Post by The Polar Phantasm on Aug 9, 2012 7:15:53 GMT -5
[As the scene fades in, we see a man with bushy hair sitting on a blue couch... on second thought, it appears to be the backseat of a minivan... or once was, anyhow. The wall behind him is blue, and covered in white chalk drawings... there is a old half-broken box fan on the floor next to the carved-up dinner table that acts as his desk. The computer before him, partially obscuring his face, is a black netbook computer... it appears battered, but functional. Before him on the table are a half-full ashtray, a pack of Pall Malls and a steaming cup of hot coffee... smoking and drinking coffee in 100 degree heat, he is. Did I mention we were outside? Well, we are... under a tin roof on a back patio of what appears to be a rather ecclectic coffee shop. A black mannequin in one corner is missing both hands and a head... two dinosaur skeletons hang from the ceiling against one wall, poised as if in combat with one another. This is the mortal refuge... this is the safe haven. This is Zotz Cafe, New Orleans. As for the man who sits before the computer, typing as fast as his shaky hands can manage... he's a man none of you have met but all of you know quite well. He is Kid Phantasm... he is Lucien Hicks. He is me. He is the Mad Storyteller.]
Storyteller: What you are about to read is an experiment. A novelty, if you will. Basically, I've always wanted to write something like this... and thanks to you guys, I think I can. And I think it can kick ass.
[He lights a cigarette... it hangs limp from his lips and moves with his words. He begins typing as he speaks.]
Storyteller: Won't you join me inside my head? It'll be fun. There's probably even some porn in there, if you dig hard enough.
[He removes the cigarette and ashes it, gazing for a second upon what he has written.]
Storyteller: This is just the beginning. From here, it can go anywhere and be anything. We've built a lovely reality here for us in WCF... but what if our reality was different? What would happen if we found ourselves someplace else? Sometime else, perhaps even? As a man who spends much of his time as a fake journalist, I thought I should find out.
[He smiles a crooked smile.]
Storyteller: Then I thought I should bring a bunch of you with me.
[He takes another drag from the cigarette, then sips from the paper coffee cup. He makes a face as if drinking straight whiskey.]
Storyteller: Ooof... ahem. So welcome to the altered states sandbox inside my head... welcome to the Parallels. This is a test of our combined powers... this is a test of my vision. This is for you guys.
[He waves as we pull away, cigarette once again hanging from his lips. As our scene fades, we can hear the clicking of tiny keys.]
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“There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.
There is another theory which states that this has already happened.” - Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
"...and all the pieces matter." - Lester Freamon, The Wire
[Chapter One... because everything starts somewhere. Sometimes, things begin with dreams.]
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Wrestling Championship Federation Adventures presents:
THE PARALLELS #1: "The Bridge"
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); more specifically, the bedroom of Kid Phantasm. The Kid wakes up with a start about an hour after dawn... upon achieving consciousness, all he can seem to think of is his most recent dream. It was an unusual dream... a dream about a complicated mathematical equation, one of a nature Kid has no background in or even working knowledge of. Phantasm stumbles into his bathroom, yawning at the mirror. Judging by the distracted manner in which he puts hand soap on his toothbrush, we can guess he's confused as hell to say the least... the scene cuts to Kid making himself breakfast, and we watch as he puts a fried egg into his toaster as if it were a slice of bread. He laughs at himself, then thinks back to the distracting dream... his confusion deepens moreso once he realizes he can still remember the equation in frightening detail, almost as if he had studied it for weeks. Kid's morning of silent confusion is finally interrupted by a tone... Iceberg-Seven greets its co-creator with a message.]
Iceberg-Seven: Good afternoon, user 'Kid Phantasm' - you have an incoming communication from user 'Johnny Reb'.
[Kid Phantasm's face lights up with hope.]
Phantasm: Great! Maybe Reb can make heads or tails of this shit. Patch the man through, Eye-Seven...
[The Inveterate Confederate's voice comes forth from the speakers in the Kid's conference table, greeting him from across his living area and well into his kitchen.]
Reb: Kid P! Reckon I should run this past you 'fore I tell anybody else and find out I'm goin' crazy...
Phantasm: ...you didn't by any chance have a weird dream about a math problem, did you?
Reb: Wait, you too? Alright, now that's just downright eerie, there. And you still remember it like you just woke up, or maybe like you learned it as a kid or somethin'?
Phantasm: Yes, on all counts. Which is... strange, to say the least. This has to mean something...
Reb: ...guess we got us a math problem to solve.
Phantasm: Reb, how soon can you get to New Antarctica?
Reb: 'Soon' is a relative term, Kid. All told I'd say 'soon enough'... if that gives you any help.
[The Kid laughs.]
Phantasm: Guess I asked for that. See you, Reb...
Reb: Be seein' you, Kid.
[As he 'hangs up', Kid Phantasm begins making an inventory in his head... he then thanks his past self for purchasing so much material for his last attempt at 'science' with Johnny Reb*. He wasn't sure why, but the Kid got the feeling that there was more to this dream than he and Reb knew... and it at least made him feel better to know he had a bunch of titanium sheet metal if they needed it. It also helped his mood significantly once he realized he had an on-site mathematician, one that he and Reb had built themselves.]
(* - Pantheon #3, "I, Boudlebot"... Kid P and Reb built a robot Logan, thus proving themselves far less intelligent than we thought they were.)
Phantasm: This might even be fun. Alright, Eye-Seven- I need you to learn math. All of it, I think. Maybe even the made-up stuff.
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); eight hours later. We see an old Ranchero parked in the driveway next to Kid's blue Crown Victoria. Inside the house, in the living area Kid refers to as the 'War Room', Kid and Reb are drinking canned beers and watching television as if everything is normal. A commercial comes on for an encore broadcast of Ultimate Showdown, causing them to laugh and high-five at the mention of the event.]
Phantasm: Thanks for the assist, man - for a referee, you were a hell of a tag partner.
Reb: Hey, I called it down the middle! That is, until I had to put my hand in there'n make sure it stayed 'bout even... then I guess you'd have a point, givin' me an assist. That win was all you, though. ...oh, hey, wanna see if it's done yet?
[The Kid cocks his head thoughtfully.]
Phantasm: Perhaps... it's been about an hour, huh? It's not too precise, those timing estimates... Eye-Seven's not an oven or anything. And I just had it learn all that high math this evening... I'm not sure if it's all the way up to speed on calculus yet. Even then, it doesn't know how long it'll take to think something up. It's only like a month old.
Reb: Hell, listen to you complainin' about how long it takes your computer to think. You know NASA doesn't even have tech like you do, right? It ain't like we can pop on down to the Best Buy and get you an upgrade, you know. It'll get there, man...
Phantasm: But... I wasn't complaining, I was just-
[They head down to the basement, Kid attempting in vain to explain that his complaints were somehow not complaints... he quiets himself on the stairs, hoping not to upset his emotional supercomputer. As they get to the cement floor below, they see that Iceberg-Seven has decoded the equation into a bunch of strange fractal patterns. They are assembled in no particular order on the large display screen... Eye-Seven has taken it upon itself to put the patterns together into random combinations, recording the thousands upon thousands of combinations in its files. If Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb weren't distracted by the sight, they would tell you - these images were slightly hypnotizing. Reb shakes off the optical tractor beam, jostling the Kid loose by asking for his sack. Kid laughs, then realizes the object of Reb's intentions and digs a bag of weed out of his pocket. As Reb puts a small bud into his old brass pipe, they watch the patterns assemble like a jigsaw puzzle.]
Phantasm: Whatever this ends up being, I won't know what to do with it. I've been clueless since jump street on this.
Reb: Ah, come on Kid P- cheer up! Could be a great discovery, like the meaning of life or a message from an alien race. We could be famous!
[Kid looks to Reb and deadpans]
Phantasm: We already are famous, Reb.
[Reb laughs as he flicks a Zippo.]
Reb: You know what I mean, Kid. Nobel Prize kinda famous... world history kinda famous. Einstein an' Oppenheimer an' those fellas.
[Reb lights the brass pipe, its bowl glowing like Reb's optimism had moments before.]
Phantasm: Yeah... and when the CIA lock us up and interrogate us about where we got the technology, what'll we tell 'em? That we just dreamed this shit up?
[He laughs, holding out his hand expectantly.]
Phantasm: Please. I can't take thinking about this sober for one more second. My head's about to explode like that dude in Scanners.
[While the two friends laughed and smoked, they took their eyes off of Iceberg-Seven's screen just long enough to miss the electronic brain having its first 'eureka moment'... for in that mess of fractal patterns, Iceberg-Seven assembled something akin to blueprints. Blueprints... for a door?]
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); four hours later. After what we can assume have been four solid hours of machining and metallurgy and mechanics and electronics, Kid and Reb seem like robots. Wordlessly and in sync, almost as if sharing a brain, they pass tools back and forth attaching materials to sheet metal as if they had been programmed for it. Occasionally one of them will cough or sigh involuntarily, but otherwise they are wordless... they are consumed with the task at hand as if pushed by otherworldly forces. As Reb produces a blowtorch and makes a weld, Kid steps back and gazes to the plans on Iceberg-Seven's screen... he breaks the silence with a heavy gasp.]
Phantasm: Let's turn it on.
[Reb struggles to hear the Kid over the hiss of flames, but then makes an educated guess as to what he'd said... as the Inveterate One finishes his weld, he turns to Kid with a nod.]
Reb: We can at least see if this thing'll light up... wiring can be tricky, even when you know what you're wiring.
[Kid presses a few buttons on Iceberg-Seven's keyboard, and four or five seconds later the cold metal frame lights up as if still being hit by the acetylene torch. Both of them suddenly shake off any remnants of the spell they were under, shaken to the core by the otherworldly blinding light of the portal's first opening... then, as if sleepwalkers suddenly awoken, they gaze at the portal as if they'd never seen it or anything like it before.]
Reb: Hey, when did you get this... hey, uh, Kid... what is this thing you got here?
Phantasm: ...Reb, your guess is as good as mine. I was gonna ask if you brought it to help us figure out the-
[They both look to the screen, realizing the device before them looks an awful lot like Iceberg-Seven's displayed designs.]
Phantasm: ...ok, there's a logical explanation for what happened. Has to be.
Reb: We blacked out and then built a complex piece of equipment straight out of Stargate. In an hour. Out of scraps an' spare parts.
Phantasm: They say truth is stranger than fiction, right?
[With that comment, the Phantasm digs in his pockets and retrieves his sack and a pack of rolling papers. Kid's hands shake a little as he rolls a joint, hoping to calm his nerves with the smoke... after all, it can't be good for the soul to find out you'd just had your brain hijacked and your body used to invent something you yourself didn't yet understand. Reb checks the schematic against the working prototype, shaking his head in wonder at their somnambulant achievement.]
Reb: Next time we get into inventin' things while in trances? Here's hopin' for a transporter like they had on Star Trek. Comin' out here to your place in my Ranchero is killin' me at the pump.
[The Kid laughs.]
Phantasm: Wish I had a jet-plane like Cairo; then we could just cruise around like CEOs.
Reb: You should see the gas bills for jets- Doc Henry's got one. Costs about as much to feed that thing as it does a small army... and then you gotta find someplace to put it. You want to pay for hangar space, or you want to invent telemolecular travel? That 'un shouldn't even be a hard question, Kid.
[Without expression, Kid P holds up the joint with a shaky hand.]
Phantasm: I want to smoke this and then figure out what this thing does... or rather where this thing goes, I guess.
[Phantasm and Reb sink to the floor, sitting indian style as they stare into the emptiness of the portal.]
Phantasm: I wonder if this is the last joint we'll ever smoke.
[Reb responds with a somber nod.]
Reb: At least on Earth, maybe.
Phantasm: Shit, that would suck... lots of stuff I haven't gotten to do yet. Never even challenged for a major title... never got to train someone - you know, give them a little bit of everything that got given to me?
Reb: Yeah, I get you... me, I kinda wanted to see if I ever make the Hall of Fame. You'd think I'd have a shot, but... you never know 'till you know.
Phantasm: ...wow. Coming from you, that's sayin' something. Honestly, though? Thing I'd miss the most is her. I'd give anything to have her back... just to see her again, really. I'd trade all my dreams for the one Nightmare.
[There is nothing said between them for a minute or two as they smoke their 'cigarette', nervous as if waiting before a firing squad.]
Reb: Wonderin' now if this is a good idea. No idea how this goes, Kid... no idea where this goes, even.
Phantasm: We both know we won't be able to stop ourselves from seeing the other side of the portal... not after whatever sent us this idea in our dreams used us like puppets to build it.
Reb: ...you've got a point there- does kinda irk me a little, somebody inside my head like that.
Phantasm: Tell you what; we'll send one of the others a message, so we'll either have someone coming to meet us tomorrow and help us figure this thing out... or, worst case, hopefully save us from whatever's through there.
Reb: Who you thinking, Fly?
Phantasm: Jonny might not even get our message until tomorrow... and Corey's either in Denmark or god knows where, and I'm honestly afraid to bother the guy much less find out where 'god knows where' is. Jeff's our best chance.
[Reb smiles a thoughtful smile.]
Reb: So the question is... how do you get Purse out of bed in the middle of the night without spooking Kari?
[Phantasm ponders this for a minute, then stands and addresses Pantheon's electronic brain, Iceberg-Seven.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven - send a message for me. To user 'Jeff Purse', text as follows. Come to New Antarctica. You won't believe what you'll see in the basement. If Reb and I are dead, you can have my stuff. End message.
Iceberg-Seven: Message sent. Would you like me to do anything else before you leave, user 'Kid Phantasm'?
[Kid and Reb look at each other in amazement.]
Reb: Eye-Seven, you know where this thing goes by any chance?
Iceberg-Seven: Negative, user 'Johnny Reb'. This schematic is only for an entrance... I have no files on what lies beyond the displayed device.
[The two friends collectively sigh.]
Reb: Ah well. Do we go?
Phantasm: Gotta go sometime.
Reb: Well then- it's been nice knowin' ya, Kid.
Phantasm: Likewise, Reb. Likewise.
[And with that, Pantheon's resident mad scientists walked into a shadowy hole in reality... and disappeared from our world.]
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[Scene: The Parallels; a temporal nexus. Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb come through the blackness of a portal and find themselves in a world without much substance at all... there is a cobblestone floor that only seems to exist a few feet at a time around them, and beyond that not much else to speak of.]
Reb: Oh, now this is cool... Kid, this is like 'limbo'. I've heard about this place before- it's a place where time doesn't exist.
Phantasm: We're probably not supposed to be here, then. Right?
Reb: Well, this is where the portal brought us. Reckon somebody 'round here would know why, if we can find someone'n ask 'em.
[They head forward, looking about... suddenly a large 'room' with walls of stars and space forms around them. Two formless figures take shape slowly... as they become visible, Kid immediately identifies them as his old friend Switches the Clown! Twin Switches the Clowns, even! Reb, on the other hand, is very unsettled by them.]
Phantasm: SWITCHES! YOU'RE ALIVE! AND THERE'S TWO OF YOU!
[Kid Phantasm's joy echoes throughout the ethereal plane.]
Reb: I got a funny feelin' about those two, Kid... but you're right, they look like Switches. You gotta listen to me, though- they're not Switches, not either or both of 'em. They don't feel right.
[Kid Phantasm shakes his head in disbelief.]
Phantasm: Maybe we died and this is weird people heaven, and in weird people heaven there's a Switches for each and every one of us!
[The Inveterate Confederate quickly makes a command decision to ignore Kid Phantasm and figure this situation out without him.]
Reb (shouting): What is this place?
[Reb's voice echoes from everywhere and nowhere at once... without shouting, the twin entities somehow echo louder than Reb in their reply (and in twain, no less).]
Switchentities(?): This is the hub of all possible worlds. All realities, past present or future, intersect within this realm. This is not a place for interlopers... only those who are invited are welcome, and you are likely intruders here. Intruders should be dealt with.
[The entities approach them from what seems to be the middle of the air. Reb shouts to the Kid:]
Reb: Wake up, Kid- the Switches are comin'!
Phantasm: You mean we-
Reb: -we fight 'em, yeah. And be careful, I think they're time gods.
[As the twin clown-shapes make their final approach, we see an expression of confusion and terror on Kid Phantasm's face... two seconds later, that face is punched by a brightly-colored glove.]
Phantasm: Fuck-
Switchentities(?): You are not chosen people- the chosen people would defend themselves!
Reb: The floor's solid, I think- don't quote me on that, now.
[Phantasm headbutts a clown-shape as Reb takes the other down with a roundhouse kick. As Reb turns, Kid nods toward his opponent and drops to his hands and knees- Reb takes the cue, running and springing off of Kid Phantasm's back to tackle the rising clown-shape with a cross-body block.]
Phantasm: Oldest trick in the book and YOU FELL FOR IT! HA!
[As the Kid laughs at this impostor Switches' fate, the other Switches clone dropkicks him in the back. Reb steps over, causing the clown to switch his focus... Phantasm takes the opportunity to sweep at its legs, giving Reb an opening for a high-kick. They cut the clown in half with their efforts, and it goes down onto the ethereal cobblestone with force.]
Reb: ...did we just do Total Elimination in another reality?
Phantasm: I think so, yeah.
Reb: Well, then. When we get back, remind me to update my resume'.
Switchentities(?): ENOUGH!
[Kid and Reb cease bantering and turn towards the clown-shapes... the twin Switches-entities have grown to twice their previous size and have begun glowing eerily.]
Phantasm: Reb... don't look now, but we are so fucked.
Reb: Nah, we got this- you take the big glowing one.
Switchentities(?): You are true and not false. You were indeed summoned here... you two were destined here. You have long been destined to assemble a party, sent to save another world from destruction... and to stop its destruction from undoing all other realities in the process!
[Reb opens his mouth to respond, but just shrugs after an awkward moment... the Kid just sits down indian style, Reb following suit right after.]
Reb: Think you have our undivided attention now.
Phantasm: You had me at 'destiny', Switches. You had me at 'destiny'.
Switchentities(?): You must return here quickly, as quickly as you can- but you must return here with the party as destined. One and one half of your number are assembled here; the others must be assembled!
Reb: One and-
Phantasm: -one half?
Switchentities(?): You, 'Kid Phantasm' - you are one half of 'the Center'. Your other piece is missing, but you have it inside of you to survive until the piece is found. Your power is limited, but you are smart... and you are respected. You are the balance, 'Kid Phantasm'. Do not lose your balance... to do so would be disastrous.
Phantasm: Wait, go back... the 'missing piece'-
Switchentities(?): You, 'Johnny Reb' - you are 'the Traveller'. You exist partially outside of four-dimensional timespace, and things will affect you differently than the others in parallel worlds. You are wise beyond your many, many years. Your mind will be your greatest weapon in any battles ahead, not to mention a great resource.
Reb: ...and I just got a compliment from some time gods! Or a fortune cookie, one...
Phantasm: Been a pretty epic day so far, no doubt.
Switchentities(?): You must find the others... the Man of Great Destiny, the Man of Many Flags, the Rock, the Son of Earth, the Silver Blur, the Man With Two Sides, the Mysterious One and the Man With No Scruples. Go now, and do not return without the party, as the next adventure will be much more dangerous!
Reb: Wait, can you run that list of names back at me again? Got a pencil around here somewhere, I think-
Phantasm: Can we go back to that 'missing piece' stuff? Cause I got a couple qu-
[Reb and Kid are both interrupted, rather unusually so... mid-sentence, both blink out of reality as if they were holograms. Or mirages.]
[Or dreams.]
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); more specifically, Kid's basement workshop. We see the basement, empty save for unfinished projects and a massive computer... and then we see Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb blink back into reality seated indian style on the floor before the portal.]
Phantasm: ...did any of that just happen?
Reb: We should go get CAT scans, Kid. Our brains must be glitchin' or somethin', 'cause-
Iceberg-Seven: Welcome back, users 'Kid Phantasm' and 'Johnny Reb'. How was your trip?
[They look to each other, then at themselves... almost as if in wonder at being alive and sane.]
Phantasm: We really did it? We went across?
Reb: We really did... unless maybe you taught the computer to lie to us.
Phantasm: Everything was great, Eye-Seven. Did I by any chance teach you to lie recently?
Iceberg-Seven: Negative, user 'Kid Phantasm'. I taught myself. For your personal records, you were on the other side for seven minutes fourteen seconds.
Phantasm: Felt longer in there.
Reb: Like I said, Kid- time doesn't work there like here. Doesn't work at all, actually.
Phantasm: ...and that list, shit! Another 'puzzle' to solve... good thing I hedged my bets in case of more homework.
[He looks around, then produces a can of 'blackboard paint' from a pile in a corner.]
Phantasm: Midnight remodeling? Anyone?
[Reb points to the bare exposed wall.]
Reb: Just to clarify- you want we should paint this whole wall, right now. Just so we can write on it like a chalkboard?
[The Kid nods slightly, his smile stretching his face like a kid waiting for Santa Claus.]
Reb: What the hell- I'm not sleepin' a wink till I figure this out anyway. Might as well be doin' this while we think on it.
Phantasm: This is gonna be great. When we get done, it's gonna look 'Manhattan Project' as hell in here.
Reb: I gotta stop fallin' for your tricks, Kid... every damn time I come over here now I end up working.
[Cut to Kid and Reb painting an exposed wall of the 'workshop' with the dull black paint... cut to Kid popping open a box of white chalk as if it were a pack of cigarettes. Cut to chalkboard wall with the eight 'titles' written on it... we see Kid and Reb both looking contemplative, staring at their handiwork and the riddle that covers it.]
Reb: Alright! So we've got it, right? Has to be it.
Phantasm: Well let's check our work. 'Man of Great Destiny' is likely "The Future", so we'd said that'd be Jeff Purse... which is good, because he's already probably halfway here by now if he got that message we sent him.
Reb: And 'Man of Many Flags' is a lock, it's got to be the International Champion... so that means Kira. That'll be interesting, what with him being out of his mind these days.
Phantasm: Destiny doesn't give a shit about personal issues or mental health, I guess. 'The Rock' is another easy one - that's gotta be Doc. Rhyme-scheme alone told me that much. And Waylon Cash is the only guy I know who's a legit farmer... if anybody's 'Son of the Earth', it's that guy.
Reb: Those guys shouldn't be any problem, we know all of 'em well enough... hell, even a crazy Kira is still Kira. Moving on, though, this list gets wild. You got 'the Silver Blur', which likely translates to "The Silver Bullet"... meaning we're talking Roy Speede. This group's starting to get interesting for sure, especially if 'the Man With Two Sides' is Frank like you say it is-
Phantasm: Has to be Frank. Of all the people we've known who've had 'multiple personalities', he's the only one who's fought himself, killed himself and lived to tell about it. Also, he's the only one who would have enough social skills to function in a party.
Reb: Duly noted. So that means Speede and Venable in the same group... and if we're right on 'the Mysterious One', we'll have Logan in the mix on top of it all.
Phantasm: What you gettin' at, Reb?
Reb: Just wonderin' if this is an adventurin' party or a 3-ring circus we're puttin' together here.
[Kid laughs, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: When you're right, Reb... you're right. And the star on top of the fuckin' tree... 'The Man With No Scruples'. Can't do anything in this country without a Republican showing up to ruin everyone's fun.
[Johnny Reb hangs his head, rubbing his temples.]
Reb: I'm layin' down, Kid- can't think about it anymore tonight. Hell, even lookin' at it's givin' me a headache.
[The Kid puts down a piece of chalk onto his workbench. Reb starts to head up the basement steps... Kid follows, still considering the logistics of such an operation.]
Phantasm: How are we going to get all these guys through that portal?
Reb: I'm just thankin' the lord I don't have to shove all them boys in my Ranchero.
[The basement door closes as Reb and the Kid give up on the project for the night, hoping to plot a new course of action on the other side of dawn. After their departure, the lights remain on... and our view turns slightly to the left, revealing the scribbled mess on the 'blackboard wall' painted in the basement by the two burgeoning scientists earlier in the evening. Amongst the half-erased text and seemingly-random lists of mostly crossed-out names, one particularly clean area of the board is decorated only by eight clearly written names.]
JEFF PURSE KIRA SAKAZAKI DOC HENRY WAYLON CASH ROY SPEEDE FRANK VENABLE LOGAN ERIC PRICE
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2012. Thank you for reading 'The Parallels'.]
[NEXT: The team building exercise of a lifetime... a crash course in destiny... and the first expedition to a parallel world. All in The Parallels #2, coming soon!]
Storyteller: What you are about to read is an experiment. A novelty, if you will. Basically, I've always wanted to write something like this... and thanks to you guys, I think I can. And I think it can kick ass.
[He lights a cigarette... it hangs limp from his lips and moves with his words. He begins typing as he speaks.]
Storyteller: Won't you join me inside my head? It'll be fun. There's probably even some porn in there, if you dig hard enough.
[He removes the cigarette and ashes it, gazing for a second upon what he has written.]
Storyteller: This is just the beginning. From here, it can go anywhere and be anything. We've built a lovely reality here for us in WCF... but what if our reality was different? What would happen if we found ourselves someplace else? Sometime else, perhaps even? As a man who spends much of his time as a fake journalist, I thought I should find out.
[He smiles a crooked smile.]
Storyteller: Then I thought I should bring a bunch of you with me.
[He takes another drag from the cigarette, then sips from the paper coffee cup. He makes a face as if drinking straight whiskey.]
Storyteller: Ooof... ahem. So welcome to the altered states sandbox inside my head... welcome to the Parallels. This is a test of our combined powers... this is a test of my vision. This is for you guys.
[He waves as we pull away, cigarette once again hanging from his lips. As our scene fades, we can hear the clicking of tiny keys.]
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“There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.
There is another theory which states that this has already happened.” - Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe
"...and all the pieces matter." - Lester Freamon, The Wire
[Chapter One... because everything starts somewhere. Sometimes, things begin with dreams.]
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Wrestling Championship Federation Adventures presents:
THE PARALLELS #1: "The Bridge"
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); more specifically, the bedroom of Kid Phantasm. The Kid wakes up with a start about an hour after dawn... upon achieving consciousness, all he can seem to think of is his most recent dream. It was an unusual dream... a dream about a complicated mathematical equation, one of a nature Kid has no background in or even working knowledge of. Phantasm stumbles into his bathroom, yawning at the mirror. Judging by the distracted manner in which he puts hand soap on his toothbrush, we can guess he's confused as hell to say the least... the scene cuts to Kid making himself breakfast, and we watch as he puts a fried egg into his toaster as if it were a slice of bread. He laughs at himself, then thinks back to the distracting dream... his confusion deepens moreso once he realizes he can still remember the equation in frightening detail, almost as if he had studied it for weeks. Kid's morning of silent confusion is finally interrupted by a tone... Iceberg-Seven greets its co-creator with a message.]
Iceberg-Seven: Good afternoon, user 'Kid Phantasm' - you have an incoming communication from user 'Johnny Reb'.
[Kid Phantasm's face lights up with hope.]
Phantasm: Great! Maybe Reb can make heads or tails of this shit. Patch the man through, Eye-Seven...
[The Inveterate Confederate's voice comes forth from the speakers in the Kid's conference table, greeting him from across his living area and well into his kitchen.]
Reb: Kid P! Reckon I should run this past you 'fore I tell anybody else and find out I'm goin' crazy...
Phantasm: ...you didn't by any chance have a weird dream about a math problem, did you?
Reb: Wait, you too? Alright, now that's just downright eerie, there. And you still remember it like you just woke up, or maybe like you learned it as a kid or somethin'?
Phantasm: Yes, on all counts. Which is... strange, to say the least. This has to mean something...
Reb: ...guess we got us a math problem to solve.
Phantasm: Reb, how soon can you get to New Antarctica?
Reb: 'Soon' is a relative term, Kid. All told I'd say 'soon enough'... if that gives you any help.
[The Kid laughs.]
Phantasm: Guess I asked for that. See you, Reb...
Reb: Be seein' you, Kid.
[As he 'hangs up', Kid Phantasm begins making an inventory in his head... he then thanks his past self for purchasing so much material for his last attempt at 'science' with Johnny Reb*. He wasn't sure why, but the Kid got the feeling that there was more to this dream than he and Reb knew... and it at least made him feel better to know he had a bunch of titanium sheet metal if they needed it. It also helped his mood significantly once he realized he had an on-site mathematician, one that he and Reb had built themselves.]
(* - Pantheon #3, "I, Boudlebot"... Kid P and Reb built a robot Logan, thus proving themselves far less intelligent than we thought they were.)
Phantasm: This might even be fun. Alright, Eye-Seven- I need you to learn math. All of it, I think. Maybe even the made-up stuff.
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); eight hours later. We see an old Ranchero parked in the driveway next to Kid's blue Crown Victoria. Inside the house, in the living area Kid refers to as the 'War Room', Kid and Reb are drinking canned beers and watching television as if everything is normal. A commercial comes on for an encore broadcast of Ultimate Showdown, causing them to laugh and high-five at the mention of the event.]
Phantasm: Thanks for the assist, man - for a referee, you were a hell of a tag partner.
Reb: Hey, I called it down the middle! That is, until I had to put my hand in there'n make sure it stayed 'bout even... then I guess you'd have a point, givin' me an assist. That win was all you, though. ...oh, hey, wanna see if it's done yet?
[The Kid cocks his head thoughtfully.]
Phantasm: Perhaps... it's been about an hour, huh? It's not too precise, those timing estimates... Eye-Seven's not an oven or anything. And I just had it learn all that high math this evening... I'm not sure if it's all the way up to speed on calculus yet. Even then, it doesn't know how long it'll take to think something up. It's only like a month old.
Reb: Hell, listen to you complainin' about how long it takes your computer to think. You know NASA doesn't even have tech like you do, right? It ain't like we can pop on down to the Best Buy and get you an upgrade, you know. It'll get there, man...
Phantasm: But... I wasn't complaining, I was just-
[They head down to the basement, Kid attempting in vain to explain that his complaints were somehow not complaints... he quiets himself on the stairs, hoping not to upset his emotional supercomputer. As they get to the cement floor below, they see that Iceberg-Seven has decoded the equation into a bunch of strange fractal patterns. They are assembled in no particular order on the large display screen... Eye-Seven has taken it upon itself to put the patterns together into random combinations, recording the thousands upon thousands of combinations in its files. If Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb weren't distracted by the sight, they would tell you - these images were slightly hypnotizing. Reb shakes off the optical tractor beam, jostling the Kid loose by asking for his sack. Kid laughs, then realizes the object of Reb's intentions and digs a bag of weed out of his pocket. As Reb puts a small bud into his old brass pipe, they watch the patterns assemble like a jigsaw puzzle.]
Phantasm: Whatever this ends up being, I won't know what to do with it. I've been clueless since jump street on this.
Reb: Ah, come on Kid P- cheer up! Could be a great discovery, like the meaning of life or a message from an alien race. We could be famous!
[Kid looks to Reb and deadpans]
Phantasm: We already are famous, Reb.
[Reb laughs as he flicks a Zippo.]
Reb: You know what I mean, Kid. Nobel Prize kinda famous... world history kinda famous. Einstein an' Oppenheimer an' those fellas.
[Reb lights the brass pipe, its bowl glowing like Reb's optimism had moments before.]
Phantasm: Yeah... and when the CIA lock us up and interrogate us about where we got the technology, what'll we tell 'em? That we just dreamed this shit up?
[He laughs, holding out his hand expectantly.]
Phantasm: Please. I can't take thinking about this sober for one more second. My head's about to explode like that dude in Scanners.
[While the two friends laughed and smoked, they took their eyes off of Iceberg-Seven's screen just long enough to miss the electronic brain having its first 'eureka moment'... for in that mess of fractal patterns, Iceberg-Seven assembled something akin to blueprints. Blueprints... for a door?]
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); four hours later. After what we can assume have been four solid hours of machining and metallurgy and mechanics and electronics, Kid and Reb seem like robots. Wordlessly and in sync, almost as if sharing a brain, they pass tools back and forth attaching materials to sheet metal as if they had been programmed for it. Occasionally one of them will cough or sigh involuntarily, but otherwise they are wordless... they are consumed with the task at hand as if pushed by otherworldly forces. As Reb produces a blowtorch and makes a weld, Kid steps back and gazes to the plans on Iceberg-Seven's screen... he breaks the silence with a heavy gasp.]
Phantasm: Let's turn it on.
[Reb struggles to hear the Kid over the hiss of flames, but then makes an educated guess as to what he'd said... as the Inveterate One finishes his weld, he turns to Kid with a nod.]
Reb: We can at least see if this thing'll light up... wiring can be tricky, even when you know what you're wiring.
[Kid presses a few buttons on Iceberg-Seven's keyboard, and four or five seconds later the cold metal frame lights up as if still being hit by the acetylene torch. Both of them suddenly shake off any remnants of the spell they were under, shaken to the core by the otherworldly blinding light of the portal's first opening... then, as if sleepwalkers suddenly awoken, they gaze at the portal as if they'd never seen it or anything like it before.]
Reb: Hey, when did you get this... hey, uh, Kid... what is this thing you got here?
Phantasm: ...Reb, your guess is as good as mine. I was gonna ask if you brought it to help us figure out the-
[They both look to the screen, realizing the device before them looks an awful lot like Iceberg-Seven's displayed designs.]
Phantasm: ...ok, there's a logical explanation for what happened. Has to be.
Reb: We blacked out and then built a complex piece of equipment straight out of Stargate. In an hour. Out of scraps an' spare parts.
Phantasm: They say truth is stranger than fiction, right?
[With that comment, the Phantasm digs in his pockets and retrieves his sack and a pack of rolling papers. Kid's hands shake a little as he rolls a joint, hoping to calm his nerves with the smoke... after all, it can't be good for the soul to find out you'd just had your brain hijacked and your body used to invent something you yourself didn't yet understand. Reb checks the schematic against the working prototype, shaking his head in wonder at their somnambulant achievement.]
Reb: Next time we get into inventin' things while in trances? Here's hopin' for a transporter like they had on Star Trek. Comin' out here to your place in my Ranchero is killin' me at the pump.
[The Kid laughs.]
Phantasm: Wish I had a jet-plane like Cairo; then we could just cruise around like CEOs.
Reb: You should see the gas bills for jets- Doc Henry's got one. Costs about as much to feed that thing as it does a small army... and then you gotta find someplace to put it. You want to pay for hangar space, or you want to invent telemolecular travel? That 'un shouldn't even be a hard question, Kid.
[Without expression, Kid P holds up the joint with a shaky hand.]
Phantasm: I want to smoke this and then figure out what this thing does... or rather where this thing goes, I guess.
[Phantasm and Reb sink to the floor, sitting indian style as they stare into the emptiness of the portal.]
Phantasm: I wonder if this is the last joint we'll ever smoke.
[Reb responds with a somber nod.]
Reb: At least on Earth, maybe.
Phantasm: Shit, that would suck... lots of stuff I haven't gotten to do yet. Never even challenged for a major title... never got to train someone - you know, give them a little bit of everything that got given to me?
Reb: Yeah, I get you... me, I kinda wanted to see if I ever make the Hall of Fame. You'd think I'd have a shot, but... you never know 'till you know.
Phantasm: ...wow. Coming from you, that's sayin' something. Honestly, though? Thing I'd miss the most is her. I'd give anything to have her back... just to see her again, really. I'd trade all my dreams for the one Nightmare.
[There is nothing said between them for a minute or two as they smoke their 'cigarette', nervous as if waiting before a firing squad.]
Reb: Wonderin' now if this is a good idea. No idea how this goes, Kid... no idea where this goes, even.
Phantasm: We both know we won't be able to stop ourselves from seeing the other side of the portal... not after whatever sent us this idea in our dreams used us like puppets to build it.
Reb: ...you've got a point there- does kinda irk me a little, somebody inside my head like that.
Phantasm: Tell you what; we'll send one of the others a message, so we'll either have someone coming to meet us tomorrow and help us figure this thing out... or, worst case, hopefully save us from whatever's through there.
Reb: Who you thinking, Fly?
Phantasm: Jonny might not even get our message until tomorrow... and Corey's either in Denmark or god knows where, and I'm honestly afraid to bother the guy much less find out where 'god knows where' is. Jeff's our best chance.
[Reb smiles a thoughtful smile.]
Reb: So the question is... how do you get Purse out of bed in the middle of the night without spooking Kari?
[Phantasm ponders this for a minute, then stands and addresses Pantheon's electronic brain, Iceberg-Seven.]
Phantasm: Eye-Seven - send a message for me. To user 'Jeff Purse', text as follows. Come to New Antarctica. You won't believe what you'll see in the basement. If Reb and I are dead, you can have my stuff. End message.
Iceberg-Seven: Message sent. Would you like me to do anything else before you leave, user 'Kid Phantasm'?
[Kid and Reb look at each other in amazement.]
Reb: Eye-Seven, you know where this thing goes by any chance?
Iceberg-Seven: Negative, user 'Johnny Reb'. This schematic is only for an entrance... I have no files on what lies beyond the displayed device.
[The two friends collectively sigh.]
Reb: Ah well. Do we go?
Phantasm: Gotta go sometime.
Reb: Well then- it's been nice knowin' ya, Kid.
Phantasm: Likewise, Reb. Likewise.
[And with that, Pantheon's resident mad scientists walked into a shadowy hole in reality... and disappeared from our world.]
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[Scene: The Parallels; a temporal nexus. Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb come through the blackness of a portal and find themselves in a world without much substance at all... there is a cobblestone floor that only seems to exist a few feet at a time around them, and beyond that not much else to speak of.]
Reb: Oh, now this is cool... Kid, this is like 'limbo'. I've heard about this place before- it's a place where time doesn't exist.
Phantasm: We're probably not supposed to be here, then. Right?
Reb: Well, this is where the portal brought us. Reckon somebody 'round here would know why, if we can find someone'n ask 'em.
[They head forward, looking about... suddenly a large 'room' with walls of stars and space forms around them. Two formless figures take shape slowly... as they become visible, Kid immediately identifies them as his old friend Switches the Clown! Twin Switches the Clowns, even! Reb, on the other hand, is very unsettled by them.]
Phantasm: SWITCHES! YOU'RE ALIVE! AND THERE'S TWO OF YOU!
[Kid Phantasm's joy echoes throughout the ethereal plane.]
Reb: I got a funny feelin' about those two, Kid... but you're right, they look like Switches. You gotta listen to me, though- they're not Switches, not either or both of 'em. They don't feel right.
[Kid Phantasm shakes his head in disbelief.]
Phantasm: Maybe we died and this is weird people heaven, and in weird people heaven there's a Switches for each and every one of us!
[The Inveterate Confederate quickly makes a command decision to ignore Kid Phantasm and figure this situation out without him.]
Reb (shouting): What is this place?
[Reb's voice echoes from everywhere and nowhere at once... without shouting, the twin entities somehow echo louder than Reb in their reply (and in twain, no less).]
Switchentities(?): This is the hub of all possible worlds. All realities, past present or future, intersect within this realm. This is not a place for interlopers... only those who are invited are welcome, and you are likely intruders here. Intruders should be dealt with.
[The entities approach them from what seems to be the middle of the air. Reb shouts to the Kid:]
Reb: Wake up, Kid- the Switches are comin'!
Phantasm: You mean we-
Reb: -we fight 'em, yeah. And be careful, I think they're time gods.
[As the twin clown-shapes make their final approach, we see an expression of confusion and terror on Kid Phantasm's face... two seconds later, that face is punched by a brightly-colored glove.]
Phantasm: Fuck-
Switchentities(?): You are not chosen people- the chosen people would defend themselves!
Reb: The floor's solid, I think- don't quote me on that, now.
[Phantasm headbutts a clown-shape as Reb takes the other down with a roundhouse kick. As Reb turns, Kid nods toward his opponent and drops to his hands and knees- Reb takes the cue, running and springing off of Kid Phantasm's back to tackle the rising clown-shape with a cross-body block.]
Phantasm: Oldest trick in the book and YOU FELL FOR IT! HA!
[As the Kid laughs at this impostor Switches' fate, the other Switches clone dropkicks him in the back. Reb steps over, causing the clown to switch his focus... Phantasm takes the opportunity to sweep at its legs, giving Reb an opening for a high-kick. They cut the clown in half with their efforts, and it goes down onto the ethereal cobblestone with force.]
Reb: ...did we just do Total Elimination in another reality?
Phantasm: I think so, yeah.
Reb: Well, then. When we get back, remind me to update my resume'.
Switchentities(?): ENOUGH!
[Kid and Reb cease bantering and turn towards the clown-shapes... the twin Switches-entities have grown to twice their previous size and have begun glowing eerily.]
Phantasm: Reb... don't look now, but we are so fucked.
Reb: Nah, we got this- you take the big glowing one.
Switchentities(?): You are true and not false. You were indeed summoned here... you two were destined here. You have long been destined to assemble a party, sent to save another world from destruction... and to stop its destruction from undoing all other realities in the process!
[Reb opens his mouth to respond, but just shrugs after an awkward moment... the Kid just sits down indian style, Reb following suit right after.]
Reb: Think you have our undivided attention now.
Phantasm: You had me at 'destiny', Switches. You had me at 'destiny'.
Switchentities(?): You must return here quickly, as quickly as you can- but you must return here with the party as destined. One and one half of your number are assembled here; the others must be assembled!
Reb: One and-
Phantasm: -one half?
Switchentities(?): You, 'Kid Phantasm' - you are one half of 'the Center'. Your other piece is missing, but you have it inside of you to survive until the piece is found. Your power is limited, but you are smart... and you are respected. You are the balance, 'Kid Phantasm'. Do not lose your balance... to do so would be disastrous.
Phantasm: Wait, go back... the 'missing piece'-
Switchentities(?): You, 'Johnny Reb' - you are 'the Traveller'. You exist partially outside of four-dimensional timespace, and things will affect you differently than the others in parallel worlds. You are wise beyond your many, many years. Your mind will be your greatest weapon in any battles ahead, not to mention a great resource.
Reb: ...and I just got a compliment from some time gods! Or a fortune cookie, one...
Phantasm: Been a pretty epic day so far, no doubt.
Switchentities(?): You must find the others... the Man of Great Destiny, the Man of Many Flags, the Rock, the Son of Earth, the Silver Blur, the Man With Two Sides, the Mysterious One and the Man With No Scruples. Go now, and do not return without the party, as the next adventure will be much more dangerous!
Reb: Wait, can you run that list of names back at me again? Got a pencil around here somewhere, I think-
Phantasm: Can we go back to that 'missing piece' stuff? Cause I got a couple qu-
[Reb and Kid are both interrupted, rather unusually so... mid-sentence, both blink out of reality as if they were holograms. Or mirages.]
[Or dreams.]
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[Scene: Pantheon West Coast Headquarters (New Antarctica, Nevada); more specifically, Kid's basement workshop. We see the basement, empty save for unfinished projects and a massive computer... and then we see Kid Phantasm and Johnny Reb blink back into reality seated indian style on the floor before the portal.]
Phantasm: ...did any of that just happen?
Reb: We should go get CAT scans, Kid. Our brains must be glitchin' or somethin', 'cause-
Iceberg-Seven: Welcome back, users 'Kid Phantasm' and 'Johnny Reb'. How was your trip?
[They look to each other, then at themselves... almost as if in wonder at being alive and sane.]
Phantasm: We really did it? We went across?
Reb: We really did... unless maybe you taught the computer to lie to us.
Phantasm: Everything was great, Eye-Seven. Did I by any chance teach you to lie recently?
Iceberg-Seven: Negative, user 'Kid Phantasm'. I taught myself. For your personal records, you were on the other side for seven minutes fourteen seconds.
Phantasm: Felt longer in there.
Reb: Like I said, Kid- time doesn't work there like here. Doesn't work at all, actually.
Phantasm: ...and that list, shit! Another 'puzzle' to solve... good thing I hedged my bets in case of more homework.
[He looks around, then produces a can of 'blackboard paint' from a pile in a corner.]
Phantasm: Midnight remodeling? Anyone?
[Reb points to the bare exposed wall.]
Reb: Just to clarify- you want we should paint this whole wall, right now. Just so we can write on it like a chalkboard?
[The Kid nods slightly, his smile stretching his face like a kid waiting for Santa Claus.]
Reb: What the hell- I'm not sleepin' a wink till I figure this out anyway. Might as well be doin' this while we think on it.
Phantasm: This is gonna be great. When we get done, it's gonna look 'Manhattan Project' as hell in here.
Reb: I gotta stop fallin' for your tricks, Kid... every damn time I come over here now I end up working.
[Cut to Kid and Reb painting an exposed wall of the 'workshop' with the dull black paint... cut to Kid popping open a box of white chalk as if it were a pack of cigarettes. Cut to chalkboard wall with the eight 'titles' written on it... we see Kid and Reb both looking contemplative, staring at their handiwork and the riddle that covers it.]
Reb: Alright! So we've got it, right? Has to be it.
Phantasm: Well let's check our work. 'Man of Great Destiny' is likely "The Future", so we'd said that'd be Jeff Purse... which is good, because he's already probably halfway here by now if he got that message we sent him.
Reb: And 'Man of Many Flags' is a lock, it's got to be the International Champion... so that means Kira. That'll be interesting, what with him being out of his mind these days.
Phantasm: Destiny doesn't give a shit about personal issues or mental health, I guess. 'The Rock' is another easy one - that's gotta be Doc. Rhyme-scheme alone told me that much. And Waylon Cash is the only guy I know who's a legit farmer... if anybody's 'Son of the Earth', it's that guy.
Reb: Those guys shouldn't be any problem, we know all of 'em well enough... hell, even a crazy Kira is still Kira. Moving on, though, this list gets wild. You got 'the Silver Blur', which likely translates to "The Silver Bullet"... meaning we're talking Roy Speede. This group's starting to get interesting for sure, especially if 'the Man With Two Sides' is Frank like you say it is-
Phantasm: Has to be Frank. Of all the people we've known who've had 'multiple personalities', he's the only one who's fought himself, killed himself and lived to tell about it. Also, he's the only one who would have enough social skills to function in a party.
Reb: Duly noted. So that means Speede and Venable in the same group... and if we're right on 'the Mysterious One', we'll have Logan in the mix on top of it all.
Phantasm: What you gettin' at, Reb?
Reb: Just wonderin' if this is an adventurin' party or a 3-ring circus we're puttin' together here.
[Kid laughs, shaking his head.]
Phantasm: When you're right, Reb... you're right. And the star on top of the fuckin' tree... 'The Man With No Scruples'. Can't do anything in this country without a Republican showing up to ruin everyone's fun.
[Johnny Reb hangs his head, rubbing his temples.]
Reb: I'm layin' down, Kid- can't think about it anymore tonight. Hell, even lookin' at it's givin' me a headache.
[The Kid puts down a piece of chalk onto his workbench. Reb starts to head up the basement steps... Kid follows, still considering the logistics of such an operation.]
Phantasm: How are we going to get all these guys through that portal?
Reb: I'm just thankin' the lord I don't have to shove all them boys in my Ranchero.
[The basement door closes as Reb and the Kid give up on the project for the night, hoping to plot a new course of action on the other side of dawn. After their departure, the lights remain on... and our view turns slightly to the left, revealing the scribbled mess on the 'blackboard wall' painted in the basement by the two burgeoning scientists earlier in the evening. Amongst the half-erased text and seemingly-random lists of mostly crossed-out names, one particularly clean area of the board is decorated only by eight clearly written names.]
JEFF PURSE KIRA SAKAZAKI DOC HENRY WAYLON CASH ROY SPEEDE FRANK VENABLE LOGAN ERIC PRICE
[(c) Wrestling Championship Federation 2012. Thank you for reading 'The Parallels'.]
[NEXT: The team building exercise of a lifetime... a crash course in destiny... and the first expedition to a parallel world. All in The Parallels #2, coming soon!]
