?" Gina cuts Kal off, "We have weapons that can obliterate a human skull with a pull of a trigger."
"Do you seriously think those bastards have a chance?" Gina says, smiling like a psycho. Kal thinks for a moment, then starts smiling too. The brother and sister turns to Lor, their sinister grins turns persuasive.
Lor rolls his eyes and leans onto a wall, "Can we please not resort to murder?"
"No," Kal and Gina says at the same time.
Lor's face turns to a bitter smile, then a light chuckle. Those siblings are always a treat to behold. Looking out the window, Lor spots a car heading their way. With a heavy heart he gets off the locomotive, walks over to the side of the road, then raises his arm and thumb. The car heading their way stops and the driver rolls down the window. With a sigh, Lor asks,
"Are you heading to Abenneville?"
A retrofitted Citroën DS zooms through an empty desert road. In the front seat, a young woman who introduced herself as Doria. Next to her, sitting flat-faced, is Lor. In the back seat, the siblings, with a large, Cheshire cat grin. Next to the siblings, is a robot, seemingly trying to ignore the circumstances their exposed to by staring out the car window. The robot's head periodically turns to the siblings, before snapping back to the window, silently hyperventilating.
The robot turns to Lor's seat, "Hey, Mister Lor, uhm, are your, uh, kids always this creepy?"
Lor shifts in his seat, "They're not my kids."
"Oh, uh, then, who are they, to you?" The robot turns back to the window.
"Dunno, I just found them on the street wielding massive guns," Lor chuckles lightly, "so, why not, right?"
"Are you kiddng me?" The robot's head turns back to Lor, "Do you have any self-preservation?"
"Nope," Lor answers with a smug smile.
"That question was rhetorical, dumbass," the robot turns back to the window, annoyed.
Lor giggles, "Yeah, no shit."
Doria giggles as well, "My goodness, what's with the sass, Kirk?"
"You deadass just picked up some crazy rando's from the street," Kirk shifts to the edge of the seat.
Doria rolls her eyes, "Yes, and? They're not hurting anyone, more or less you."
Kirk puts both of his legs on the seat and slowly faces away from the siblings, "Fine, touche."
Night falls on the long desert road. Kirk and the siblings are fast asleep. Lor is slouched to the window, scrolling through his phone. Doria is still driving, energetic as ever. The Milky Way illuminates the uncomfortably flat desert. Nothing but road, sand, and darkness for an unknown amount of miles. It's an eerie beauty. Through the nothingness, a sign can be seen at the side of the road. Rest Area, 7 miles. Lor looks away from his phone and turns to Doria.
"You ever get tired?" Lor starts the conversation.
"Heh, not really," Doria responds, peering slightly at Lor.
"Damn, gifted," Lor looks at the glimmering sky for a moment, "Wait, so you're not human?"
"Of course I'm not," Doria chuckles lightly, "If I were human, why would I be going to Abenneville?"
"That's true," Lor leans forward on the dashboard, yawning.
There is silence for a moment.
Doria starts changing lanes, "Well, I don't get tired, but y'all sure as hell do. Why don't we take a break at that rest area?"
"Yeah, sure," Lor raises the OK-hand.
The Citroën DS pulls into the rest area. Doria parks at a spot near the food court and gets out.
"I'm gonna go get something to eat. Uh, you wanna come with?" Doria asks, halfway out the door.
Lor looks away from his phone and to the food court, "I guess."
A short walk through an empty parking lot and they're there. The food court, oddly enough, isbustling with life. This rest area is one of the closest to Abenneville, and there were no cars to be seen, you'd think the place would be abandoned. Though, it seems like it had gone through better days. Every plant in the surrounding area are wilted and turned into an unnatural purple. Some of the lights are either turned off or ripped from their socket. Lor can see the train tracks in the distance. Entering the food court, all eyes turns to Lor and Doria.
"Well, look who decided to show up!"
An array of flora sits neatly within a large greenhouse. Though, 'large' may be an understatement. The greenhouse towers up to five-stories. A large main atrium in the center splits the floors above it into wide promenades. On the perimeter of the atrium, large beams hold up the promenade. The promenade structure are further supported by more columns, with criss-crossing arches between them. The flora, arranged taxonomically, lines every floor. From radiant orchids to mossy blooms, almost all are present within these glass walls. Not only that, many different flora from other universes are also present. The plants are laid on large, wide tables, with spaces in between for ease of access. Taller plants acts as some sort of natural wall, creating a corridor-like feel to some parts of the spaces. And the main focal point of the structure, a massive tiger orchid hanging from a central dome in the atrium, reaching all the way to the ground floor.
As grand and luxurious as it sounds, the main goal of the structure is for conservation and research of flora and agriculture of different universes. So, these structures are more functional rather than aesthetic. There are fifteen of these structures, in a five by three arrangement. It is surrounded by other buildings, such as a research complex, a waiting room for guests, and even a small auditorium. The whole complex is located on a floating island not too for from the main island. The only way to get there is either through flight or by traversing the somewhat precarious metal bridges that are laid across several different islands. The complex is also relatively new, especially compared to other buildings in the Last Place. Hell, the aforementioned metal bridges suddenly appeared about 3 years ago for no reason. But the structure has stood the test of time and will probably remain there for the next few eons.
Within one of the greenhouses atrium, is a man tending a patch of extraterrestrial cacti. The man, usually referred to as Kopan, was born from a Coelogyne pandurata orchid after the desperate prayers of his infertile parents. But due to complications within the divine bureaucracy, he was born defected. Long story short, his head is now the flower of a Coelogyne pandurata1. Or at least that's how the folktales go. Kopan is considered one of the pioneers of interdimensional flora conservation, along with his colleague Julia. He was the director of the complex up until a few decades ago when he stepped down and appointed Julia as director. He lives a relatively quiet life within the densely packed suburbs of the Last Place. After finishing up tending the cacti, Kopan moves on to the next plant he needs to tend, a large pond of Victoria amazonica, giant water lilies. Kopan observes and checks the water lilies for any damage or infections. As he ducks down to check the underside of the leaf, the loud noise of the greenhouse's sliding doors aggressively opening surprises him, causing him to slip and fall into the pond. Struggling to get out of the pond, he recognizes the one who opened the greenhouse doors. He lets out a short sigh, then a chuckle.
"Ayy, Koop, Julia said that you'd be here!"
A short figure power walks towards Kopan, he seems to be wearing a short, hooded robe with a graphic on its front which looks to be very oversized, messily tucked into beige cargo shorts. A small rope wraps around the shorts and acts as a belt, securing the robe. Trailing behind him, is a much larger figure. Wearing a dark grey trenchcoat, along with knee and elbow gear, his mere presence intimidates passersby. Underneath the trenchcoat he wears a faded camo tanktop and a sword holder belt. The shorter figure walks up to the pond Kopan is in and hands him a large bag.
"Here's the plants!" the shorter figure loudly says.
"Ah, right, heh," Kopan climbs out of the pond, "I almost forgot."
Kopan takes the bag of plants from the shorter figure's hands. The shorter figure, named Leofsige, commonly referred to as Leof, is a senior refugee from a universe that experienced heat death too early in its lifetime. He hasn't lived in the Last Place for as long as Kopan has, but he knows his way around. Ever since leaving the melancholic refugee camp, he has been learning magic and sorcery at a local mage academy. He's not as good as other sorcerers from higher schools, but he's content that he still can protect himself. The taller figure stops right behind Leof. He raises his hand briefly to greet Kopan. Mononymously known as Maha, at first glance, one might assume that he's some kind of Withstander in training. But no, he's just Leof's classmate and best friend. Being over a foot taller than Leof, the two form a comically cartoonish duo. The large, wise, powerful warrior and the chaotically stupid mage.
Kopan arranges the plants from the bag on a table at the edge of the atrium. Tradescantia spathacea, Astilbe chinensis, and many others. While arranging the plants, Kopan knocks over a stack of books. Shivers crawl up Kopans spine.
"Hey uh, what's the date?" Kopan asks.
"Today is the 22nd," Maha answers in a gruff voice.
Kopan sheds a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank god."
Kopan had borrowed several books from the Library for further studies of flora. He'd almost completely forgotten to return it. One day late and the Library will receive its first flower-headed Page. Alas, returning it in person will be nearly impossible. He hasn't finished even half of his tending duties, and the due date is tomorrow. He really needs to hire more gardeners. He starts pacing back and forth, figuring out what he should do. "Oh god, no." He turns to Leof and Maha. He tries reasoning against putting the two sorcerers for the task. But he has no choice.
"Have you two been to the Library?" Kopan asks.
"The Library? Like, the Wanderers Library?" replied Maha.
Kopan nods.
"Well, I've been there once. Returning a book one of our teachers borrowed," Leof answered.
"So you know where to go, right?" Kopan asks again.
"I guess?" Leof shrugs lightly.
"Good," Kopan puts the stack of books into the empty plant bag and gives it to Leof and Maha.
"I entrust you with these books, return them to the Library before tomorrow. At most 11:59," Kopan briefs them.
"W-wait, so you're sending us on like, a quest?" Maha asked, surprised.
"It's more of a favor, but sure," Kopan answers blankly.
Maha and Leof look at each other. Maha turns back to Kopan, unsure. Kopan inhales slowly and gives a reassuring nod. The two sorcerers is led by Kopan to the greenhouse door. Kopan stares at the door for a few seconds, trying to remember something. He knocks twice, once with his hands and once with his elbow. He waits. Nothing. Kopan does the weird knock again. And again, and again, and again. He sounds an exasperated sigh then kicks the door in frustration. The glass door suddenly becomes opaque. Kopan's eyes widen. He reaches for the handle and slowly opens the sliding door. They are greeted by towering shelves, unlike anything seen in the Last Place. The smell of dust and turpentine fills the greenhouse. Kopan steps away from the door and signs for Leof and Maha to enter. As they enter the Library, the sheer enormity of the structure becomes clear. They watch in awe as a Page scales the shelf in front of them. Kopan gives a farewell.
"Good luck you two," said Kopan as he closes the sliding door, "And don't be late!"
Kopan's voice tatters into silence. The two sorcerers looks back to the door, it's all shelves. They didn't even think about how to get back, or even where to go in general. But, they're here, the knowledge of multiverses right in front of their jaw-dropped faces.
The B33 series is a DC electric multiple unit commuter and suburban train type operated by North Mesaea Railways (MR North) and Ardchester Rail Company (ArdRC). The commuter variant was introduced on Southern M Line services in Hikaise 1185, and the suburban variant entered service on the Ardchester Rapid on 5 Lyneith 1188. The MR North variant (B33-1000) has an eight-car formation. While the Ardchester Rapid variant (B33-500) has a four-car formation, though sometimes increased to 8 during rush hours.
I dunno, this feels really weird. It's like I'm trying to write with a clinical tone but like, in a warm, fuzzy, informal, and approachable way. Hmph. What if I just drop the professional tone and do it in something more fantastical?
The metal serpent rushes through the sorrowful tracks, slowing down as each carriage passes me by. The serpent comes to a halt just a little too late, its head sticking out of the station and into the dark abyss of the tunnels. The gates of the serpent opens unenthusiastically, followed by a choir of robotic voices stating to keep some sort of gap in mind. The mindless gap to be kept in mind seems awfully fond of my very uninteresting shoe for whatever reason; the right one specifically. As the mindless gap enthuses at my shoe, my center of gravity shifts forward, plunging me onto the mock parquet floor of the metal serpent's interiors. And before you ask, yes, the subway of my residence has parquet flooring. I assume the local railway company had a little bit of pocket money to burn, though, I wonder when those almighty railway company people will start cleaning out the utterly disgraceful tracks. Such beauty shouldn't be straddling paths of feces. At least, that's what I thought when my head slammed violently onto the parquet floor.
As I lay ungracefully on the parquet floor, my eyes sweep the car. None cared enough to even react to my unfortunate fate. Nor does the metal serpent either initially, its closing gates dispassionately crushing my right foot. But shortly after, the metal serpent cries out, lashing out at the inconsistency that has been brought upon its schedule. All within the serpent turns to me, unamused by the theatrics of my circumstance. I then lift my right foot to ease the burden of the serpent, and those within it also. The cries of the serpent ends abruptly, and those within the serpent reverts to their usual unbothered, disinterested selves. The two serpent-keepers, each on opposite ends of the serpent, waves a sign and points at each other, effectively manifesting a spell for the serpent's safety. With my ears on the floor, I hear the serpents organs starting to churn and come to life. A high-pitched whistle, the serpent releases its footing. The serpents heart beats faster, its body rattling with excitement. Then, a loud echoing roar. And the mighty metal serpent rushes into the dark abyss, to be seen again later.
I am legitimately too stupid to write.