CHAPTER 29: THE LEPER COLONY
“So.” said Milo “Mabus recruited you into the Nine to fight these mutated Temporals.”
“That’s right.” said Virgil “But then, you knew that, didn’t you?”
“I knew a little.” said Milo. For all his mild nebbishness, there was a warning in Milo’s eyes.
They don’t know I’m one of the Nine. Let’s keep it that way.
Virgil’s seemed to respond; Or else what?
“So. What happened?” Kathy asked gently “Did you go to Stalingrad?”
“Yes.” said Virgil “More fools we.”
CHAPTER 28: A MEAL IN PARIS
“Ah, the great warrior rises.” said Mabus as Virgil and Jeda came downstairs.
The house which he had been brought to was a pleasant, unassuming semi-detached in a leafy Berlin suburb circa 1970. It was this innocuous dwelling that Mabus had selected as the base for a war spanning all of space and time.
“How are you feeling, my boy?” the old man asked kindly.
“Well.” said Virgil “Very well. I owe you my life.”
“I will not be slow to collect the debt, you can be sure of that.” said Mabus, and although he wore a half smile, it was clear he was quite serious.
The kitchen was bright and attractive, and around the varnished wooden table sat Aodh and a tall Ugandan who was introduced to Virgil as Baako.
Today in the Dáil, a debate took place between Mr Noel Coonan, TD (Fine Gael, Tipperary North) and the Unshaved Mouse (Independent, Internet) on the subject of the recently introduced water charges and the public unrest and mass protest that have followed. Footage of the debate can be seen at the end of this article. Unfortunately, as Mr Mouse is a small rodent approximately 3 inches in length and has tiny, tiny little lungs, the Dáil’s recording apparatus were not sensitive enough to record his contributions to the debate. A transcript of the debate now follows.
“Because the people of Ireland have now seen what they are up against. Particularly the socialist led protest that was up there…”
“CRUSH OBAMACARE! Sorry, sorry, when you use the word “socialist” it sets off my programming, I follow a lot of American politics, please continue…”
“The disgraceful scenes that went on, what they did to people in power…”
“Look, I’m not denying that guy throwing a brick at a police car wasn’t the single worst thing to ever happen in the history of the Republic but that was an isolated incident…”
“I come from the town of of Templemore where we train every Garda in the country.”
“You do? Awesome. Could you train them not to bang women’s heads against lamposts? And if you’re already doing that, maybe some kind of refresher course to brush up on the fundamentals…?”
“And the people round there and right across the country that I’ve met…”
“Possible, you do stretch across the country.”
“And they are now concerned by what they see as elements and socialists led by the so-called wealthy socialist party led by the Murph and company…”
“Ah the Murph. My favourite Dr Seuss character. Oh wait, you mean Paul Murphy, the Anti-Austerity Alliance TD. Well, he does come from a wealthy background. But are you saying we shouldn’t trust him because he’s rich? ‘Cos that sounds kinda socialist. DEATH PANELS! Godammit…”
“And aided and abetted by extremists in our colleagues in Sinn Féin.”
“Political parties with their origins in violent revolutionary movements?! HOW COULD THIS COME TO PASS!? HOW, GOD?!”
“And the people have given us the signal that that needs to be nipped in the bud.”
CHAPTER 27: THE LEPERS OF ST ROCHELLE
It was in in the autumn of 1627 that Virgil, Vicomte de Aurais, arrived in La Rochelle to partake in the great siege being conducted by His Majesty, Louis XIII and his noble eminence, the Cardinal-Duc Richelieu against the Huguenot insurgency.
And he was loving it.
Finally out from under the boot of his father, Virgil proceeded to enjoy himself as much as one could enjoy themselves during a savage military campaign. Which, as it turned out, was a great deal, and when not on duty Virgil was rarely found far from the taverns or gaming houses of the garrison. Virgil would never want for friends; he had wit and courage, which endeared him to men, beauty and charm, which endeared him to women, and a great deal of money, which endeared him to both.
So after a long, long wait the search is finally over and we have someone to do video reviews.
And that person was right here the whole time (and when he took off his glasses…I realised he was beautiful.)
Erik Copper is now going to be doing the audio and the visual for the videos as he slowly and inexorably replaces me as the one true Mouse.
I’ve already seen the early version of the Make Mine Music review and they are gonna be goooooood, people.
Speaking of reviews, the audio for Alice in Wonderland is now up so get listenin’ and, oh yeah, Mouse finally got off his tail and posted the latest chapter of the Hangman’s Daughter. (Sorry guys, week has been kinda crazy.)
Be good, I watch you always.
Mouse.
CHAPTER 26: THE COUNCIL OF THE TEMPORAL ADEPTS
Every muscle in Mariana’s body had turned to iron wire. The voice carried on regardless.
“You will bring her to the place where this message was left for you, exactly one year later. Do this, and I will take your actions as a gesture of loyalty and capitulation, and you will live. Do not, and I will take her. And Nine shall become None. I await your answer. My blessing on you all. Ave Mabus.”
The needle was plucked from the record with a squeal. There was silence.
Marie thought she could hear herself sweating.
“Hey Stan, you hear the Unshaved Mouse is going to start reviewing our movies?”
“What? Isn’t he that guy who reviewed all 53 canon Disney movies in only two years?
“That’s him.”
“Well damn, we’d better crank out some more movies before he burns right through them.”
“There, that oughta hold the bastard.” “Excelsior!”
Some complain that the costume is just like Batman’s. And it is. With the crucial difference that it is much, much cooler.
CHAPTER 25: THE NINE UNKNOWN MEN
It was, Virgil thought to himself, a thoroughly miserable room. It was small and cramped, the walls painted a shade of grey that was a close cousin to black, the thick curtains not so much screening sunlight as suffocating it in heavy dusty folds. His translucent eyes could pick out the motes of dust dancing through a single ray of sunlight and that was all. Then Mariana reached out and tugged the curtain to one side, and the room was swallowed in darkness.
Virgil, standing right beside the table, heard the gust of air and the tiny gasp that told him someone had shifted into being just under it, hidden by the green table cloth. He smiled to himself, and glanced briefly around to make sure no one else had noticed it. The senses of the people in this room were very acute to such things. That was why he had decided to stand near the table. He knew they would not want to talk with him, or even stand near him. In this way, he gave Marie the best chance she could have of not being discovered.
CHAPTER 24: THE LADY IN THE LOBBY
Marie opened her eyes and took a long look at herself in the mirror.
She took her comb and slowly pulled it through her hair. Slowly, because it had become so thick and curly that one wrong move could result in a painful tangle, or even worse, the comb drowning in her hair, never to be found again.
No greys, she noted. That was good.
She checked her face for wrinkles. Under the eyes, through the forehead. Nothing
She certainly didn’t look any older. She still couldn’t believe that she was thirteen. Back in St Anne she had known thirteen year old mothers. She still felt so young.
She opened the dresser and took out a small silver pendent that Mariana had given her the night before when they had celebrated her birthday. It was beautiful, tiny and intricately engraved with the words “Be forever free.” The face had a tiny engraved picture of a tower. She held it in her hand, while in the other she held the bone comb. The comb was yellowing and crudely carved, it’s design rapidly fading. Two very different gifts, from such different worlds.
“Marie?” Mariana’s voice came from downstairs.
“Coming.” she called, putting the pendant around her neck, and the comb in the pocket of her jeans.
CHAPTER 23: THE CHAMBER
Thomas had been five years old when he had seen the blackbird. It had been summer, and the black haired child had been watching it singing on a fence. He had stood there, mesmerised, listening to it chant to itself for no other reason than that it was glad to be alive. Then he had seen, out of the corner of his eye, his father pick up a stone to kill the bird, so that they could eat it for breakfast. The child, not knowing any better, had cried out and the bird had taken to the air on shining, ebony wings.
After his father had given him a good few blows for his impudence, he had lain on the grass, nursing his swollen jaw, and dreaming about what it would be like to be able to fly, to follow the bird and never come back.
unshavedmouse 