fett on 13/1/2005 at 06:32

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[Here's a short one]

Chapter 12
Keeper Library – 5:22pm

It took a long hot shower to wash the stink of the sewer away. After a few hours with Diakatana and a cold beer, Garrett slept in late. He had a big night ahead at the Keeper Library.

He overhead the impressed whispers as he made his way to the Super Secret Library.

“The Lost Recordings of Bob Dylan,” marveled a female Keeper as he passed by.

“I did not think they would be translated in my lifetime,” noted her companion.

“They will be sent to Keeper Cattlecall immediately. So she can fall asleep on them.”

“Yes, unfortunate,” he replied, “Still, I cannot help but admire the accomplishment. Recovering it could not have been easy. I’m sure his hands got very dirty down there," he grimmaced, ringing his own hands together.

“The timing could not have been worse. The annual shuffleboard tournament is coming up. We don’t have time for these distractions. The council will want to discuss it.”

“Screw that. I say we blow it off and go get stoned in the broom closet.”

“Agreed.”

They hurried down the corridor as Garrett slipped by unnoticed and made his way into the Super Secret Library.

“Silence!” called out Supreme Overlord Orlando, “Cattlecall is about to begin her usual drunken rambling.”

“Dian peaks to bus mow,” the old woman began, “mery mowermul…”

“Cattlecall, your teeth?” interjected the creepy little translator girl. She handed the glass of dentures to the women.

“Pank you,” Cattlecall cleared her throat, “Dylan speaks to us now…very powerful…” she drifted into almost a trance state…

“Muffle fargin peeeble weryuvor ya rohm…”

“Come gather 'round people wherever you roam…”

“Fargle barfin der wertrs arun ya harv grewun...”

”And admit that the waters around you have grown…”

“Giffen cept that sewn ya bene drunched toda beuneee…”Cattlecall droned on.

“And accept it that soon you'll be drenched to the bone…”

“Tume ya wruthe serving thu beruter strut swimern yerl zink lurk dar stuuren.

“If your time to you is worth savin' then you better start swimmin' Or you'll sink like a stone..."

“Far durn turmes der undo a-churgrin.”

“For the times they are a-changin,”said the little girl, “and something something ‘the mole in our midst'. Yeah.”

There was reverent silence for a moment before one of the Keeper spoke up, “The times they are a-changin? What could it mean?”

“We must wait and watch,” concluded Orlando, “the meaning of the lyric will become clear with time.”

“Don’t count on it,” muttered Artemus, “it is Dylan after all…”

“Wait?” Garrett was perturbed, “after I found your precious Recording? No….the times they are a-changin – and something about the Mole in our Midst. They must be related – don’t you want to know what we’re up against? The New Kids on the Block might be staging a reunion tour or something!”

“Hahahahahah!!!! What would you do?” mocked Orlando, “Stop time with your bare hands? You’ve saved the world twice, thief, but don’t think you can interpret a simple prophecy! Leave that job to those of us who have stood by in the past and done nothing! It seemed to work pretty well, and if it ain't broke don't fix it I say.”

Murmers of agreement around the room.

“I’m going to break into the Clocktower in Stoner’s Market and find some way to stop the clock,” Garrett suddenly announced.

“Perhaps the clock could be considered a symbol of time!” another Keeper exclaimed excitedly.

“No duh, Sherlock,” Garrett rolled his eyes, “Do you guys have to take 'Stating the Obvious' classes or something? Geez!”

“If you’re suggesting sabotage, you’ll accomplish nothing,” warned Orlando, “except further enraging the Hammerites. It would be awful if they got so mad that they took over the City and started clubbing people to death with those awful hammers. They’re so nice and peaceful now. Let’s leave well enough alone. Besides – the shuffleboard tournament is next week.”

“I’m not going to sit around doing nothing. I have to either save the world or steal stuff. It’s a life,” Garrett shrugged.

“Fool! I forbid you to go to the Clocktower!” Orlando thundered, “Or interfere with our shuffleboard tournament in any way!”

“You forget Orlando…your fly is unzipped.”

Orlando grabbed his cloak and glanced down quickly. When he lifted his gaze, Garrett had disappeared.

“He has left, Supreme Overlord Orlando,” one of the Keeper’s who had recieved high marks in his 'Stating the Obvious' class helpfully reported.

“How did he get in here in the first place?” asked Orlando, “I thought this was the Super Secret Library?”

“Actually,” said Artemus, “He’s allowed in here. We just can’t let him into the Super Duper Secret Library where we keep all the Important Stuff. That would be a catastrophe.”

“Oh.” Orlando seemed to ponder this a moment, then shrugged it off, “Ok people,” he clapped his hands together, “Let’s play some Shuffleboard!”

Larcener on 13/1/2005 at 18:58

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You have a beautiful mind..... :)

Vogelfrei on 14/1/2005 at 22:51

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'Stating the Obvious' classes - let's see if the Jedi have something like this!
I adore these keeper parts. :cheeky:

fett on 20/1/2005 at 14:33

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Chapter 13 – Killing Time
The Clock Tower – 9:35pm

The Keepers are waiting for time to stop on its own. Just like they wait for everything to happen on its own. Like the laundry, and dental hygiene. Now I remember why I left them so long ago. I think their prophecy needs a little push. The Stoner’s Market Clock Tower is tall – you can see it all the way from Awedude, though I’ve never paid it much attention. If there’s a way to stop time, I’ve decided this is it, in some strange figurative way that is totally inconsistent with my character. I made it inside the tower, now I just have to figure out how to sabotage it. It centuries old, and they say it’s gears have killed more men than Sudden Heart Attack syndrome, or the City’s water supply. It’ll be full of those fanatical Hammerites too – some of them spend their whole lives here maintaining it. Losers. They’re not going to let me throw a wrench into their nerdfest and it’s a good thing. I barely have room to carry one what with all this other equipment. The blackjack is already poking me in areas that are completely inappropriate, but until I find my cloak, it’s the best I can do.
I’ll be making my way down from the top. I thought about using the back door, but then I couldn’t have used my nifty new climbing gloves, and it wouldn’t take as long. With a little luck along the way, I can figure out how to turn the thing off. Let’s hope my way of dealing with the prophecy is more productive than the Keepers, or this could be a big waste of time.
Get it? Waste of time? I slay myself…

The pounding of machinery and oppressive heat did nothing to prepare Garrett for the enormity of the contraption that filled his vision as he emerged into the main clock housing at the top of the tower. Gears spun. Pistons pumped. Engines roared. Fans whirred. Other gadgets did little that little spinning thing. Hammerites in red garb ran to and fro like ants on an abandoned popsicle, busying themselves with various tasks at the center of it all the activity loomed an enormous…

Cuckoo bird?

Garrett had never paid the clock much attention. Work for him started when the sun went down and ended when it came up. Unless one of those blue mists mysteriously transported him to his apartment. He was usually settled snuggly in someone else's living room, private vault, or the local pub in Southtowne when the clock chimed, and had never actually heard it declare into the darkness, “Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Is there a more insipid way to declare that the hour has past? Cuckoo!!”

He had to admit, it was impressive. Steel construction, supported by a massive framework. The head bobbed up and down, preparing for it’s next big intrusion into the already troubled sleep of the City.

That beak could crush me flat. Better stay on my toes.

The sound of the gears and steam pressure releases throughout the room were deafening. All the better to sneak around in.

Garrett stepped out into the intimidating shadow of the great bird.

“DO MINE EARS DECEIVE ME?” one of the nearby Hammers yelled over the din.

“WHAT’S THAT BROTHER??” screamed another, as a large fan clanked on overhead.

”I SAY, DO MINE EARS DECEIVE ME?”

“NAY BROTHER,” Garrett could see the veins popping out in his neck as he strained to communicate, ”I HATH NOTICED IT TOO. THE FAINTEST OF SMALL FOOTSTEPS IN THE NORTHWEST CORNER OF THE ROOM. BY THE BUILDER!! WE MUST INVESTIGATE FORTHWITH!!!

These guys obviously didn’t get their hearing aids from the same company that made my eye…

No choice but to climb the wall and work his way around to the small ladder in the far corner. Something sparkled in his peripheral vision. A gear hanging on the wall? Up here?

“I HEAR IT NOT NOW,” the two continued below, “MY NERVES ARE ILL AT EASE. THIS MECHANISM DOTH NEEDETH A SHINY NEW GEAR, BUT ALAS, IT HAS BEEN HUNG HIGH UPON THE WALL OUT OF REACH WHERE WE CANNOT OBTAINITH IT.”

“VERILY,” screamed the other, “TWAS A SORE RESOURCE MANAGEMENT DECISION, LOCATING REPLACEMENT PARTS HIGH UPON THE WALL. HOWEVER, THE DIAMOND GEAR SHALL BE SAFE FROM HARM IN IT’S RESTING PLACE.”

Diamond gear? Score!

Just as Garrett was pocketing the expensive round disc, the noise reached a fever pitch. Two huge doors swung open on the far side of the room.

Uh-oh. Showtime.

The gigantic track on which the Cuckoo bird rested began to groan as it moved forward, pushing the head of the monstrosity out into the night.

CUCKOO!!! CUCKOO!!! CUCKOO!!!

Garrett felt blood trickle from one of his ears as he raced for the ladder. He was so disoriented, he missed it completely. Luckily the landing wasn’t far below and he fell to the metal flooring below.

“DO MINE EARS DECEIVE ME?” said the same guy, spinning to look in the direction of the ladder.

“WHAT’S THAT BROTHER?” the other yelled back.

As Garrett moved away from the ladder, the deafening roar of the Cuckoo clock became a bit more muffled. He wiped the blood from his cheek and considered that mechanical ears were probably more expensive than mechanical eyes.

There was a desk at the end of what was little more than a hallway. Garrett found a map and some nice wine goblets under the desk, and on top, a map.

Hmmm….don’t know about stopping time, but maybe these blueprints will help me find a way to destroy that big chicken…

A journal lay open on the desk:

[indent]Journal of Father Debole
Any cook canst bake, fry, or poach an egg. Any waitress canst serve the egg with bacon, sausage, or pork chop. ‘Tis good work, but common. Only these brethren in my keeping canst care for the chicken, which lays the egg, which is served with the side of your choice of meat. The great chicken hath set itself not against our success, but against our sloth. So must we be shaped ever stronger in its nest. But it is at times overmuch for me, so I have to sit back here and get drunk off my ass. My whole life? Devoted to taking care of a giant mechanical chicken? No wonder I never got married! Who can blame me for hiding a moonshine still in one of the back rooms and getting lit every couple of hours? MY LIFE IS A WASTE!!!”[/indent]

Hmmm….pleasant guy…

Garrett hated to rob him of his only solace, but the wine would make a nice addition to his collection, and if he had it his way, Father Debole’s poultry woes would be over within the hour.

Wrong. The majority of the next several hours was spent descending metal stairs and climbing down the walls of rooms with gigantic mechanisms, humming and clanking, though apparently never loud enough to drown out the subtle sounds of his shoes on the wooden floors.

ONE rope arrow….just ONE, and I could have been out of here hours ago…

When he finally found the ground floor, it fit every description of the ‘belly of the beast.’ Here the motors and gears and bellows all worked in tandem to care for a gargantuan nest in the center of the room. It was filled with eggs the size of a Mech beast.

A Cuckoo hatchery…greeeeaaaatttt….

According to Father Debole’s plans, there were certain machines around the perimeter of the main room that controlled the primary motor. If he could somehow make them backfire and seize up…

His eyes went to the large winding contraption and the steam pipe running to its center from another room. It appeared to be the driving force behind the motor for the Cuckoo. He followed it through several rooms, working his way around the central room until he came to a large metal wheel spinning rapidly. Oddly, it was quiet in here save for the pitter patter of what seemed like thousands of little feet...

What powers this thing? Where does the driving energy come from? If I could only stop it…

Then a distinct smell hit him. It reminded him of long gone adventures in caverns and caves, sewers beneath the city streets. Mice.

He stepped closer, peering through the industrial gloom. Thousands of hamsters running for their lives in the bottom of the wheel. The perpetual force of the mechanism was alarming given the size of the animals, but they were making up for their smallness with stamina and speed.

This should be easier than I thought…

He lifted the small door on the giant cage, scrounged around in his meager clothing, and came up with a cat he’d been carrying around since that night at the Blue Oyster Bar.

Within seconds, hamsters were scrambling from the cage, abandoning their posts quicker than Keepers at the prospect of actual work.

Garrett found the steam release valve and clamped it down. The pressure began to build. Meanwhile, he stepped back out to the nest, and with a few well placed fire arrows turned the place into a Denny’s Grand Slam.

That’s when the creaking started.

Those noises mean bad news. Time may have stopped, but this is looking more destructive than I planned. Who would have known that bringing a 400 ton, 12 story metal building to a complete halt in a matter of seconds would cause it to malfunction? While I made profit, I don’t see any prophecies being fulfilled (Wow, that “Puns and Wordplay for the Common Man” book is really paying off). I would hate to admit the Keepers are right after all. The best thing to do now is return to the Keeper Library and let Orlando yell at me. Maybe Cattlecall is finally ready to tell us who the Mole in our Midst is. The Hammers can keep the cat.

Keeper Library – 12:17am

“Interpreter Cattlecall has been murdered!” gasped the young Keeper, “ I went to bring her the latest issue of Interpreter Monthly and her door was open. She never leaves it open. Well except for that one time when Acolyte Whitford caught her getting out of the shower. But he’s fully recovered now…”

“Garrett has killed Interpreter Cattlecall you say? Perfectly reasonable since we all know he was destroying the Cuckoo Clock at the time of her death. Seize him and bring him to the council room immediately!”

It was one of the largest assemblies of Keepers Garrett had ever seen in the council room. It was the trial of…well, it was the only trial they’d ever had.

“If the lockpicks do not fit, you must aquit!” demanded Artemis from the floor in front of the dias.

“This is the only murder within our ranks since these walls, were founded by our ancestors,” proclaimed Orlando.

“But Garrett had no reason to kill Cattlecall,” a female voice protested, “has he not walked in line with the prophecies before?”

“Yes, but they say the prophecies point to him,” called another voice from one of the dark enclaves in the chamber.

“’They’ who?” countered the female.

“You know,” he faltered, “’them’ – the ones who can read.”

“He destroyed the Cuckoo Clock!” yelled another, “Petty vandalism is one thing, but now we won’t know when mid-morning tea, or brunch is! We’ll have to learn to tell time!”

“And who’s going to do all our dirty work for us if we convict him? That’s what I want to know!”

After a long silence, Orlando shouted out, “Silence! I have heard enough! Garrett, have you anything to say before sentence is passed?”

“You haven’t listened to anything so far Orlando. All I can tell you is the truth.”

“I CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH,” Orlando screamed, pounding down his gavel, “WE HAVE A 3:00 PING PONG PLAYOFF AND THERE’S NO TIME FOR A REAL TRIAL!!!”

“Uh, ping pong’s at 4 today boss,” interjected Artemis.

“Ah, right, right. Right you are,” he simmered down, “Nevertheless, our deep wisdom and mystic vision demand we accuse and convict someone quickly before evidence is presented.”

“Well, we do have laws for this kind of thing…”ventured Artemis.

“I AM THE LAW!! Garrett: You are declared guilty of Interpreter Cattlecall’s murder. Your punishment will be determined by the council. AFTER the ping pong match of course. NOW REMOVE HIM!”

Garrett was hurried from the chamber and off to an undisclosed secure location, which he would never be able to find later, even if he scoured every inch of the Keeper Complex from top to bottom. Perhaps it was in a parallel dimension.

Time passed.

Orlando stood his balcony pondering deep issues. Such as ‘what kind of cleaner removes egg from sculpted marble’ and ‘where did all these hamsters come from?’ when a voice over his shoulder said, “Supreme Overlord, I regret to inform you that Garrett has….escaped. And we’re out of chocolate whipped cream.”

“Very good. Call together the Keeper Enforcers. They will track him down and…erase our problem. And make sure they leave those silly plastic lightsaber things at home this time. Until they can learn to build the real thing, it’s just embarrassing.”

Orlando went back to his thoughts. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? In this case, the egg had come first, in a showering spray of slime and yolk. Then came the looming face of the Cuckoo, glaring into his bedroom from the fiery remains of it’s desecrated nest. This was going to look bad on his resume.

DarthMRN on 21/1/2005 at 00:56

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Thank you very much for the update, Fett. When you didn't post anything before midnight I got worried.

Now, I dont want to seem like a nitpicker or anything, and I realize it can't always be easy to keep track of everything, but there are a few things you might want to edit.
Earlier, you called Artemus Artemis, but now you call him Artimus, and if I haven't totally misunderstood, the Keeper Enforcers of your last part were previously called Jedi Knights.

Other than that, keep it up...Master