Cumberbatch Solo

While watching Doctor Strange, I recognized the myriad characters Benedict Cumberbatch is capable of playing. It came to me for a moment, just as I had thought of him playing Dr. Strange (I mentioned it a couple years back on Twitter), that Cumberbatch could even play the role of Han Solo from Star Wars, if a Han Solo origins were ever written for screen and film. Just a thought. 

My Movie Ideas for Retro and Classic Combacks (Or Cumberbatch's)

My ideas for the ultimate films and remakes of old movies! Retro and classic!

First and foremost, the greatest warrior on the history of the planet, and the ultimate badass fighter... We need a remake of the classic SHAKA ZULU! Nobody stands up to Zulu. Nobody even in their most glorious dreams. I think Jim Cameron should do this film, if not Peter Jackson. 

A remake of Bonnie and Clyde, starring Kirsten Dunst! 

A motion picture of Under the Pyramids, by H.P. Lovecraft, and maybe casting Robert Downey Jr., or Benedict Cumberbatch as Harry Houdini.

A remake of Labyrinth with Kirsten Dunst or Natalie Portman for lead roles would be awesome. To fill the role of the goblin king, I suggest Sean Bean (Can he sing?).

How about the Rock Johnson as The Terminator?

How about Dennis Quaid for the lead role in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?

Will Smith in a recap of The Hollywood Shuffle? or 48 Hours? Both good films of their time, and retro-mania is in the house!

Charles Dance would be a good fit for the role of Alijah Billington if someone decides to film The Lurker at the Threshold, a story based on the work of H. P. Lovecraft.

I’m praying that Peter Jackson will pick up my idea to do a remake of Dracula. I suggest Charles Dance for the role of the prince of darkness, since he is as close a look alike to Christopher Lee that we can hope for.

Or, perhaps a sequel about Dracula is not Dead! wherein J. Harker revisits Castle Dracula, only to discover a greater horror than previously envisioned by Bram Stoker.

Martin Freeman might as well take the lead role if there’s ever an H.P. Lovecraft movie featuring a story like ‘Witches Hallow’. If such a project existed, I’d suggest Freeman for the lead role of Mr. Bishop.

Would be awesome if Peter Jackson also did a remake of the classic horror film, The Blob.

If you’re even thinking of making another Lovecraft film, let us do the man justice by selecting Benedict Cumberbatch for the lead role of Carter. Carter was a reoccurring character in Lovecrafts short stories.

Cumberbatch returns to the screen as Sherlock Holmes in a new cinema variant of his television series. (I told you on Twitter way before, that when the greats like Michael York are gone, the new classics will turn to Benedict Cumberbatch—But, why wait?).

A remake of Dreamscape with Max Von Sydow returning to the role as the lead doctor or scientist would blow my mind!

We need a remake of Logan’s Run! I suggested this to Tom Cruise, because I think he could play the role of Logan easily. And he'd be a worthy performer in Michael York's honor. 

For the love of film! Don't keep a lady waiting! Or take any wooden nickels! #IfOnlyMovies

That’s me done for tonight, folks.

Bookmark this post for updates. 

The God Gun and the Techno-Cult Genre

Short stories start new genres, like my techno-cult series. Check out this short story of a police detective trailing after a series of murders, only to find that the culprits are a cult raising an ancient and evil god. The God Gun is on Kindle for 99cents, right here.

The God Gun in: I Dreamed the Lord of Hell Incarnate

The God Gun

 

in

 

I Dreamed the Lord of Hell Incarnate

Preface:

Story based on a mild nightmare. A police detective takes an undercover job, trailing after a series of murders and robberies, when he discovers there's a correlation between the crimes and sacrifices made to an ancient and evil god.

Enter the Portal

...All doors are closing. I am still undercover, but poor Hector is as white as a ghost. Before I could execute my escape plan, Frederick's men pounced on us from both sides. Hector struggled, his skinny arms waved pathetically at his husky captors.

Frederick made his entrance almost gracefully, a tiger mimicking a house cat. Frederick was enameled in stylish gown and dark coat, but his unreasonable and sickening hatred could not be contained by his poise, nor could his guise veil him from my own keen senses. He noticed me, but without returning my gaze.

Frederick had a way of letting you know that he was aware of you, even when he wasn’t looking in your direction. He unnerved me, this beast that walks in the guise of a man.

Hector ceased to resist his captors when Frederick’s eyes touched upon him. The boney man, now trembling violently, seemed almost to surrender all his will under the fearsome shadow of Frederick.

It was in this moment of fear frenzy that an ultra-phobic terror seized my heart. My will to survive replaced my cool senses. I forgot about keeping my operation covered under the guise of a supervisor in Frederick’s shipping scheme. All that remained was my utter astonishment of a creature standing before me, and one that could not possibly be human. How could I have ever confused the two?

Hector had betrayed Frederick, coming forward to the police about the illegal operations of Frederick’s shipping company.

Frederick's manners were almost all gone, and this worried me---for surely he couldn't know of my true identity. Had Frederick been a man of practiced manners, but without a heart or maybe even without a soul?

The once eccentric businessman who had danced his way over to great me for my first day on an unofficial job was now towering over Hector without mercy.

The warehouse was at first an ordinary storage chamber, but before my eyes the chamber expanding into infinite darkness. Now there was only Frederick pitching his dark voice on the edge of the rising floor. Frederick commanded with his voice, "Hector! You think that I didn't know you looked into my things?" Hector began to protest, but one of Frederick's henchmen applied more pressure to the wrist behind the skinny man's back. Frederick smirked at the compliance of the skinny man and continued,

"You have a choice...". Pausing, the tall Frederick threw back his long hair with his large bony hands. I thought that I saw a spark of hope in Hector's eye, but quickly diverted my attention back to the tall beast whose hair was waving as if in the wind.

I felt no particularly strong draft in the warehouse, but I had a hunch that things were about to get a whole lot weirder--if not violent. At exactly that thought I knew what I must do.

At the first opportunity I would spring on the most vulnerable man, the one that had left Frederick’s side to help constrain Hector.

"You can either come down with me to the room that you were not supposed to look in, and we'll talk about this, or..."

Hector began squirming and shaking his head. No words came out of the skinny man, only the stench of fear... a fragrance that only a beast like Frederick could smell, and one which he lusted.

"... you can shoot yourself now!" My face must have changed expression, for at that moment one of the henchmen lunged at me.

Frederick pulled a 12-gauge from out of his coat and tossed it to the trembling skinny man. I saw the lunacy in the act and the henchman released his grip as Hector turned away from the airborne shot gun.

I acted swift. My suit was a bit cumbersome, but I was as agile as a cat, and I might say, as heavy as a bulldog.

My left arm caught the barrow of the shotgun, while my right hand gripped the blunt side, taking it up and bashing one henchman's face in. The tough man fell to the floor in a heap of his own spit and blood. My ear caught the wind of the other henchman making his corpulent body move on me as if he meant to tackle me to the ground. I pivoted with my right foot back and pumped that dog with a full round of the shotgun. His corpse to be flew back and spun across the marble.

Quickly, I spun and reared back as Frederick came at me, leaping from aloft a raised platform like a mountain lion.

With the shotgun in position, I fired the gun just as Frederick began to say something. The words were drowned out by the blast, but I had missed. I missed at point blank!

Frederick quickly brought the barrow of the gun up with one long arm. I acted by bringing the back of the gun's blunt under and up for a counter strike.

I missed again. Impossible!

Somehow, he repelled the gun, like two magnets of the same charge would repel each other.

The dark man stood before me smirking, but I didn't waste time exchanging cute expressions. I decided to wipe that smile off his face with a straight jab.

The gun is out of my hands. Simple as that.

I threw a right hook and Frederick blocked it, then returned a solid swing with the gun. I crouched and moved forward, as I came back up, taking my right forearm into his wrist, grappling with that hand and pulling the tall man down to me. My left arm swung instinctively and caught his right arm just above the elbow. His arm cracked!

The gun slid to the floor.

By this time, Hector had regained his senses. As the shot gun slid across the marble floor, the skinny man picked it up and secured the gun with some dignity. I found myself saying, despite the oddity of what had just happened, "You're under arrest for kidnapping, animal cruelty and..."

I began to feel that my hold on Frederick was slipping unnaturally, as if his arm wasn't really under my control at all. I was unable to get his compliance through pain. Frederick snickered and spat out, "And murder!"

I lost my hold on the tall man completely. The feeling was both astonishment and irritation. Had my hands failed me? Was my mind projecting this? Just when I had mustered the courage to act, my body was failing me?

"Gregg," Fredrick's voice resounded in the warehouse that had now transformed into an amphitheater. And it was in bad taste, some kind of Gothic revival.

"you are so worried for your new friend?" There was a mirthless chuckle followed by, "I was going to save this experience for Hector himself, but since you interfered with our business--policeman--you can join him!"

Hector looked afraid, but not for himself this time.

I, myself, began to tremble now. Yes, the broad shoulders quivered and sunk forward in undeniable cowardice. The brave ex-green beret, and the loyal friend and detective had transformed into a cowering boy before Frederick.

No! I fought the urge to run! I fight back now!

I... I wanted to end it!

"Go ahead and ruuunnn!” Frederick laughed wildly. “Go now, policeman! Abandon this skinny wrench, and leave him to his fate with me!"

“Wrench?” I muttered inaudibly.

Yeah, lift this unworthy wrench from the dunghill.

It was a phrase I’d read somewhere before. Or maybe I had heard it in church sometime when I was a kid. Hell, it could have been God talking to my inner ear for all I know. I knew only in that moment that every ounce of my human spirit was on trial. Not Frederick. He wasn’t on trial. He was already damned. And this thought gave me something to weigh my faith in.

Frederick fancied that I would flee, but his smile turned to a grave and

evil expression of dispassion.

"So be it."

A hole between dimensions opened, and an old canvas on the wall behind us animated, and yawning as a dark and cavernous mouth. The portal began to pull at my body.

The chamber whisked away from my field of vision, as if the world of man had suddenly taken a plunge off into outer space.

I was afraid to look back at the dark, sunken faces, but I could not escape that ghastly sight!

I could hear Frederick in the back of all the noise rushing out of the darkness,

following the howls and moans, and that blasted screaming!

These were people, and I think I knew them somehow, but I did not know them in this life. I became confused and enchanted in the realm of chaos.

Breaking the enchantment over my mind was the ambient voice of Frederick,

"These are your brothers and sisters."

Frederick's voice trailed off. I fell for what seemed like an eternity. And, I became very aware that I had somehow known all these pale and sunken eyes around me. I felt a sort of compassion, and at that moment my descent increased temperamentally.

And now Hector was being pulled down by the last descending demonic things that were his ghastly family, grimly familiar to me, too. I searched for any limb protruding from the hole and shouted to him, "Hector!" The sound I heard then was an awful recall... the sounds of pain from a man suffering under the cruelty of inhuman things, like that of torture, torment and molesting before murder. I wanted to heave.

I think I am losing my nerve now. All is dark, but I recall now... Yes. My heart was faint and I could not shout, until... Yes, I remember now... I heard Frederick's malevolent hiss behind me, towering above me.

"Fear eats even the strongest of your kind! You are bereft of badge and honor. You have no authority here. There is no justice!"

Suddenly, I felt strength come back into my voice and a glow in my chest, like a radiant heart. I found myself thrown back into the amphitheater. The room was going through a stage of retrogression. Soon, I would be back in the warehouse. The walls transformed before my eyes. The portal would collapse, and I would be saved. But, Hector would be damned.

I knew instantly what I had to decide.

With my heart on fire, blazing with integrity and compassion, I dived toward the painting on the wall, that diabolic portal, with full force and all my weight. But its cavernous mouth had closed. Only a trail of darkness receded in the air now. Eddies of shadow spiraled around on the wall and the ceiling, gradually fading into nonexistence.

Frederick was gone.

I shouted at the top of my lungs, "No! You bastard! You cannot escape me!" Just then, my head reeled. I felt the floor turning. I must have at least put a whole through the canvas with that much force. I turned around and noted that indeed I had managed to break the canvas. There was a hole. I reached in it... something clutched my hand, but not another hand, rather a force like that of a magnetic field. Then the ghastly faces came up and pulled me down to where I would see Hector's destiny unfold.

There was a vast stretch of darkness. Time stood still.

Or had it not? I cannot be sure, even now. Am I really sitting here and writing

This report? I’ll be let go from the force without a pension, if not put in a straitjacket!

I can only recall the awakening that was swift and wrathful. I was in hell, or something like hell. I saw crowds and crowds of things, and what looked like people and things that were neither things nor people. Assaults on the flesh, molestation of the mind and tormenting of the souls encompassed my vision. I could not find where it began, nor where it ended. However, I sensed a mockery of my horror... an emotion of pleasure and joy that came from that beast that I knew as Frederick.

So, I did what I did best. I followed my nose through recesses of darkness and red open flesh and stench and noise. Hunger and lust were everywhere, but mourning and hatred were dominant. I felt sick and almost lost my scope on the laughter that was Frederick. I meant to find him first, and then decide what to do with him after.

I found Fredrick after what felt as if an epoch had passed over the realms of the undead. The creature that was Frederick was now a tiny toad like beast, and he sat upon a high stool, totally in the high and open. He gorged on human heads as if they were apples. I realized that he was not really so small, but rather very high up on a sort of stool that sat upon in this fleshy interior of some kind of forge in hell. Or was it a warehouse? I couldn’t be sure.  An industrial conveyor belt fed Frederick the bodies and souls of the dead. He ate and ate, as a mechanical thing himself. He wasted, defecated, and he feed scraps to hateful and starved dogs--Dogs that would forever be hungry.

I could not find Hector. I never did. I feel that this is a defeat I shall never get over. I had wanted to save him from this horrible fate. However, this was not the average search-and-rescue mission. So, I failed at finding Hector, but I would not fail to find Frederick.

As well, I learned the tricks to Frederick’s awful power. I watched how he ate and one of his hounds choked on a piece of flesh or bone. So, I laughed.  Moreover, I felt surprise in own action. I could not stop from laughing. And I laughed a good and hardy bellyful.

Frederick noticed my laughter, and then the other dogs began choking. They all died, and then subsequently died many times over. This replay of resurrection and death continued until it was as meaningless as their very existence. The demons and dogs all faded out of existence.

I focused this new insight. I simply didn't care what was happening. I allowed the fire to burn me. When it all became meaningless... it ended. I passed through the void leaving Frederick in a dimension that suffocated him and collapsed upon him from every angle and point in time. Frederick existed for me no more.

I still wonder if Hector ever made it out of there. I believe he did, but he is not on this earth. So here I am, back in good old city life as a cop.

Leaving what would be considered a rather unscrupulous report in the round file next to my desk, I left the office for the day.

I tip my hat in a memorized fashion and hold a door open as an act of chivalry for a young woman. She brushes into my shoulder - something more important on her mind, I guess. Well, I light a cigarette and walk past this familiar bus stop, and then I notice this church up on a hill just past the old library. The spire glowed under the sun. I beheld a shimmering cross.

Just then, I had a flash in my mind’s eye. It was the darn-est of things. But, I think maybe Hector’s smiling face shown through the clouds. And, well, I think Hector went on to a better place. As for me, I'm here and I'm still lost in the times.

Young Harry Potter Learns to Go Potty

How was it that young Harry, orphaned after the murder of his parents by Voldemort, learned to go potty? Well, one day professor Lupin visited young Harry and gave him his first potty lesson, as follows:

Prof. Lupin: Now, young Harry, I want you to clear your mind and think of your happiest memory. Got it?

Harry: Yeah.

Prof. Lupin: Okay, good. Now, Harry... Wand at the ready!

Gothocracy III (Screen Style)

Babeldel

(Gothocracy 3)

Thomas P. Walton

Prologue
It is Vivian's wedding day under the full fury of Mars, and war has broken out across the once tranquil establishment of the netherworld of Gothocracy. Two years in to the process of reclaiming the Zodiacron (a chaos apparatus belonging to the ministers of Babeldel citadel) from the Order of Tempus and the Clandestine Cloth of the Smiths, little more than a handle full of mutated resurrectants have laid siege upon the town of Citibaad. 

In the absence of anyone to challenge the mutants' hunger for human flesh, Marcella Barrientos and Agita Bella hold the fort against the mutant front.

Sardonically enough, Marcella's problems are only beginning. 

Deep beneath Babeldel citadel where the demonic intelligence of Necrotep was once imprisoned, a seal barring the portal from beyond the known spheres of the universe has been left broken between worlds.  Little do Agita and Marcella realize that while they stave off mutant attacks from the citadel, a second wave of invaders from the darkest depths of Abrasax has breached the locks and guards of the chrysalis far below their feet. The diabolical god, Zhaus, has decided to wage war against the remnant humans to avenge his brother's death... and to reign over the earth. Instead of traveling from across the void beyond the faded stars, Zhaus traverses through the diabolic rift in the subterranean caverns of the citadel.  

Meanwhile, on the nearest side of the Sparrow's Blight (a wasteland of salted dunes and glass buildings, where about only crows pillage through the fragments for glimmering souvenirs of the dead races of man), Lidivic Seth, Marcus Anton, and Devon D' rummage through the sorcery of their former mentor, the late Dr. Jon Arcus. Gradually, the trio is enlightened to the growing horde of mutants in the surrounding ghost town.

Grateful for their secret entrance into Jon's library, Lidivic, Marcus, and Devon D', make their way below the under-halls of Yesterday's Big City--a.k.a. the forgotten city (or as Lidivic so affectionately refers to it--the rotten apple).

As the second wave assault on the earth begins, will the nine chosen ones fulfill their oaths to the order of Arcus, and defend the remnants of Gothocracy? Graying it seems, humanity leaks from the hearts of the watchers.........

Chapter 1

[Vivian laced herself. Stretch. Snap. Popped her braw. Projected a kiss in the mirror. Grinning to herself. ]

[Olivia jeered at Vivian. She looked withdrawn from her friend.]

      

Olivia:  In truth, it disturbs me. A sister of mine tying the knot with a dick no sister would trust in her right mind. The torment virgin Vivian causes me with her ongoing woes of love and eternal bonding sickens me.

Vivian: Liz, darling?

Olivia:  Ah, the cow's pet name for Olivia. I wonder how our little virgin derived 'Liz' from 'Olivia'? There just isn't any--oh, never mind. Yes, darkness?

Vivian: Oh, stop thinking so loud. All you do is read and quote. Or preach.

[Olivia grimaced. Vivian shrugged her shoulders and shook her head knowingly.]

Vivian: I'm having the day of my life. Besides, there's nothing dark about Kyle--save for his pecker.

      

Olivia:  I must have invoked her mirth for but a moment; since she easily went on as if I'd said "Yes love?" And even her full lips remained quite plentiful when she smiled. Her large rear hid itself from my sight as she...

[Vivian abruptly cut off Olivia with a death gaze]

Vivian: My rear's no bigger than yours, [hiss] s-s-sister. 

       What do you think of Kyle, really?

Olivia:  Good morning, Vivian. I mean, hello? You're marrying him today! A little late to be asking for opinions about a man you've already committed to--whether he is a meathead or not.

Vivian: He's a meathead--is that it?!

Olivia:  I didn't say he was. I said you can't question a commitment to a man at the last moment, whether or not he is indeed a muscle-bound clod.

Vivian: Oh, I get it. Like humor, but different. Listen... I don't need a smart man. Do you want a smart man? Oh, you probably would go for one of those spirit men or something.

Olivia:  Take care what you speak aloud.

Vivian: I have a right to my own thoughts, dear Liz.

Olivia:  I'm not worried about any thoughts in your head, dear Viv. It's the wrath of the gods--I've seen it done.

Vivian: Youuuu are such a swine's prick. Always, your nose cleanly pressed into a book... miss tidy and...

Olivia:  Don't be coy with me, Vivian.  I only care for your safety--that's all.

Vivian: If anyone should be more careful, Liz, it's you.

Olivia:  [listening]

Vivian: [She pauses holding her hair brush at her breast, allowing her long golden bangs to run through her spidery fingers. She puts the brush down on the desk in front of the mirror. Sneering victoriously, she turns to face Olivia.]

You pry into things. Everyone knows how nosy you are. The town garrison has been watching you with his own eyes.

[Vivian's face becomes effortlessly concerned, the appearance of sincerity. She approaches Olivia.]

For mourning's sake! Olivia! Gothena has seen you herself.

Olivia:  Oh don't start with that now! You're to be wed this eve. I am happy for you.

Vivian: Are you?

[Vivian and Olivia exchange eye contact for a silent time. Both smiling.]

[Vivian seats herself at the mirror; her companion follows behind her. Gently running her fingers down Vivian's hair, Olivia Dressed her friend. She took her time about it, pausing to glide her fingers over Vivian's bloodless skin. She pressed her lips carefully over Vivian's lightly speckled shoulders, but could not hold back the heavy, hot breath that escaped her lips]. 

Vivian: Liz, baby. Let's finish dressing.

Olivia: Yes, of course. We-we wouldn't want you to be late for your wedding.

[Vivian wept] Do you believe Gothena will appear before the fountain of our bondage this eve? Olivia?

      

Olivia: For few others than one as pretty as you, my love. I'm certain of it. [Kissing Vivian's forehead] She shall not miss it for the world."

[Olivia helps Vivian buckle her leather suit. A bell rings in the distance just as she finishes the last buckle.]

Vivian: Do you hear the bell? It is all coming true. Each instant, I... I feel... drawn toward him. To Kyle.

[Olivia looks up at Vivian hesitantly. Vivian nods. Olivia locks the chastity belt, and rises. Places key around Vivian's neck and kisses her on the lips.]

Olivia: I give this key to you to give to whom you choose to be your groom.

Vivian: Well, we both know who that is. [Giggling].

Olivia: God help us, yes. [Kindly smiling] Of course we do. Be blessed, love.

==COURTYARD==

       Kyle encircled the four corners of the fountain. He did so three times--in the name of the goddess. Each passing aroused the anticipation Vivian felt in her breast.

       The face of great, bygone Lidivic shone high above the other oracles of the surrounding courtyard from far off Citibaad.

       Olivia's eyes drifted over to the fountain. She admired the courtyard, the goddess fountain, and even the self centered avatar of Lidivic. Her eyes danced around the crowds, anywhere to keep her gaze from meeting Kyle's own. The glory of the woman god, Gothena, rose in her glorious armor, like still life art, but real enough to be mistaken for flesh, allowed a reassuring place for Olivia's eyes to rest inconspicuously.

Vivian: [Mumbling to herself as she scans the courtyard] The language of the spirit-men on every cornerstone of this courtyard. Their meaning escapes these fools who dance in close quarters with this majestically masonry. Even the first tier of Citibaad is a house of illiterate Goths.

[The hat dancers draw Olivia's attention away from the masonry.]

Black gowns gliding up the cobblestone steps to the south east, giving the illusion of an effortless ascent to the central courtyard. Yes, yes. Same as when Aril was wed to Joanna.

[Olivia notices the fountain is vacant. Her eyes search for Kyle. Kyle slips over to Olivia's flank unnoticed]

Kyle: I hear you're curiosity of things hidden far surpasses even Prime Minister Anton's knowledge of antiquity.

[Startled, Olivia turns] Kyle? [Turns her back. Eyes shift left to right searching for Vivian]

Kyle: You know it was said to be an old custom for a wealthy groom to take in to his house his bride's siblings as concubines. Did you know that, Liz?

[Perturbed, Olivia turned abruptly]

Olivia: No. I mean, no of course not!

[Kyle gently turns Olivia in his arms. The sound of flutes move around the two, as hat dancers bow and spit riddles of poetry to the four winds]

Olivia: [breaking out of Kyle's hold over her bosom] Anyway, we're not siblings. Just friends. But she's like a sister to me, you should know already.

Kyle: Of course I know. Word comes to my ear you collect old books. You must be one of the few literates I know in Town Centre. I'm honored to inform you that old customs still hold sway in the doldrums our times.

Olivia: If you're referring to that ridiculous custom you so despicably anticipate my interest--well, I'm not interested. A strange custom if you ask me. It's no wonder the Goths of Citibaad do not practice these old customs you speak of.

Kyle: Who says that they don't?

Olivia: [Spinning around with childish wonder] Do they? They don't! Kyle, you're jesting.

Kyle: I never said that they did... nor do I truly dare say that they do not. But your womanly curiosity is aroused none the less, is it not?

Olivia: Oh! Womanly? What exactly is it that you know about women other than your limited understanding of our physiology?

Kyle: My dear lady. [Tenderly kisses Olivia on the wrist] I beg your forgiveness, for I am indeed unlearned about women. Olivia, believe it or not, Vivian is the first woman to enter into my gloom kempt quarters alone. And it was with her alone out of all the others that we...

Olivia: Oh, please. You're to wed her in moments. Go and take your place at the fountain, unless you want to arise suspicions about the two of us.

Kyle: [Bowing in a gently mannerism that seems odd for a large man...] A suspicion I would not be so offended by; not at the very least.

[Kyle vanishes in the growing crowd of black hoods, robes, crooked hats, canes and thick coats]

Olivia: [sighing to herself] Poor Vivian. What that child must put up with.

DIARY OF OLIVIA

Alongside the women, men wearing homburgs. Some others wore only their oily hair down along the sides of their bloodless faces. At the forefront of the door to the west came beautiful ladies in burgundy velvet dresses, much like the blood red velvet I selected for my own gown. To the north stood the silent three; monks who lit the candles, set down the urns of the ancestors before the arch of time, and laid upon their hidden faces in quiet prayer. Their robes were blacker than anything garment worn by either the Goths of Citibaad or the denizens of Town Centre.

       When the monks raised their arms up in the sign of the yew tree, the wind stirred. Again, when they let their arms rest at their sashes, the air became still. Chimes sounded in the distance. Twisted wands of black and red wax were lit, and gave off sparks and sounds like a wailing banshee.

       At length the dancing began. Kyle awaited for his bride to make her way around everyone in the courtyard. The bodies of men and woman caressed Vivian. Circling every man and woman, Vivian moved like a feline. Women hissed at her neck, so that the courtyard sounded something like a nest of vipers.

       When Vivian had given attention to every man and woman in the town, and sure she wanted none other than her suitor, she went to Kyle's side at the fountain of Gothena.

       Mars was visible even through the gaseous atmosphere over Vivian's sweet head of golden braids. Kyle was tall and dark. He was sure of himself even under the weight of Mars looming above. The groom and bride locked lips under the red satellite.

       If Vivian had any disappointment in Gothena's absence at her wedding, Vivian did not so much as once look away from Kyle for an instant.

       I washed away my own disappointments with wine. It was a courtesy of the spirit-men who were wise in the creation of such luxuries. The monks brought more wine through the arch of time in the courtyard. Vanishing under its arch, I caught a glimpse of a woman of olive skin and natural black hair. Her mouth was wide, but emotionless. Her eyes were all business.

JOSEPH AT MOUNT ARCUS

Carrying the weight of his brothers on his back, the partial cyborg Joseph Smith moved mechanically up the winding steps of Mount Arcus. Waiting for him at the top of the flight was an elderly man. Joseph recognized him as Arcus, the elder who was ostracized from Babeldel. He was of great age, a being of renown abilities, and more alien looking every time Joseph laid eyes upon him--as if the elder had spent too long a time in that alien vessel, and it had transformed him into a monstrosity of the flesh. Alas, Arcus was the last true remnant of humanity, for the order of the nine ministers had enslaved the minds of those they resurrected. It mused Joseph that one who looked so inhuman was kind and wise. Yet, those fairer in flesh and held in high regard at the citadel were truly the monsters that tormented the souls of the dead.

THE GLOVE

Upper Library

Marcus Anton admires the tapestries in the high floor of the library. Devon D. locks the entrance to the lower levels of the library. Lidivic Seth studiously pours through the books in Dr. Arcus' smaller collection of antiquities in a private suite. Gripped in a vice is a glove with an open panel. Surrounding the litter of screwdrivers and needles are numerous schematics scribbled in a crabbed hand.

Marcus [mashing on grapes from the pocket of his jacket, Marcus whispers to himself]: Lovely and quiet were these halls of old days gone by. Thomas Kinkade. Painter of light. 

[Observing the custom of silence, Devon D. quietly descends the winding stair to the top floor]

Marcus: Eh? Oh--Devon. Good of you to join me, lad. A man cannot be alone too long, even if he is no longer truly a man.

Devon [partly smiling]: Surely my colleague knows that eating is prohibited in the library. 

Marcus: Indeed [mashing on a second grape] your colleague knows it. But your professor also knows better than to waste haggling over conventions no longer in the service of those who've outlived their enforcements. Besides, being older--and possibly the wiser--does have its priviledges, if not the advantages of enthusiasm.

Devon: Yes, professor. [Uncorks bottle of Burgundy]

Marcus: Hmm. I see that silly old rule you so curtly conjured up hasn't stopped our best man from drinking when and where he wants?

Devon: [Opens panel on the wall behind a painting of lush green and purple lands broken by streams of luminous waters. Pulls out two glasses. Fills the first near full.]: And just what the professor ordered.

Marcus [licking dry stained lips]: Yes, indeed. No--fill it up to the max. Go on, fill it till it near spills. No need to be conservative.

[Devon and Marcus drink three glasses each before taking up more wine from the panel].

Marcus: You remember how lovely this private floor was in the halcyon days, don't you?

Devon: [Speaking almost inaudibly into his drink] Yes. [Swallows hard] I do.

Marcus: Thomas Kinkade. Painter of light. A pity old Jon never did build that refuge in the mountains he so loved. These paintings. All of them entirely preserved well over two centuries. [Regarding Devon sideways] You've been a fine keeper and caretaker of this place, lad.

Devon: I've done what I can. Taking care. Taking time to think. Sometimes just listening.

Marcus: Perhaps you've done 'all' that you can. [Marcus now turned to face Devon].

Devon: I know.

Marcus: Perhaps it is time for you to leave this place. Put the past to rest.

Devon: This place... I hear the past as plain as it were yesterday--albeit, a hologram of sounds filters into my inner ear at this very moment. I sometimes just listen until madness seizes me.

Marcus: [Taking a deep drink] I'm going to ask you to come back with us.

Devon: I-I can't. I just can't leave all this...

Marcus: I won't accept 'no' for an answer. You wither away here. In Babeldel you will be reborn a god. Others will do your labors--while you, yourself, are free to pursue your destiny.

Devon: Professor?

Marcus: Pour us another drink. Such discussions can make a man feel dry.

Devon: [sigh of relief] I'm with you. Another bottle of Burgundy?

Marcus: 'Course. None other. It's the blood of the gods.

Devon: Aye. 'Blood of the gods' for two it is!

Marcus: Toast! You go first.

Devon: To Jon.

Marcus: To Jon it is.

[Lidivic descends the stairs from the far side the upper library]

Marcus: Ah, young master Lidivic. He's finished his pillaging of Jon's property at last. He probably expects us in the dinning hall. Better go over and catch up with him.

Devon: I'll stay behind...

[Marcus looking concerned]

Devon: To close the private library for the last time, and to seal Jon's private quarters.

THE GLOVE

Dining Hall

Devon Prepares a meal for his guests, Lidivic Seth and Marcus Anton in the dinning room. The three sit down for a meal at an overly large table--where once upon a time the nine seated themselves here to learn the wisdom of Jon Arcus, and to realize the world's most terrible fate was reversible only by decoding the Lore of Dead Authors.

Marcus [already eating]

Lidivic [silently penning notes alongside his untouched supper plate]

Devon [passing another helping of weasel stew to Marcus]

Marcus: Ah. Another fine meal prepared by our more than generous host. Bless you, Devon! You have some very handy talents.

Devon: I'm flattered to say the least.

Marcus: Ah, but it's true. Not one of the maidens can cook up such a fine feast as you've mastered. Not one, I tell you!

Devon: I could advise them when I've settled down in Citibaad.

Lidivic: [Pen lands in his soup bowl next to the silver plate of assorted breads] Oh, w-what? Did I miss something while the two of you drank the daylight away?

Marcus: Only the finest paintings of daylight you'll not ever see in the worlds to come--nor in the dark centuries to pass.

Lidivic: You're flare for words is such a talent, Marcus. I wonder how you manage to say so much and eat so much more than the rest of us at the same time.

Marcus: Why, I out to teach you some of my talents, young minister. Two and a half thousand years from now, and you'll be able to hold a steady conversation half as well as this old boy.

Devon: If I may?

Marcus: Oh, please-please, be seated with us and dine.

Devon: Thank you.

Lidivic: So?

Devon: I have decided to come with you to Citibaad--if it's no burden? I'd like help in anyway that I can.

Lidivic: Burden? Why don't be silly. Marcus and I were hoping you'd join us anyway.

Devon: Yes. I gathered as much. All the same, I'm afraid that I might be of a burden to your plans.

Lidivic: Oh?

Marcus: Don't be a half-wit, Lidivic! You know as well as I do that he has watched over this library of treasures for two hundred years. Likewise, he'd relish the idea of getting as far away from this city as possible.

Lidivic: I think I understand. It would be a burden more for you than for me.

Marcus: Us.

Lidivic: Of course, Marcus. We planned our route to the loft of Tempus together, remember. I was merely taking the burden as a scapegoat for us.

Marcus: Oh, yes of course. Lidivic the charitable. I remember now.

Lidivic [musing at the pen in his soup]  

Devon: [Interrupting] Ahem. I will go with you to Tempus if you so wish. To be frank, I'd much like to recover the Zodiacron to study it a bit more.

Lidivic: Is that so?

Marcus: I don't see any reason why not. I mean...

Lidivic: [abruptly interrupts] Your food's getting cold, dear friend. Let us discuss it further over in the head master's private study.

Devon: [Wearing an unreadable expression] Agreed.

THE GLOVE

Headmaster's Private Study

Bio-lamps illuminate gradually upon sensing the three warmth bodies entering the headmaster's private study.

Lidivic [Seating himself at Jon's desk]

Marcus [Seating himself in a wide, leather club chair]

Devon [preparing coffee]

Lidivic: Never would I have expected you to abandon your library so readily.

Devon: Jon's library. I merely kept it tidy in memory of our savior.

Lidivic: Savior, yes--well, you've kept yourself busy over two and a half centuries, haunting these halls as if they were your own.

Devon: I won't deny a certain sense of lordship; if one truly believes that his own home is indeed his castle. Yet, contradictorily, this is not my own home.

Lidivic: Are we then to believe that our Devon D. has existed here without taking upon himself certain liberties?

Marcus: Oh, what are you getting at, Lidivic?! Two hundred years have elapsed without a word from Jon. He's long been dead--or at best we should consider him to be.

Lidivic: This is precisely my point. Our humble host has been careful not to mention much over the remnants of Jon's work. Some of it was left behind.

Devon: As I had said since that first day you arrived here nearly two years ago, I was never given the wisdom of Jon's work. And so I avoiding prying into his personal study room.

Marcus: There. You see. Devon wouldn't know anything about Jon's secretive works--if Jon indeed had any. Personally, I think it's a bunch of rubbish. Jon never had time with all the preparation and training he'd given us.

Lidivic: Time? What is time to a wizard? And such a wizard was Dr. Arcus.

Marcus: I still don't understand. Lidivic? Be frank. What are you going on about?

Devon: [sigh]. Coffee's ready. One for you dear Marcus. Lidivic. I'll prepare my own.

Lidivic: Of course. Thank you. Marcus? You know that there was a manual Jon kept which had been decoded from the alien scripted language of the dark spheres.

Marcus: Partially decoded, young lord.

Lidivic: No, Marcus. It was decoded.

Marcus: You mean to tell me that Jon Arcus decoded the entire manual himself?

Lidivic: Or nearly decoded the manual to its entirety.

Devon: But, not alone.

Marcus: [Astonished] Why, Devon... what do you mean? Not alone?

Lidivic: Exactly.

Marcus: It's too incredible. He spoke of no one else aiding him in the translation of that manual. And even if there was an aid from outside our order, half the book itself was missing!

Lidivic: You're ordinarily much sharper. I'm amused that you do not see the answer plainly, even when it is looking back at you!

Marcus: Devon?

Devon: Oh, not me old friend. Jon never asked for assistance from anyone. As you say, it is rubbish. Must you go on Lidivic?

Marcus: [Takes a deep swallow of the bitter sweet coffee] Young lord Lidivic, then. Jon was a sharp judge of character, but I suspected that he'd faltered with some of his choices.

Lidivic: Correct! And yet not so.

Devon: [Speaking into his cup] Interesting.

Marcus: [Ignoring Devon] I do not see where he intended for you to be in the light of things. Explain. Go on already.

Lidivic: We all kept in the dark. Jon knew our personalities well enough to wager when we'd err.

Marcus: [interrupting with a loud cough] You mean to say that Jon hoped we'd falter in some manner.

Lidivic: No. I mean to say that Jon knew nearly without a doubt that Marcus Anton would see the autocracy better suited under the rule of a theocracy. He understood my weak points as well.

Marcus: I like a good mystery as much as the next intellectual, but I do not see how it is that you've arrived at this conclusion. Is this not but merely your own conjecture? Or do you have evidence to support your facts?

Devon: Me.

Marcus: Me? What do you mean 'me'?

Devon: I am the evidence you seek.

Marcus: [looking at Lidivic, and back at Devon] Well, when you're both done being indiscrete, I'd very much like to hear your explanation.

[Silence] 

Marcus: Either one of you! For pity sake, spit out the fat.

Devon: [Lidivic nods] After assembling the ministry for its mission to save--or resurrect rather...

Marcus: Yes, I know this part already. I didn't tag along deaf and dumb.

Lidivic: Hear him out, Marcus.

Devon: Thank you. As I was saying... after the ministry was established and distributed across the globe, Jon called upon Lidivic, seven others, and myself. We were given special instructions never to disclose our purpose with the other members of the order.

Marcus: An invisible elite in the hierarchy of the order?

Devon: Not quite. We were instructed not to alter the decisions of the ministers, but to observe only and maintain our secret pact--

Lidivic: Along with various duties to carry out.

Devon: Duties, yes. Mainly to keep quiet. Which we've now just broken by telling you.

Marcus: Well, then? What other duties did Jon give you?

Lidivic: To keep various secrets. Some of which I keep to this day.

Devon: And to log everything.

Marcus: A lot of good that would do you. Every book in the Citadel was probably burned up or lost in the war against Necrotep.

Devon: We did not log everything into journals alone, for which I still keep quite a collection here in my own quarters of this library.

Marcus: [?]

Lidivic: A journal would be prone to dishonest and biased entries.

Marcus: You mean to tell me that you logged everything into the Zodiacron? Along with all records of the ministry's activities?

Devon [turns his back to his companions to make more coffee]

Lidivic: Yes. That is indeed what I am telling you.

Marcus: I can see that there are many good reasons to get the Zodiacron back into our possession. But, these reasons dwarfed next to what you have just told me now.

Devon: You're right, professor. But, there is another reason. One we all wish to know.

Lidivic: Yes.

Marcus: Go on, young sorcerer.

Devon: The bio-telepathic structure of the citadel is unstable.

Lidivic: Yes, and apparently Necrotep had managed to control the citadel when he last manifested.

Devon: With the Zodiacron we could re-wire the chaos mechanism to block out Necrotep's species for good.

Lidivic: And of more immediate importance is the means for restoring the seals to the prison of Necrotep.

Devon: As well as how to construct new devices for doing the same with other such menaces from beyond the spheres.

Marcus: I believe professor knows best here. The two of you are forgetting one very important distinction between the necrotep seals and the cog-helm to control the citadel. The book of dead authors is the secret to the seals, and that portion of the book is also missing.

Lidivic: A temporary set back.

Devon: The other half of the book, along with what we suspect to be an entire library of books beyond our current technology, rests inside the soul grid of that computer.

Marcus: The Zodiacron contains the key seals and the other half of the book?

Lidivic: And much, much more old Marcus! As I've been in touch with the neurotep circuit's god-form, I am now aware of a means for securing the citadel, as well as for snuffing out the location of that Zodiacron. I've finished the last component to building the glove of souls. I will explain it to you in due time how it might be used to refortify our citadel, and in acquiring the Zodiacron from the Order of the Cloth.

Marcus: There is not much else ones such as us could want.

Devon: Yes. I agree. I would like to study the Zodiacron myself, having never had a chance to actually use it.

Lidivic: Of course. And study it we shall do together. But getting it is going to be a problem.

Marcus: Why? What could possibly stand between us and the crater filled ruins of Tempus?

Devon: The mutants.

Lidivic: I've suspected as much.

Marcus: I don't mean to sound absurd. But, what mutants are there? And why should we have any trouble with them?

Lidivic: Do you recall the tower of skulls we came across on the pier of this city? Near the waste cap?

Marcus: The smoking mountain of skulls and brimstone? Yes. What of it? Are the mutants the ones responsible for that shrine to death?

Devon: It seems true, old Marcus.

Marcus: Why didn't you say anything before? We've only been your guests here for a couple of years already.

Devon: When you've been locked up in a place like this for as long as I have, well, one starts to doubt one's senses.

Marcus: As you were saying this afternoon in the upper level of the library... hearing voices and so on?

Devon: Yes. Naturally, I believed I had managed to go mad.

Lidivic: You may yet go mad if you linger on here. In any event, we must find a means of moving through the city without being seen.

Devon: Don't forget. When we arrive at Tempus, expect a welcoming party. Or maybe they won't welcome us.

Marcus: We had ordered that rat scrapped cloister of sub humans to be exterminated along with that rogue criminal---that, what's-his-name?

Lidivic: It's of no matter.

Marcus: Easy for you to say, treacherous youngling.

Devon: Now, let us not bicker over the past. We've a lot to plan out for our journey across the threshold.

Marcus: Threshold?

Lidivic: Devon?

Devon: Well, my friends... you don't expect us to go walking out into the open?

Marcus: A secret passage perhaps?

Devon: Even better.

Lidivic: I see. This is one of your own secrets, then?

Devon: Yes. Well, we'll all have to give up something of what we know if want to make it across the city graveyard intact.

Marcus: Well, what is it exactly?

Devon: A door of sorts.

Lidivic: A portal. Of course. Your talent with space/time.

Devon: Yes. As you say. A portal through the threshold of the big city.

Lidivic: Good! I never liked the Rotten Apple anyway.

Marcus: Well, then. Tell us, Devon. What's our plan?

Devon: We have to secure the doors behind us. Not the ones downstairs in the library hall, of course. I've already sealed those years ago. When we leave by way of the basement passage, we will enter the adjacent building. From there inside is a locked office. At the back of the office is a door leading to our next destination. I'm afraid that we should be on our way as soon as possible. So, I'll explain more as we go--provided we can speak without attracting the hunters outside. Lidivic? Bring your glove. If it is true that it will help us acquire the Zodiacron, we must not leave without it by mistake.

Lidivic: I'll put it on to ensure we do not leave it.

Marcus: Good. What can I do?

Devon: Grab some wine.

Lidivic: This is no time for jests, Devon!

Devon: No jest. I think that if your glove does not acquire us the Zodiacron, we could at least bribe the cloth with a drink.

Marcus: Hardly likely. But, I don't have any better ideas at the moment. And I've no qualms about bringing some drink along the way .

Devon: Let's be about it.

Lidivic: What will you do? Devon?

Devon: We need to break one last oath.

THRESHOLD

Mutants storm the streets below, as one howl alerts the pack to a light aloft the towering building of the Arcus library.

Devon: Wait! Listen.

Marcus: God, man. Did you hear that mournful soul?

Lidivic: Quiet, Marcus.

Devon: They're looking for an entrance. It will take them some time before they find a way in. Hurry! This way!