City of IF

[ashkent]

“How can we be ‘them’?” I asked, more than a little perplexed at the response.

“Well, ‘them’ are We, if you prefer,” Mr Bones said.

I was under the impression that the soul felt it was being helpful. All it was helping was the nurturing of a migraine.

“Shouldn’t that be us?” I asked with little hope of receiving a satisfactory answer.

“Why would it be us? We aren’t ‘them’. That would just be ludicrous.”

“I wholly agree,” I said. “So just tell me again what name they use,”

“They go by the name of We,” the lips said with a tut. “They are collectively known as We. If anyone asked what to call them, the answer would be We.”

“Ah,” I said. “So they call themselves We?”

“Yes.”

“Well why didn’t you say that in the first place. It would have made things so much easier.”

“I thought I did.”

So I now knew a little more about my would-be adversaries. They called themselves We. It seemed a strange name for a group seeming bent on bringing the world to its knees. It wasn’t exactly a name to be remembered by.

And why did they want me out of existence anyway? If I was unable to collect the souls of the departed the living would soon drown in a sea of lost, memory-absent phantoms. What could anyone possibly gain from burying the living in the shades of the dead?

It was certainly a growing puzzle. As I said when I began this document, curiosity is one of those undeniable humanistics that has integrated itself into my own being and when it comes knocking on my rather thick cranium I am compelled to follow its direction. With so many questions surrounding this mysterious group, I was never going to be able to walk away without complete satisfaction.

“I have another question,” I said. “What exactly were the terms of your contract with this group called We?”

“They paid me and I had Boris dig a hole,” the lips said, slipping slightly down the phantom heap as they spoke. “I thought you already knew this?”

“I am just trying to fill in some of the gaps. You said you never dealt directly with the We group, so who asked you to dig the grave?”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“How do you agree to do business with someone you don’t know?”

“When they offer you a lot of money to do it.”

“Ah,” I said. Somehow I wasn’t surprised at all. So much of the human world seems distorted and clouded by money. I myself have never seen the fascination. “So someone you do not know, working of behalf of the group calling themselves We, offered you a large sum of money to dig my grave?”

“That’s about it,” the lips said from the floor, where they had come to rest by a dismembered toe.

“What did he look like?”

“A woman.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “He looked like a woman?”

“No,” Mr Bones said. “It was a woman.”

That was an unexpected development. For some reason I had assumed We were all men. Thinking about it, I have no true reason for assuming such a thing, and indeed this new outcome did give me an insight into the turn of phrase ‘the female of the species is deadlier than the male’. Or is that stupider? I only ever overhear these sayings now and again on my travels, but I would consider anyone involved in a plot to kill me somewhat dim.

“So what did she look like?”

I watched the pile of soul shift uneasily, dislodging numerous chunks of ear and finger and an eyeball.

“She…erm…had long thin legs.”

“And?”

“Erm…a small waist and tanned stomach.”

“Go on.”

“Well she did have a rather large pair of melons.”

“Melons?” I asked.

“Yes, I think she had a few other pieces of fruit but I could only see the melons on the top of the bag she had.”

“Oh, right.”

“She had a good pair of tits on her too,” the shade said.

It seemed that the Seven Deadly Sins were still very much alive and well in the world, and I should say that Lust has helped a large number of human souls into my path. It is always something of an embarrassment when they see the reaction of their fellow sinner in the moments following their demise. Corpses do not seem to be appealing lovers.

“What about her face?” I asked

“I didn’t get that far,” the shade said. “Well, only for a second but I was distracted by her skirt.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t seem to be wearing one. Not what you could really call a skirt. You know what I mean, don’t you? It’s easy to get distracted by things like that.”

“I wouldn’t know.” I said, in many ways pleased to be able to answer as such.

“Ah, yes. I guess not. Maybe that was why they sent her.”

“To distract you?”

“Yes.”

“If this is true, then it seems to have worked flawlessly.” I commented. “Is there anything else of use you can tell me?”

“Not unless you want to know about her arse.”

“Let me sort out your visa,” I said quickly. “You will need to go through Ghost Reconstruction first though. They’ll try and fix you up. I’ll make a note for you to have a course in Spectral Needs too.”

“Spectral Needs?”

“It’s our Rehab group. They’ll have you up and floating around in no time.”

I completed the relevant forms, documented my recommendations to Dr Frankie Stone in Ghost Recon, and dropped the visa into Mr Bones’ waiting hand. I watched the heap of misty body parts dissolve into the hereafter then pondered my next move.

I have always conducted my life by the rule of The List. I collect the souls that appear there every hundredth of a millisecond and move them on to their eternity. Now, not for the first time, I had another list to work from, one of questions and puzzles that needed answers.

Who was the mysterious green-clad figure who had prematurely ended the life of Mr Bones? And the mystery woman who had distracted him with her many attributes? Why was I the ultimate target, and what good would it do anyone? Most importantly, who were We and where could I find them?

I was at a dead end. Mr Bones was the end of the line as far as enquiries could go. That did not mean I was about to give up. It just meant I needed to make another stop.

There is always one person I can drop in on for a little background on all matters of a devious and downright disturbing nature.

Jimmy.

Unfortunately, you are going to have to wait to find out who Jimmy is, but what i want to know is where is he? Where will Grim find him? All i will say is that it can be anywhere from a bottomless pit in the Rocky Mountains, to a Pirahna infested lake, to sitting on the wing of an aeroplane n mid-flight...basically it could be absolutely anywhere. the choice is yours.

[Cyberworm]

Heya Ash. Good chappy, flawless grammar man. :D

As for Jimmy, he could be on the middle of a highway, between the tracks, looking like the guy from the Sprite commercial. (Though that guy is on a middle of a bridge, on the middle of a track with nothing but a Sprite vending machine lol). Basically, he is on a bridge with cars constantly passing by.

[Crunchyfrog]

Jimmy only ever appears in photographs, posters, and other pictures as and when he feels like it. Sometimes he is the subject of the picture, other times he is someone in the background.

The picture in question this time is in one of those periodicals you find on a coffee table at an expensive hairdressers, where Jimmy is currently posing in the centre pages wearing not many clothes, and the latest gel encrusted, highlighted, hair sculpture on his head.

*Just wants to see Grim reading a hairdressers magazine and talking to one of the pics in it*

:)

[Mephistopheles]

sitting on the side of a volcano that is erupting, staring into the basin as bits of hot lava shoot through his personage.

[scissorkitty]

I support the hairdressing magazine idea! That's awesome. Some of the hairstyles in there... ludicrous! I suggest his photo is themed "Dereleeeekt".. .as in Zoolander homeless-style.

[OldJoe]

Ah reckon this Jimmy fellah is only ter be found on a full moon. What with being a wereperson an' all.

Mighty nice writin' Mr. Kent. Ahm addin' this un ter mah list.

[ashkent]

Hmm, interesting ideas so far...I'll keep it open for ideas a couple more days then go to the poll.

[Chinaren]

He's in jail, about to be 'got friendly with' by several large inmates. :lol:

[scissorkitty]

I changed my mind. I think Jimmy can be found as the "hand model" showcasing a cheesy Fauxlex on the Home Shopping Network infomercial, via a wall of cheapo tvs at Sal's Pawn Shoppe and Elektronix Emporium. (with the "and Elektronix Emporium" part written on a piece of cardboard and duct-taped to the side of the existing sign.)

[Kalanna Rai]

Jimmy is a floating eyeball who frequents women's locker rooms.

[ashkent]

Ok, the poll is up. I have made some very slight adjustments to a couple of the suggestions as the nature of what Jimmy is cannot be changed. That said there are a couple in particular that would fit his being very well indeed...just have to wait and see if you pick one of them now. :)

[Bookwizard]

Sorry I missed the fist stage in this chapter, I have been a bit busy lately, and will for the next few days as well, but I enjoyed it. So far this is my favorite SG on Jester Park (don't take into consideration it is also the first :laf:). Good edition to the story, am going to have to say jail, but am still a bit undecided, but thats my best answer, I just hope that it doesn't end up being in a women's locker room, somehow I just don't think that that would go well with the story.

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Damn, missed the poll. Oh well.

Great chapter Ash. I see Messy has already got to your head. :lol:

*Holds breath* :shock:

[ashkent]

Well...time to get to work on the next chapter.

*Cracks knuckles and watches fingers drop to the floor*

Just as well I can type with my feet.

And just as an aside, reading back through previous chapters I just realised I have already revealed the identity of Jimmy. Now...how the hell to get him into a hair magazine...hmm...oddly enough I do have an idea.

[Bookwizard]

reveled Jimmy.... when???

[scissorkitty]

oo.. i love the suspense!

You already introduced Jimmy? I obviously need to re-read everything now. Way to get those extra views! very sneaky! heh.

[Flaw]

I very much like the green frog's idea. But perhaps Kimmy should be a little more malformed then usual and always seems to pop up while Grim does his job, either as an interesting bystander somewhere or something.