City of IF

[Chinaren]

Any more for this? I'll poll it soon. If I remember.

[Chinaren]

Righty Ho. I think that's long enough for the suggestion phase. Poll is up!

Engorge the cream bun of voting.

[Chinaren]

Sheesh, 5 months and it's still a tie!

Ah well. ~Picks winner randomly~

Mmm. Okay.

[Chinaren]

Chapter 11. The Last Time?


“Oh.”

“Oh? What do you mean… Oh?” Chinaren peered over the Frogs’ arms and read the final part of the letter.

“Oh,” he said.

“If Argoclone escapes, the world will fall, as he will meet himself and turn evil, destroying all of humanity,” He read the line out again, just to be sure he hadn’t mistaken it the first time. It remained stubbornly the same.

“Just what I need in my first term,” CF said.

“You going to run again then?”

“Probably, sometime in the future, after a rest,” she replied. “But that’s for another time. What are we going to do about this?”

“I don’t believe it,” Chinaren said, shaking his head.

“You wrote it!” Frog said, shaking the letter.

“Exactly, would you trust something I said?”

“Good point.” CF lowered the paper. “So… what?”

“Let’s forget about the clone and just get me back to my time. From there I’ll think of a cunning plan to save the world. Again.”

“Again? When did you save the world before?”

“Can’t tell you,” Chinaren said, tapping the side of his nose and winking. “Or I’d have to kill you.”

Crunchy rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to know,” she said. “Come on we should…”

“…move these things out. Hello? Chinaren? What are you doing here?”

“Whu…?”

“I didn’t see you come in. You using some kind of secret tunnel again?” the man said. “I thought Crunchy sealed all of those up.”

“What the hell is going on here?” Chinaren clapped his hands to his head in a dramatic gesture.

“I’m just moving out. As I’m not running again, I thought I’d clear some junk.” The man, who had an enormous moustache, picked up a box and dumped it down on the mayoral desk.

Chinaren looked around. The office was pretty much the same as it was a moment ago, though when he looked closer, it did appear to be a little more worn.

“Okay,” he said, holding up a finger. “Firstly, who the hell are you? Secondly, where’s CrunchyFrog, and thirdly, where am I?”

The stranger looked at him. “Have you been at the Old Stoat again?”

“Just humor me.”

The man sighed and let go of the box. “I’m Waxoflot, mayor,” he bowed slightly. “CF is out on the campaign trail last I looked, and you are here, standing in front of me and being more confusing than usual.”

“She is running again. How about that?” China muttered, and then turned to face the outgoing incumbent. “Waxy eh? You’d be new then?”

“About seven or eight months I guess. Time flies.”

“You’ve no idea,” Chinaren muttered. He looked around. “Okay. When did you last see me?”

“Actually, you’ve not been around much lately. Chinaren Inc. establishments have been standing empty for the most part. Chinren Halls’ garden’s growing weeds.”

“That can’t be good.”

The mayor shrugged. “Meh.”

“How about Arganout?”

“Him? Hasn’t been around since Crunchy’s reign as mayor.”

“That can’t be good,” Ren repeated.

“Never really knew him.”

“Okay then. Well. How’s time been? In general I mean?”

“Time?”

“You know, goes forward, tick tock and all that.”

“Well…” the mayor twiddled with his moustache as he frowned, thinking. “There were those timequakes six or so months ago, but Key made some kind of offering to the Gods and they settled down. We did lose a few hours I think. It’s a bit hard to tell really.”

“Mmm.” Chinaren scratched his head. If Argonaut had met Argoclone the last time, or the time he was here before at least, when CF was new as mayor, then he was too late. But why hadn’t the world ended as he’d warned in his letter?

“Knew I couldn’t trust myself,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Chinaren sighed and looked about. “So… Do you have any old sporting papers lying around?”

“No. Now, are you going to help carry stuff, or just stand here and annoy me?”

“Neither, I need to get to Chinaren Hall. Later SnacksAlot.”

“That’s… Oh, never mind.”

Chinaren waddled out of the mayoral mansion, which looked a little more chipped and aged than he remembered it. He shook his head. Whatever had happened to IF in the future, he was out of place, out of time. Still, with the Argoclone gone, he was risking the timeline more by staying here.

With a last look around, he slinked out of the door, heading off to Chinaren Hall and his lab.

~

Not very far away, two figures were hunched over a large table, upon which were spread thousands of drawings. The drawings were detailed, beautifully colored, and extremely disturbing to look at.

“Nearly done,” one of the artists said, putting a quill to one side and stretching.

“Yes, only a few hundred more of these and we’ll be able to start the ritual. And to think, if I hadn’t bumped into you all those months ago we’d never have thought of this magic.”

“Indeed, we’ll have to thank Chinaren, before we kill him and everyone else.”

“Thank him. Oh yes, I’ll thank him alright,” one of them said, eying a white thong hanging on the stone wall nearby. “I’ll give him a death he’ll never forget! Mwahahahahaha!”

“Indeed! Mwhaahaha!” The other joined in the merriment.

The laughter of the two insane artists echoed through the night, out of the small tent in the shanty town outside the great registration wall, making a nearby lady of the night pause for a moment.

“What was that?” she asked.

“Who cares? Let’s get back to the business at hand,” her customer said.

“Sure thing ducks. Now, where were we?”

The customer, who was clad in long robes of true purple, nodded and continued the negotiation...

“Twenty Fables, as long as you throw in a bit of ‘back door’ action…”



The End?

[NeverNeverGirl]

YAY Chinaren!
does this explain the absence of the Ren-esque touch in If of late?

And the True Purple robes? you have me wondering...

layers upon layers ..

WOOT