To Defy Doom

To Defy Doom: Act 1: The Dominoes are Stacked

By Peragrine Wanderthistle. August 2016. (I'll get an exact date when it says so on the Boards.)

Prologue:

| | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Booted feet marching awake Peragrine enough to open his eyes. He hears the metal doors opening and closing thunderously, and quite soon they pass by Peragrine's alcove. He sees all of the armored guards roughly escorting a nervous prisoner in fine apparel, who was apparently trying to negotiate a deal, as they half carried- half dragged him along. He had peppery gray hair, and was pathetically thin compared to the minifigures around him. He seemed too refined for his surroundings. Before Perry could find anything else interesting about him, he was out of sight, past the archway. He drifted back to sleep to the fading sounds of the heavy metal doors clanging open and shut...

| | | | | | | | | | | | | |

Chapter One: Transition.

***Moments ago***

In a cell not too distant from Peragrine's cell, in terms of feet, though in all other respects, it could just as well been in space for all the steel and stone set between them, sat a older gentleman.

This older gentleman had the luxury of not being bound to a table. Alas, he was not aware of his blessings, as compared to others. He was, in fact, cursing his bad luck as he sat on a cot, with a few blankets stacked upon it.

He was fully dressed in filthy finery fit for a fancy dinner. His hair, though dirty, still shined in places where silver-gray strands stuck out. His facial hair, also black and white, was slightly untrimmed, and had some red furrows on the skin underneath where he had apparently itched and scratched it... This man was un-used to his beard. His hands, thin and frail, were gripping the side of the cot.

"What I would not give for a simple slab of butter and bread!" he muttered to himself. "How hard is it to avoid the generic porridge they serve here? I will simply shrivel away if they do not come by with something other than that watery goop!" The old man lifted his knobby knees to his pointed chin, and curled up, as he stared accusingly at the wooden bowl and cup on the floor, which contained a half-eaten portion of poor porridge, and plain, clear water.

"And they still haven't gotten me a decent drink!" He thought irritably. "Honestly, you'd think by now, they'd know I won't tolerate this sort of treatment!"

As he began to formulate a flowery speech to impress the guards when they came back, to get himself a more respectable drink, some distant thumping of heavy boots interrupted his thoughts.

He had been in these dungeons long enough to know the noises certain groups made. This was a large group, so they were probably escorting someone. He hoped it wasn't an escort for him...

Had they really broken the others?

Would they really try to torture HIM??

What would he do???

Would it hurt????

The door to this segment of the hallway opened to reveal a dozen or so armored guards as they filed in, and stopped outside his cell. They looked at him with a strong purpose...

The last one of them, dressed no different than the rest, came through the doorway, into his section of the main hall, and began unlocking the cell door with a bundle of keys. He spoke without making eye contact with the prisoner Gentleman.

"Sir Jean-Claude Silverstine. You are summoned to meet the Grand 1st Warden Maleisus. "

Chapter 2: The Big Deal

Jean-Claude was roughly shoved to his knees by his escort. He was on the verge of panic. What was to happen next, he did not want to know. So he stayed where he was. Frozen, staring at the floor. The cold, stone-gray floor. But his other senses told him more than he wanted to know. There was the smell of sweat, and of something burnt. The air tasted thick and stuffy. He could hear soft footsteps coming closer, and a low humming. Then he saw a shadow come over him. Lastly, a voice spoke.

"Hoist him up on the table." The voice said in a sibilant accent that the well-read Jean-Claude recognized as Eastern.

"No! Please! Please, revered Warden!" pleaded Jean-Claude, as he was forced to move. He looked up, and indirectly into the face of the Warden.

The Warden was indeed Oriental. He had those tilted 'cats eyes'. They were a brown so dark that, with a bit of runaway imagination, Jean thought those eyes were all black. His black Mustache drooped just below his chin, while his hair was long for a man's and went just shy of his shoulders. He seemed to be hiding a smirk.

"I'll-- I'll do anything!" the prisoner stammered, as the guards began strapping him onto the tilted table.

The Warden raised a dubious eyebrow.

The Guards pinned Jean's arms to his chest, secured the strap. He felt he couldn't breath.

"Anything at all!" he yelled, as he helplessly flailed his unsecured waist and legs. The guards began silently wrestling the second of the three straps around his middle.

The Warden's smirk fully revealed itself, but he simply stared at Jean-Claude.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!?!?" wailed Jean, with what he was sure his last breath, as a guard began tightening the first strap around his chest.

The Warden blinked lazily. Like a cat. He had read this coward already. He just had to wait.

"I'LL TELL YOU AN-"

"Aw Shut'tap!" barked the guard, yanking a few extra inches more on the chest strap, in hopes of making Jean do just that.

Suddenly, the guard was propelled out of Jean's sight by Violet arcs of lighting shot out of the Warden's gloves, launching the vociferous guard against the back wall with a terrible crash of armor.

As The Interrogator moved forward swiftly, the other guards filed out silently and efficiently, leaving their comrade smoking and unconscious against the far wall.

Jean Claude eyed the bulky gloves, their high whine from being used, dying down to it's usual hum. A decidedly deceptive white noise, thought Jean. But he did not have any more time to observe that, for in the next moment, his entire vision was encompassed by the face of his interrogator!

Jean Claude's terror knew no limits as the Interrogator loomed over him.

"Please, my Leige! I'll- I'll tell you anything!!! ANYTHING AT ALL!!!

"I am NOT your liege." Barked the Warden.

"Pardon! A thousand apologies, Master Warden! I only assu-"

"We are all merely humble servants of King thedude. As am I. As are you. As is everyone on Morcia. And beyond." Instructed the Warden. 

 "Well, what shall I call you then, if not Leige, or Master?" Jean-Claude asked tremulously.

"You," the Warden regarded Jean, "You may call me by my name. Maleisus."

 "Very well, Maleisus. I am glad we can be... Civil." Jean said, with more hope than certainty.

"Indeed. Your relations were much more... difficult."

"Stubborn?"

"To the last."

"Even young Peter?"

"Even the boy."

"Ah. That's a shame. He was a good lad."

"Oh, he didn't smash." clarified the Warden. "He simply lost his mind. He's somewhere around here, constantly muttering 'Nothing, nothing, nothing,' "  he recalled, tossing his hands in the air, repeatedly, mimicking.

 Not knowing how to respond to such callousness, Jean-Claude simply blinked, shuffled his unsecured right foot, and replied, "Ah."

"But as for you," remarked the Warden, turning back to Jean. "You do not need to share their fate."

"Indeed not! I am very interested in keeping my head, in every sense of the phrase!"

" Very good." Purred Maleisus. "Now, divulge!"

"Well, what do you want to know first?" asked Jean-Claude, beginning to feel more in control. Bargaining was something he was familiar with.

"Oh, anything.  A family genealogy, a history, a location of some rebel base... It doesn't matter much. Just something to show you're genuine." Suggested Maleisus. He too, was finding this refreshing, compared to his usual trading of barbed remarks and pulling of teeth.

 Jean-Claude thought fast.  What would they find interesting in the Mountains?

"The Secret tunnels!  There are secret tunnels all throughout the mountains! Some say they were dug by dwarves, but we-"

"Oh, we know about the tunnels."

"Yes, yes, I know you do. Your Barney-Bots followed me in there, but I bet you don't have a MAP!"

"We do.  Our Bots mapped it all. With Sonar. Even the secret rooms.  The completed diagram makes for a pleasing 2D and 3D design. I intend to have it embroidered into a tapestry."

"Oh."  Jean-Claude didn't know what Sonar was, but the way Maleisus said it, he obviously needed a new  bargaining chip.

"The Silverstine Vault! That is where all our greatest secrets are!  I can tell you the key, and - "

"There was a key? How amusing. We already cracked it open. With Lasers."

Jean-Claude didn't know what Lasers were either, but he did not doubt the power of thedude, or his minions.

"Did us little good, though," continued Maleisus, "All of the information was written in a most bizarre dialect.  Our best scholars, computers, and translation matrixes couldn't make heads or tails of it. It defied all of thedude's vast resources." He stroked his drooping moustache, remembering the frustratingly futile nights spent trying to decipher the parchments.

"What?  That- That's PREPOSTEROUS! Why, I wrote all that myself! In the venerable Olde Speech!!!" barked an outraged Jean-Claude. "How dare someone doodle gibberish all over my life's work?! Why I-"

Maleisus snapped his head around, "Old 'Peach'? What is this you speak of?"

"'Olde Speech' my friend! Tis a beauteous and nigh forgotten language, known only to a few echelons of Men..."

"What in the name of..." Maleisus was speechless. His prisoner was now monolouging in some alien dialect.

"...For VERILY, the boon of Olde Speech is surely not a natural bestowment unto Men. We must peradventure to learn it!  But alas, and forsooth! These learn'ed men hath not retained their honor; Yea, they hath not taught the next generation of this beauteous Speech and it's many fantastical ways.  Myself included.  Lo! It doth bringeth us to this sad state of affairs, wherein ye stareth at me, as unto a loon. . . "

Maleisus was indeed staring, with all abandonment of civility.

"...Tis Unbecoming," Finished Jean-Claude.

Maleisus now glared perceptively at Jean, who was smiling, having shown off his 'learn'edness'.

". . . You said you wrote all of the Vaults contents in this... 'Olde Speech'?" asked the Warden, a plan formulating.

"Of course! I was the bookkeeper!"

"Do you believe yourself capable of translating it into modern English?"

"Well... Yes, I suppose..." Jean said, feeling yet again unsure...

"Or I could just leave you here to rot for a few y-"

"OF COURSE I CAN! I'D LOVE TO TRANSLATE ALL OF MY FAMILY SECRETS FROM OLDE SPEECH INTO ENGLISH FOR YOU! JUST GET ME OUT OF THIS FORSAKEN PLACE!!!!!!!"

Maleisus smiled maliciously.   The Knights of the Olde Speech would no longer have any privacy. His Lord thedude would now have a personal translator... And a fluent and servile one at that!

Chapter 3: The Facade of Freedom

*Many Years Later*

Jean-Claude awoke to the sounds of birdsong.  Rising up out of his 4 post bed, he set his feet into soft fuzzy sheepskin slippers.  Standing up, he nipped into his houserobe, for it was rather chilly this morning. Autumn would be short at Mount Thunderclap this year.  Which was rather ridiculous, since Mount Thunderclap was a active Volcano....  Nevertheless, it was cold, and Jean wrapped the robe tightly around his pajamas. Then he turned to his nightstand, and addressed the two songbirds in their birdcage that sat upon it.  

"Good Morning my friends! Homer, Lucy. Rather brisk, isn't it?" 

The birds twittered pleasantly in reply.

"Let me see to your breakfast!"

Jean opened the drawer to the stand. Inside there was a bin of birdseed and a scoop, among other things.  Jean used the scoop to pick up some seed, and filled Homer and Lucy's tin bowl full of seed.  The happy bird couple grew silent as they gathered around their repast.  

"Now to see about my own breakfast!" he said, stepping off towards the kitchenette of his small apartment, to make some tea.  However, he was detoured by the sound of the doorbell.

The door began to open as a man dressed in aide's uniform backed in, pulling a large and unwieldy service cart through with him.  Jean went to help, and held it open. 

"Good morning, Mr. Silverstine. I have your breakfast here." The man intoned, as he wheeled the cart in. He had unremarkable brown-blonde hair, and marsh green eyes.  "

"Carson! It's food, er, good to see you!" Jean said jovially.

"You see me every day, sir." said Carson. 

"And I'd miss you if I didn't!" declared Jean. 

"That's rather sad, sir." Muttered Carson, as he moved the cart into the kitchenette, alongside the dinner table. 

"Do you have any paperwork for me today, Carson?" asked Jean-Claude, somehow hovering over both Carson and the food cart simultaneously.

"No, not today, "replied Carson, beginning to transfer silver platters to the table. "Did you finish that let- er, that Paperwork from yesterday?"

"Yes... But it was rather strange. There was no signature." Jean recalled.  "There's always a signature. Olde Speech writers always leave a signature. It's part of the whole... nuance."

"Sounds ridiculous."

"actually, I think it has to do with honor, or something like that. You know, owning up to your words. 'Your word is your bond!' and all that nonsense." Said Jean, imitating a pompous knight.

"Well, maybe he got lazy." Suggested Carson, paying attention to the breakfast setup. 

"Lazy people text." 

"Then maybe he was rushed."

"He?" asked Jean-Claude, catching on to new information.

"Um, Well, I assume it's a he," stammered Carson, unable to hide his rapid mental backpedaling. 

"Carson, why did you give me a copy, instead of the original letter? Why can't I know whom it's from? What's so impo-

Carson's face contorted into a thousand angry lines, as he heavily set a tray back down on the Cart. Without looking at Jean, he growled:

"Mr. Silverstine.  There are some things that are best left unknown, OK? You have that luxury. along with aaaaalll these other luxuries you've accumulated over the years.  Keep it. Keep them."

There was a heavy silence between the two.

Then, as there were no further questions coming from Jean, Carson practically tossed the final platter onto the table. 

" I've got other meals to deliver. Enjoy," he muttered, as he carted his way out.

Jean-Claude didn't feel like breakfast anymore.

(=|=)

Interlude I

Peragrine awoke to the sound of the iron doors opening and closing, becoming louder as whomever it was came closer and closer to his section of the corridor.   Curious, he listened for footsteps, but couldn't hear any...

"So it's not soldiers" he reasoned quietly, "They make an awful racket with their steel boots." He was so worn that he couldn't even think aloud, as he always did.

As the noise increased, so did his curiosity, to the point where he decided it would be worth the effort to look around.

So he opened his eyes. 

His vision was bleary.  There were strands hanging from the ceiling, and the light was unbearable, making him tear up something awful. 

"I just want to SEE!" he thought, with as much force as he could muster.

In reaction to this strong thought, there was a tugging sensation inside of him, and he felt very empty. However, his vision cleared significantly, and he was able to recognize the strands in front of him as ... Hair.

Apparently, Peragrine had grown bangs. With a detached sense, he wondered HOW LONG had he been here.... To grow BANGS? 

This was very interesting, but his attention was diverted by a minifigure entering his alcove.  

It was Menaya Kull, and she clutched a clear white gem in her hand, brilliant, and nicely cut.

"What are you doing?" asked Perargine, but it remained only a thought.

She wasted no time in passing right by the prisoner, going behind him. He heard her tinkering with something behind him, and then it stopped, and he heard her say something like "Very good."  Then she walked back into his field of view. Her left hand was in her pocket, which had a green luminescence leaking out of the fabric. She exited the cell, and left back up the corridor the way she had come.  Once again, the iron doors signaled their opening and shutting, opening and shutting, opening and shutting....

She had never once looked at him.

Suddenly, there was a twinge in Peragrine's back, and a unstoppable tidal wave of fatigue assaulted him.  He was washed back to the land of dreams.

Chapter 4: Ignorance is Bliss

After the debacle with Carson that morning, Jean-Claude didn't feel up to doing anything. So he didn't.  He just sat in his armchair, bundled tight in his robe and a throw against the cool fall air.

But that only made him feel worse, because sitting around doing nothing made him think.  And all he could think about was what Carson had said, which Jean decided could be summarized as, "Ignorance is Bliss." 

Jean-Claude didn't like his ignorance. It sure didn't feel like bliss! He slouched in the armchair and shuddered as his ankles were exposed to the chilly morning air.

"And yet, he calls ignorance a luxury!" he thought with a huff, adjusting the throw over his legs. 

Jean looked around all his 'other luxuries' Carson had mentioned.  He certainly had acquired a few over the years. As perhaps the only Olde Speech translator in the service of thedude he considered himself due a new luxury or distraction every once in a while. A decent 4 post bed with a cushy mattress had been the first of many.  Lucy and Homer the birds were another, in place of some hideous invention called a digital alarm clock. . ..

Of course, there were other, more useful 'luxuries' too. Ones that helped in his translation work, to better serve his benefactors. Like books, encyclopedias, and other such reference tools.  Eventually, he had needed a better place to store them, like a bookshelf or two, so they had gotten a carpenter to come up and build that, along with anything else Jean wanted in the bargain.  That was how he had acquired a lot of the wood furniture, like the dinner table, or his beautiful workdesk, on which he had carved a large quantity of the designs himself. Though the hired carpenter had done the messy finishing details... 

Why, the apartment itself was a luxury! Jean remembered the dealings he and Maleisus had gone back and forth on to land this agreement. Looking around his apartment, this space he had made his very own... he liked it very much

"But it's still a prison." Muttered a dark voice in his mind, as his eyes alit on the unused coat-rack next to the door he could never open. 

"True, but it's pointless to consider the alternatives," reasoned Jean-Claude to himself.

" Disassembly, like your brother? Or worse, insanity like your nephew?" 

The unbidden memory of Peter's tormented screams echoed in his mind.

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!!! NOTHING! NO-THING!"

Jean-Claude shivered uncontrollably.  Suddenly, he leaped out of his seat, eyes wide. 

"I know what this place needs!"  he exclaimed.

"CARPET!"

Bounding over to his workstation, he began scanning the bookshelves that lined all of the 3 walls of the room, save for where a window, his workdesk, or the entrance were.  Jean-Claude was searching for a particular book. A book no self-respecting gentlefig's library would ever be without. No matter how large or small.  Jean-Claude was looking for... 

 The Yellow Pages.

"Aha! Here it is!" he crowed, plucking it from it's place on a lower shelf. Wiping the miniscule amounts of dust that had accumulated since he had  last cleaned, he set the book down on his easeled Writing Desk, and began flipping through the pages. 

"Carpeters.. Carpet... Where would that be?"

It took a few minutes, but he eventually found 'Flooring' under 'Home Improvement'.  Scanning the list, his attention was caught by a particular 'J.C. Merchants.'

"Oh! How quaint! It's my initials! J.C.!" he exclaimed, delighted. "If only they were Suppliers, then it would be my full initials." he mused, tickled pink.

It didn't take much else to convince the minifigure that these were the folks he was looking for.

There was just one last itty-bitty problem.

He needed a phone.

(\\\\}======>

Interlude II

Peragrine awoke to nothing in particular, this time. That was weird.

He opened his eyes and looked around.  He saw the grey stone. Felt the cold chill. Heard the relative silence. "Not even the classic dungeon  drip-drip!" he thought sullenly. Just the stone, and the cold, and the silence. Stone-Cold-Silence, yo" he giggled.

"Hey, that's a saying, isn't it? That's a saying, from... Somewhere. Out there. In existence. . .  Not here. . . "

"Nothing ever happens here..."

"You know, this is like that time on Sav when MisDirection banished me to that pit."

"I wonder... Did I ever figure out who put her up to that? "

"Eh, it must not of been just one fig, or even just herself... It must have been a collection of minifigures that had her do it. She doesn't do anything without some sort of gain...

Oh, MissDirection. She misdirected me... Shame on her for that double-cross.

I wonder, how did I ever escape that pit?

Well, I wasn't pinned to a table, for one...

My nose itches.

...What's a nose?

...Who knows.

Having no other immediate thoughts, Peragrine once again resigned himself to the fatigue. 

      ||||||||||||||||||     

Chapter 5: Telecommunications

"You want a WHAT?" exclaimed Carson as he accepted Jean-Claude's paperwork, which he had forgotten that morning in his abrupt exit.  He slipped it into a slot on the service cart.  

"A phone! To call some folks to install carpet in here, before winter sets in and it gets terribly drafty." Bemoaned Jean, passing the back of his hand along his forehead.  He glanced at Carson. 

He was getting a sardonic look from the man.

Carson sighed. "Well, what if we called them for you, like we did with the carpenter guy for your bookshelves?"

Jean thought about it for a moment.  "I suppose that would work. But I'd very much appreciate it if you called these folks in particular!" he said, running off to get the phone book "They have just the right kind of patterns I'm looking for. Persian!"

Carson groaned. "Why me? Why did I agree to take care of all these high-class prisoners?" he muttered to himself.

After getting Carson to write down the number for J.C, Merchants, and assurance that it'd be resolved with reasonable speed, Jean bid a frazzled Carson adieu, and sat down to Supper. 

(\\\}=====>

After finishing his rounds with the other High-Profile Prisoners, Carson made his way to the Warden's Office.  He had to take care of Mr. Silverstine's carpet nonsense. 

A few hallways and one elevator  later, Carson stood outside a large steel door, with a small screen and red button next to it.  He pressed the button, and as a result, the small TV lit up, showing the Warden from a desktop view.

"Yes, who's there, and state your business." Barked the voice of the Grand Warden, Maleisus. He was focusing on his writing, not the camera.

"Warden, it's me. Someone wants to use the phone." 

The Warden looked away from his paper, and at his end of the video-link. "Carson. Why didn't you just say so? Come in." he pressed a button below the view of the screen, and it went blank. A moment later, a buzz was heard, followed by the sound of heavy weights shifting.  The steel-gray door swung inward slowly, and Carson shoved it along, heavy as it was.

Once he had cleared its radius, the door began to swing back with a faint mechanical hum. As it closed with a light clang, two thick metal bars slid into their places in brackets across the top and bottom of the door.  But Carson did not stay to watch all that. He had seen it before, as well as the rest of this Foyer. There was no furniture, save for a  empty, white, secretarial desk and a waiting-room style chair. On either side of the room behind the desk, there was a door set into an alcove

Carson passed by the desk, and entered the door on the right.

In this inner room, there were no windows, but it was well lit, seeing as how the ceiling was all white fluorescent lights, like the ones you would see at a dentist's office, or a hospital. 

The walls were covered in papers, corkboards, posters, even two very large screens. Whatever the medium was, it displayed information. Wherever wall was visible, it was whitewashed. In the center, along the back wall, sat Maleisus at his large, but simple oak desk. His flat desktop was not clean. It looked chaotic, with thin stacks of papers, a single tablet, and 2 calculators, one of then spitting receipt paper as he tacked in equations from a scroll he read. However, if one had the chance to observe for a uninterrupted minute, one would notice Maleisus had a place for everything; He just didn't bother to label and organize every aspect of it. There was a profound lack of knick-knacks, pictures, or even snacks. 

Truly, this inner room was either the lair of a workaholic, or the haven of a dutiful servant of thedude. 

"You said someone wanted to use the phone. Who?" inquired Maleisus, not looking up from his calculations.

"Your 'buddy-buddy'," Carson said, making air-quotes. This elicited a warning look from Maleisus, but Carson ignored it. "Mr. Silverstine." He clarified. "He wants some carpet installed. He needs the phone to call a certain company who have the right patterns he wants to look at for the rest of his life."

 "Jean? We have nothing to fear from Jean.  He has no will to escape.  " remarked the Warden. Go ahead and get the tapped line from under the front desk, we'll do this now. This should be most amusing."

Carson shrugged and turned to go and get the phone, when he was stopped mid-step by a strong change in tone from Maleisus. 

"Carson," he said, low and dangerous. "I am 'buddy-buddy' with certain prisoners because it is the most effective way to maintain their usefulness to our master, King thedude. I really couldn't care less for any of them, save for the fact that they have some way to advance my Liege-lord's Kingdom.  Remember, we are all mere servants of his Eminence, garnering his favor by advancing his influence. You would do well to remember this, for if you do, one day you could rise to greatness. Perhaps even greater than I. Prove you are more than the slacker you appear to be, and you will be rewarded.  Power is given to those who take it. "

Carson listened to his superior's words, halted in mid-step. When Maleisus had finished, Carson scoffed, and continued his stride, carrying himself out of the office. 

Maleisus sat back down in his padded 4 legged chair. Perhaps it was time to review Carson's loyalties and productivity.  He was a viable traitor to add to the watchlist. . .

Interlude III

Peragrine had just finished having a lovely dream, about Grandma.

He didn't have a Grandma, that he knew of, but that wasn't the point. The point was that the Grandma had made the most delicious sweets in the whole Fairytale Forest!  And it had been a lovely dream, filled with sweets, and tastes, and cute rabbits, and red-hooded delivery girls, and mysterious wolves and...

Well, it was over now. He was awake.

 He knew this because he saw... inky blackness,   Rather, he had his eyes closed. 

"Oh, but what's the point?" he thought.  "If I open my eyes, it's not like I'll see anything different. Just... Grey, instead of black. Big Whoop. No, better to IMAGINE something else is there..." 

Smiling to himself, he imagined... that leaning against the far wall was a giant cookie... No! Even better! That the wall ITSELF was made out of Cookie Dough! And all he had to do to pass the Crazy Cookie Contest was eat through the wall before the Big Bad Wolf! Yes! But there was one problem. The bakers had announced that there would be no Milk to be had with this cookie dough!  Because Milk was not served in a dunge-  Oh dear.

Peragreine had reminded himself of his reality. He had reminded himself of the Dungeon.

Sighing, he opened his eyes.

But to his surprise, he was NOT in the dungeon!  Instead, he was standing, free of any restraint, and about a yard away was a wall of Cookie Dough, underneath a festively adorned Stone archway!  On either side, some bleachers extended from the towers the arch bridged, and all sorts of creatures and citizens cheered from there! All of this was on a white expanse, that had no end! 

 A turtle stood up on his seat near the top of the left bleachers, and yelled "Go B.B.W!"

"Yeah-ha!" replied a gruff voice next to Peragrine. He looked to his left, and up.

There was the Big Bad Wolf, in a runner's Tank top.  The Wolf gave the turtle a thumbs-up, as he jogged in place. Then he turned and looked down at Perry. 

"Watcha think, Kiddo?"

Peragrine looked up, agape. "I don't believe it!" he replied.

The effect was instantaneous.  

The Big Bad Wolf frowned, and like the snapping of jaws, Peragrine was back on the table. Staring at the Stone. 

Feeling the Cold. 

Hearing.... 

The Silence.

Stone. Cold. Silence.

Chapter 6: Midnight Delivery

Maleisus set the listening device down on his desk. Sitting down himself, he pressed the Speakerphone button, and in response the machine gave a dial tone. He lowered the volume to listen.

"Anytime now. Let the absurdity commence." 

|||||||||

Carson walked down the hall, lugging a small wagon behind him. Passing many numbered doors, he stopped outside one labeled 343. Dropping the wagon handle, he fished out a small set of keys from his pocket, and unlocked the lock on the door. Then, he moved over to the keypad, and entered his personal Caretaker I.D. ,  the time and date, and the room number. Finally, he scanned his hand on the surface next to the keypad. In response, there was a faint chime heard inside.

"Hopefully that woke him up, and I won't be assaulted with a broomstick." He thought. 

Scanning his hand to sound the chime again for good measure, he opened the door and pulled the wagon through with him. 

It was very dark in there, as no lights were on, save for the light coming from the hallway.  As Carson maneuvered the small wagon around the door, he heard some light scuffling and bumbling coming from off to the side. As the door shut, a small lamp was turned on, and Carson saw Jean getting out of bed, confused and wary.

"Hullo? Who's there?" he asked, looking into the darkness of the room.

"Mr. Silverstine, it's me. Carson."

"Carson! Thank heavens it's you. You gave me a bit of a spook!" Jean-Claude said, as he fished for a flashlight in his side table drawer.

"Not intentional. I'm here to drop off your phone for you to use." Explained Carson.

"Really? That was fast. But at this time of night? Ah, here it is."

"Yeah. The Warden wanted to get it to you as soon as possible." 

"Ah, Maleisus. You tell him thank you for me, won't you?" requested Jean as he walked over to Carson with the help of the flashlight.

"Yah, sure."

"I truly appreciate that!"

"Mmhmm."

"Close your eyes, Carson, my good fellow! I'm going to turn on the lights. 3...2...1!"

Carson blinked and squinted like a disgruntled owl.  He got a good look at Jean, who was quite cozy in a striped light blue nightgown and cap. 

Jean opened his eyes carefully, and saw Carson, who was in his usual aide's attire, blinking under the sudden light.

"Tsk tsk. Didn't I say to cover your eyes?" he admonished

"I'm fine, thanks." Carson muttered.

Jean shrugged. Then he looked down at the wagon.  It was full of various phones, cords, and hookups.

"Goodness, that's alot of phones."

"Yup. Go ahead and take your pick."

"Honestly, I had no idea there were so many options." He admitted. "What's the best choice? I mean, the Yellow Pages just had this one on the front," he said, picking up a wireless handheld set.

Carson tried to ignore that Jean was holding it upside down.  But he couldn't. He realized he would be here awhile.  

Sighing, he rummaged through the phone-wagon and pulled out an antique rotary phone.  "Here. This is more your style." He said, trading Jean for the wireless handheld.

Curious, Jean poked the dial, and spun it experimentally. It gave a 'briiiing' as it rolled back.

"Oh, how delightful!" he exclaimed! " . . . How does it work?"

(/\/\/\}=========>

20 minutes later saw Carson setting up and educating Jean on his new rotary phone.

"Which is just a waste of my time, since we're going to have to take the phone away once he's done." He thought with no small amount of annoyance.

"...Right. So when you're ready to dial, you'll lift the headset, and you'll hear the dial tone." Carson was explaining.

"The 'Bweoooo' sound, right?" asked Jean.

Carson stared at Jean. "...Right. Sure. The 'Bweoo' sound." He affirmed.

Jean-Claude picked up the handset and put it to his ear. "Bweoooouuuuuuuu..." he imitated.

Faced with this embarrassing behavior, Carson face-palmed. He was sure Maleisus was listening on the other end of the line, guffawing most disrespectfully.

"Oookay. Well, it looks like you're all set up, and you know what to do, so I'm heading out." Said Carson, moving towards the door.

"...ooou- Oh! Well, wouldn't you like to watch me call them?" suggested Jean.

Carson shook his head good-naturedly. "Naw.  Normally, I would, so that I could take the phone after you're done with it, but it's late and I need to get some rest," he said to Jean; But to himself he added sourly, "a rest from all you spoiled, stuck-up aristocrats!"

"Well... Okay." Conceded Jean, hanging up the phone. 

Carson nodded, and walked over to the waiting wagon by the door. 

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Silverstine." He said tiredly. 

"Yes! Farewell, and Goodnight, Carson!" Jean regretted that he could not go hold the door open, as it would be taken the wrong way.

Instead, he just stood next to the phone and watched helplessly as Carson wrestled the wagon through the door, and close it behind him.

Leaving him all alone.

{[=|=]}

Chapter 7: To End the Interludes.

A breeze.  The smell of corn. The sound of bumblebees.

Perry opened his eyes. He was leaning against a cornstalk in the middle of a cornfield.

"Hey! This is the old Farm!" Peragrine realized.

Then he heard a vehicle sputtering and puttering off to his left.

"The old Pickup Truck!" Peragrine took off at a run, dodging the cornstalks. But as he ran, the cornfield did not end...

"I'm sure we had Potatoes around here... Did someone plant more corn???" he inquired of the wind. Needless to say, it didn't answer.  The puttering of the unseen truck got louder, and became a frightening rumble. At the same time, so faint Peragrine was unsure if he really heard it, there was a whispering voice..."What is going ON here? I just want to see Pa! I'll bet he's returning from Toothpike," he thought, remembering the town that was a few miles out from his childhood home. 

As he continued to scamper through the stalks, the ground beneath him began to tremble. That's when he realized that the sound was coming from the ground. It was an earthquake!  The ground was breaking into large chunks! The cracks in between were gaping holes of blackness! Before he could quite react, The ground was entirely disintigrated, and his next step saw him carreening into nothingness. But he felt strangely unafraid. There was a tremor in the air, and suddenly, he felt much more.... Alert. He seemed to be awake, but he was not in his prison cell, even though it seemed to be as dark -indeed it was darker.

 No, wait. He could see many little white shining dots all around him. They were stars... surrounded by the thick blackness of the night sky. But there was no ground, from which to look at the sky. There was only the sky. Was he at space? Then, how was he alive...? This was a very exciting experience!

"Hello there!" a voice coming from behind startled him.

"Hmm? Who's there? Pa?" asked Peragrine, peering into the darkness.  "Where am I?"

"Pa? No, that does not happen to be my name," said a man slowly phasing into existence in the neverending realm of space. He was an old man featuring, long gray hair and beard, a light blue hat upon his head, green robes of three shades and an eyepatch. Despite his age, he looked to be quite energetic and had a kind expresion on his wrinkled face.

"Oh wait! What's that?!" he said taking off his eyepatch. "Sorry, I'm a little rusty on the astral arts!" He tossed the eyepatch into space and it continued moving forever, no forces being there to stop it.

Peragrine looked at the old fellow. Then he looked at himself. He was wearing a light grey gown, and little else. Looking back up at the man, with his kind smile, he asked, "Who are you? Where am I?" 

"You may call me Steffan Rhyffed, if you like. As for your other question, what do they call it? Is it the Lost Plain? No. The Moorlands? Nah! Oh, it's the Astral Plane, of course!"

Peragrine brightened up upon having a name to adress the strange fellow by. "Well, Mr. Rhyffed, it's a pleasure to meet you!  I've never been to the Astral Plane, but it's quite interesting here! Why just a moment ago, I was walking in a cornfield! and then, the ground broke apart, and... Or was that a dream? Is this a dream? I hope not.

"Well, I'm not sure. I could be dreaming now that you mention it. But in any case, did you, by any chance, bring any corn?"

Peragrine scratched his head. "Gee. No, I don't think so. That's a shame. I really should have thought of that," he admitted dejectedly.  "I really wish I had."

"Well, don't think too harshly of yourself, boy! I'm sure we can find something to eat here! Or is that the Ethereal Plane? I'm not sure. Tell me, have you seen any Ice cream stands around here?

Peragrine's stomach growled.  "No. It's been forever since I ate, I think. Did they have munchies where you came from?"

"Munchies? Are you talking about those winged scaly, skin- 'n'-bones creatures that have two heads with a complete set of razor-sharp teeth? If so, I have one such pet!"

Peragrine blanched at the man's description of the creature, but had the reverse reaction when told he had one as a pet. "Cool!  I'll bet he's a great hunter!  Like a falcon! Only toothier."

"Well, you know he's on the lazy side. He prefers me to be the hunter for him!"

"Hehehe!  That sounds about right. Pets. Gotta love'em." Peragrine said, beginning to relax. "But if that's so, you must know some good places for lunch. Or is it Breakfast? I'd try going back to the Farm I was just at, but it was rather strange. Maybe you know someplace better! After all, you live here, don't you?" Peragrine assumed he did.

"Why that's a huge leap of logic!" exclaimed Steffan Rhyffed. "And that's odd, considering you can't leap with no ground to stand on! I actually have a very respectable home elsewhere!"

"Oh." Peragrine said, chargrined. "Then... Why are we here?" he asked looking up at Mr. Rhyffed.

"Well, it was the only way I could contact you! Can't exactly use a physical form to find you?"

Peragrine gasped. "You brought me here??? But why? What for?  Is this about when I borrowed Sneezy Icewhisker's Staff?

"Sneezy Icewhisker?! I hate that guy!" suddenly Steffan Rhyffed shouted.

"I knew it was about him!" exclaimed Peragrine.  "I'm sorry! I just wanted to fix the snowmen that I acidentally snowplowed in my racecar!"

"Snowmen? My mortal enemies! I was friends with one once, but he stole my girlfriend!"

"I didn't want Melty Puddles to think I was a monster, and I thought  Wizard-Staff-Handling looked easy.  How was I to know that hitting the snowmen would blow them up and turn them into Ice Trolls?!"

"Did you say staff? Yeah, you won't be needing any in the future!"

"You know my future? What does it look like??? Do I ever escape the dungeon?  Do I ever find Stirling?  Does Bethany send me pie?"

"Your future? Nah! I can't make head or tales of that other than what my logic defines. But I've got a friend who's good at that stuff. You know, the future is not so misty to her as to others. So, when she tells you 'Find the green wizard boy! He's going to need your help and you his' you listen to her!"

Peragrine blinked.  It took him a moment to realize what Mr. Rhyffed was saying. "Wait. You're saying...You're saying... You know about my Magical abilities? But I just found out about them! I don't know how to use them yet, though. It's all slippery, and I can FEEL them- er, it.  It's wonderfully fizzy. But I can't always... Grab it. Use it..."

Peragrine lost focus, as he saw the wonderful energy he was talking about, radiating from him.  He began calmly twirling a strand of the delightful lime green energy around his finger and completely lost focus of the man in front of him.

Steffan nodded his head sagely. "Yeah, I can sense your magic very well. You're full of its odour, you know! As for your inability, that's what I'm here for! You see, I am an Enchanter myself!" 

This news grabbed Peragrine entirely. "REALLY!? That's great!!! ... What's an enchanter?"

"Fool of a Wanderthistle! You don't even know what an enchanter is?! How am I supposed to teach such an ignorant boy?"

Then, as if there was someone else talking to Steffan Rhyffed, whom Perry couldn't hear or see, he said, "Yes, yes, you're right! I should just explain him and all will be fine. Don't know why I didn't think about it!"

Peragrine was now very confused, as well as worried. "Uh, yes. I'd very much like an explaination. Which isn't like me, come to think of it, but I guess it'd be smart to take a page from Stirling's book here..." he said with furrowed brow.

Mr. Rhyffed launched into explaination: "Well, enchanters are just the top of the magical scale. There are many kinds of magical practicioners. There are wizards, sorcerers, magicians, warlocks, prophets, necromancers and so on and so on. Enchanters are the most powerful of them all, the ones who can manage the most complex of magics and harness great amounts of magical energy without being fried by it"

Steffan looked at Peragrine, who was who had an excited expression, waiting to hear more and remaining silent. 

"Well, I have summoned you here in order to show you the magical ways! You're going to need this knowledge in the future. Big things are coming along! You should be ready for them!"

Peragrine grinned.  "I know... I'm ready." He said."Teach me, Master Steffan."

"Oh. Master! That has a nice ring to it! Do you promise to do whatever I tell you, however ridiculously crazy or dangerous it may be?" he said with an evil grin.

"Like in Kung Fu Kid? Yes." affirmed the innocent boy.

"Good good!" he said, actually sounding like Emperor Palpatine from 'Star Walk'. "Now, let us begin! I do not believe I can maintain this connection long enough to teach you the more complex stuff, so I will be showing you just the basics today!"

Peragrine didn't quite understand what he meant about connections, but he agreed anyway. "Okay. Basics."

Master Steffan began. "The basic problem of the magical arts is that raw magical energy and actual real magic are two distinct things. You could say they are cause and result, but that's not exactly. What a magical practicioner wants is to take this energy and channel it in order to create the magic of his will."

"M-hmm. Like Imagination into Electricity." Reasoned Peragrine.

"Perhaps." Mused Master Steffan. He continued.

 "To focus your energy into being, concentration on the desired result and control of this energy are everything. There are many ways to achieve this. Some use words, some movement of their limbs, some use objects like staffs and rings and for some the sheer thought of the desired result is enough.

Every magician has their own style, but the magic we are doing today is simple enough for any respectable magical practicioner to be able to cast on will.

The first thing you need to learn is to manipulate the energy that permeates every part of your body. If you manage perfect control of its, the only things limiting you are your concentration and imagination. And of course the limits of your powers. Everyone has limits to what they can achieve by magic. Hmm, perhaps that was an unfortunate choice of words... But you get the idea!" finished the man.

"So... I need to feel the magic? To use it? or actually, control it?" Perry inquired. "I mean, I feel a fizzly-ness in my gut, but in 'all my body'? Eh, not so much."

Master Steffan forged onward. "Now, what I want you to do is to try to clear your mind and concentrate on your inner being. Can you feel the energy surrounding it, penetrating it, permeating it?"

Peragrine wasn't sure he could, but he knew he could try. He closed his eyes tightly.  He tensed up, focusing. He could feel his energy. It was all in a tight ball. As he focued on it, the fizzlyness intensified... but he couldn't seem to get it to release into all of his frame, like Master Steffan had described.

He sighed. He was not frustrated. He was just slightly confused.

"Having trouble?"

"Kinda. It's there..."

"Girlfriend trouble?"

"I just can't get the lid o- what? No! Why would I have Gi- No."

Peragrine blushed and suddenly found he couldn't look Steffan in the eye.

"I know how it feels to be young, Perry! I can understand, tell me!"

"It was a looooong time ago, really. Not important now..."

"Perry, the troubles of the heart are never unimportant!" then suddenly: "What do you mean I'm getting sidetracked?! The boy's heartbroken!" He was once again talking as if there was a third person "Magic? Right, got to stay focused!"

 "She was trouble," Peragrine was whispering, "And besides, she went for Hargrov. . ."

"Anyway, what were you saying about the lid?" Master Steffan Rhyffed asked.

Peragrine was brought out of his reminising by the steady gaze of his Master.

"Hmm? Oh. Sorry. What were you saying? Lid?  Yeah. I feel my energy, but it's all tied up."

 "Good thing you're a step ahead, boy! I hadn't yet instructed you to try and spread it all over your entity, from your heart to the edges of your fingers and toes. Bad news is... you'll have to do it now!" informed Rhyffed.

"Oh!" Peragrine said, glad that he seemed to be grasping the idea quickly. "Um, but how? How do I spread the energy?"

"Hmm. Let me think... will a fish help you?" he said and conjured a fish out of his robes.

Peragrine accepted the fish from Master Steffan, and not knowing what else to do, slapped himself with it.

"You know what this fish needs? A Stick."

"A stink? You like stinky fish?"

"Hmm. It is odd that it doesn't stink. If it did, all it would be missing is a stick. Then it would be a fantastic weapon." Admitted the boy. "But since it doesn't stink, it still needs a stick. Food is always better on a stick.

"Maybe, we should begin an adventure to find its sti- Wait, I'm getting sidetracked again, aren't I?"

Peragrine considered a moment. "Well, if you are getting sidetracked, then so am I. So it's both out faults." He speculated. "But if it's just us out here, then really there is no other tracks to be sided off to, so I think we're good!"

"But on your problem, when you think of your energy, is there a physical manifestation of it that you can perceive in any way?" questioned the Master, curious to find what the boy would say.

Peragrine did not hesitate. "I moreso feel it like a fizzy soda pop, but when I have been able to use it, it sometimes feels more smooth like a .... Like Yogurt. But as for sight.... Yeah! Just a minute ago, it was sorta a green mist, or transparent um... paint?"

Master Steffan mulled the idea over. "It sometimes helps if you imagine the fizzy soda pop or the green mist to flow through you. Why don't you try that?" he suggested.

"Flow.... Ok."

Peragrine screwed his eyes shut again. He tensed up, his hands together in fists.  He felt the magic inside him imediatly, and it fizzed strongly.

"Flooow." he reminded himself. 

 Relaxing his hands, he moved them down from his chest and out, towards his toes, staying erect.

It worked. He felt the Fizzly feeling rush out, into all his frame, and as the wave reached his extremities, the fizz fades, leaving a smooth, warm and blanketed sensation all around him.

"Do you feel it?" asked Steffan.

Perry sighed contentedly. "Yes."

"Well, now release it outside of yourself!"

Peragrine was suprised. "Well of course!" he thought, "but on what?"  He then looked at Steffan's fine clothes, and a though occurred to him. He released the magic upon himself, and one bright green flash of light later, Peragrine was in his own finery!

"That is very good, Peragrine, but you might want to try something simpler for now!" stated his Master. And indeed he was right, for, after a second, the clothes returned to their original state. "It's a good thing you didn't set yourself on fire, though!"

"Oops." Replied the apprentice, mildy embarresed.

"You actually did very well." commended Master Steffan; "Usually we begin with just releasing the energy -and what comes out is just that, energy- and then combine it with manipulating it in doing something. You did that with no trouble!"

Still feeling the blanket of power, he shoved his hands in the direction he wanted, away to his left, simply releasing it, as Mr. Rhyffed was describing. He could see a sizable ball of green flying off into the distance... The infinite distance...

Master Steffan Rhyffed watched the boy, as the boy watched the green sphere.

 "Very well! You have exceeded my expectations. You are a very good pupil! This practice of manipulating your energy becomes routine for you, if you exercise it often. A proper wizard performs it almost subconsciously, when he wants to do magic. What I want you to do now is repeat the same thing, but this time try to focus the energy on some result. Here, try to levitate the fish!"

Peragrine tunred and looked at the fish.  It was a usual fish, floating in space. . . Which was rather unusual. . . But that was not the point. Closing his eyes, he felt the magic inside him, relaxed to let it flow through him. Once he felt blanketed in the magic once again, he opened his eyes, and considered the fish intently.

 Perhaps too intently. Pointing at the fish, it exploded.

"Oops." He said again, for the second time.

Wiping some of the fish from his face Steffan spoke:

"Perhaps, you should stay more focused on what you're doing on the fish and less on the fish itself. And, you know, to perform the particular spell, you'd need a tad less energy. And by a tad I mean tons and tons less! Now, let's try again!" and the fish's pieces started to fly back to each other until the fish was whole again.

Meanwhile, for no reason at all, Steffan began slowly spinning vertically towards his side.

Peragrine took a deep breath... Then realized they were in space, so that did nothing. Master Steffan was entirely sideways now, and still going. Still feeling energized, he tried to 'act casual' and flicked a claw at the newly reformed fish.

It seemed to work, sending the fish straight up and then stopping abruptly, but it was not as controlled as Master Steffan would have liked, considering his bemused face...Or perhaps he just looked bemused, due to being upside-down... Or was it Peragrine who was upside-down?

"Well, it's better than fish-splosions! But try once more. And this time try not to send my brunch to outer space!"

Unphased, Peragrine tried one more time: Holding both hand out, staying casual, but cool. He moved the fish carefully. Up. Down. In a circle, in an orbit, around himself, while spinning and a few other directions, as directed by his Master. It all went rather well, but upon latter inspection, though, the fish appeared cooked.

"Hmm, I can't use it for procfroc now, can I?" Rhyffed mumbled. "Well, I think you get the general idea of it and we can get back to it later, if necessary. Let's try something else. How about conjuring some fire?" he said, forgetting his wisdom, considering Perry seemed to be trying too much and fire is not to be played with.

Peragrine's eyes lit up.  "Oooooh!!! Yes Please!" he said. Then he checked himself and said "Are you sure that's ok?"

"Ok? Why wouldn't it? What can a harmless flame do? Besides the simplest fire conjurations don't actually burn, they are just warm."

"Okay!" giggled Peragrine. How would I do that? Fuel the energy to my hand, and imagine?"

"Something like that. Try to keep it small, though!"

 "Right. Riiiight," Peragrine conceeded, giving Master Steffan a thumbs up, and what he hoped was a serious look. He then held out his left hand palm-upward, and focused just a SMALL tidbit of his magic from the rest of his body to his hand. He felt his arm tingle a bit, and noted that it was supposed to usually be smooth by the time it reached his arms, not tingly... His hand got very warm, and a moment later, a green flame appeared in his palm. But it did not burn him.

"Careful, careful!" he said to himself. The magic in his body seemed eager to supply his endeavor, and his arm began to grow in strength.

Master Steffan watched curiously to see how Perry would do.

At first the flame was small enough to fit in Perry's palm, but as the half-seconds ticked by, the size began to fluxuate.  It quickly grew to the size of a foot, getting taller than Perry, and the base of it had swallowed Perry's hand.  The immediate space became warm, and Perry was sweating, looking at where his hand was, the middle of the flames licking his face, but doing no harm. Then the flame shrunk about half that size, to about two studs high, and much more manageable. Peragrine smiled as he saw the flames tips reaching for his chin. Then he flipped his hand down, and the flame was extinguished.

 "Good, good. SPACE SQUIRREL ATTACK!!!" Steffan shouted all of a sudden.

"Wait, WHAT?!" hollered Peragrine, and he shook his hands, as if he was warding off a dozen Squirrels and the fire reignited on both hands and sprayed in all directions.

Steffan snapped his fingers and the flames that had caught on his beard and clothes ceased.

 "It's a good thing we're on the Astral Plane, otherwise we'd be badly burnt, right now!"

Peragrine flipped his hands down to his sides, extinguishing the flames on them.

"Sorry, Master Steffan. Didn't mean to roast you." he apologized, paranoid of his hands and any possible phantom Space-Squirrels.

"But I meant to scare you!" Steffan laughed.

Peragrine chuckled, realizing that his Master was quite crazy, and finding he was quite happy with it. "That you did!" 

"Now, let's continue to the next thing!" Mr Rhyffed announced.

Dusting himself off, and brushing some soot off Steffan, Perry Nodded enthusiastically, and the Apprentice and Master continued their magical exercises.

##C ~ ~ ~ * <======{\\\\)

After what felt like an extensively long time, filled with wonders beyond his wildest imagination, Peragrine suddenly noticed that Steffan Rhyffed had begun getting transparent. When he spoke, his voice sounded distant as if it was coming from afar:

"Peragrine, interesting things are about to begin happening. But they are equally dangerous. You need to be ready for them. But when all is over and you reckon things are calm, travel to the Tuleiren mountains. For now, there's only one more thing I can do to help you. When you wake up, all of this is going to be fuzzy, but you will remember what I taught you. But you'll need more to escape!"

Peragrine had began feeling sleepy now, or was that wakey? Steffan, now very much like a ghost, quickly dashed towards Perry and when he reached the boy he bumped his head on the latter's. Perry woke up suddenly; he was back at the prison cell. But now he was full of energy...

END PART 1 OF 

TO DEFY DOOM.

To Defy Doom: Act 2: The Dominos Fall

Chapter 1: Persian Carpets

'briiiing, briiiing,' The phone rang, as Jean listened. It took a few rings, but eventually someone answered.

"J C Merchants, this is Yasmine," a young girl's voice said. It was accompanied by a static sound of faint wind-chimes.

"Hullo! I'd like to order some of your Persian Carpets!"

"Ok! What is your name and number, so we can reconnect if we lose your signal? You are very far out right now, and it's putting a bad strain on our connection..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you might experience some annoying background chimes. That's because the spell isn't holding well, so please give me your name and number, just in case."

"Goodness! Yes, where are my manners? The name is Jean-Claude Silverstine, and the Number is 10-26-"

"Please hold while I transfer you to an associate." 

"Oh? Um, ok! Goodbye!"

The static-chimes faded a bit, and a melody of Indian flutes and finger cymbals took its place.

(::::}========>

Maleisus sat at his desk, having his morning repast. Soup, of a recipe from his Easterner Homeland, and some hearty bread. Simple fuel, for a optimal body.  But as he ate, he also listened. He listened to the strains of the flutes, the twinkling of little bells, and the other various instruments. He listened as the tune faded, and an older, yet softer, feminine voice came on the line. 

"Hu-llo? This is  Sandhya. Thankh you for whaiting. How can I helhp?" asked the woman. She had a very thick accent.

"Hello! Yes, I was talking with another lady, and she cut me off, but I was looking to buy some Persian Rugs!" came the tremulous yet chirpy voice of Jean.

"Mmhmm. Yes. Yasmine wrote down your enformation. Meister... Silveerstein?"

There was a muffled chuckle. "Yes. That's me." 

Maleisus leaned back, already done with his meal, and itching to get on with his day. Many things, as always, required his attention. This was going to be a long conversation, but he had to be certain this was not a hidden ploy that would harm his master's reign. All things must be certain under his watch, for nothing less than that could be allowed to mar his Majesty's reign. At least, not in his jurisdiction. Not if he could help it. And there was no better exemplification of this fact than the fate of the previous Grand Warden, who had allowed the pathetic vandal Sir Talmid to escape. . . He had found out what the inside of a Volcano felt like....

(:::}========>

Jean laid the receiver down in it's cradle.  

It was all set! Sandhya had been extremely patient. They would arrive a few weeks from now, with their best selection of rugs, Persian and otherwise! He couldn't wait! 

"I only hope I survive until then..." groused Jean-Claude, as he wrapped his robe a bit tighter around himself, and shuffled his feet in his slippers.

(::::}========>

Maleisus waited a moment, to be certain it was not a trick. Not that he believed Jean would try, but because he wanted to confirm that notion. Then he turned off the tapped line, disabling Jean's ability to make any other calls.    Making a mental and physical note to remind Carson to pick up the phone when he arrived for his morning rounds, the Headmaster Warden continued with his duties. . .

Chapter 2: Destiny Awaits!

(::::}====> 2 1/2 Weeks Later, 15 miles from Mount Thunderclap <===={::::)

In the camp of JC Merchants, lights and campfires were being put out for the night.  But in the largest tent, in which the leadership resided, the lights stayed on.

Four women of varying ages, two older, two younger, stood around a small circular table, elegantly carved.  They leaned over an incomplete layout of the nearby fortress, gathered from gossip from many mouths over many stops. One of the older two women spoke.

"So it's settled. Genny, you'll take care of our client, since you talked to him, and he will recognize you and not us." Said one elder to the other.

"And I wouldn't want Bethany to be in the very belly of the beast alone." added the second, Genny, motioning to the younger one at her side.

"Correct," affirmed the first.

"Well, I don't feel much better either way, because that means you'll be in the proverbial belly of the beast, Mother!" replied Bethany.

The four all together began to sigh or speak, but the other young one spoke the loudest with her voice and hand motions.

"None of us like it, and we'd all volunteer, but the fact of the matter is that Mrs. Richardson here is the best suited. Me and Mother simply can't risk being recognized by Jean, and the best choice out of the two of you is your Mother, seeing as how he talked with her on the phone... Sorry, Beth." Apologized the girl to her friend.

"No need to apologize, Emily!  It all makes sense..." Bethany reassured.

"In fact, thank you, Emily.  That's called keeping focus! Something my husband lacked." Genny agreed, ending on a soft note.

There was a moment of respectful silence.

"Besides!" said Emily, grabbing Bethany's hand, "We have our own risky business to attend, right Beth?"

Bethany nodded, "Yep! Risky Business!" 

Both girls giggled.

"That's right, and both of us will be worried sick every moment." Stated Emily's Mother, as the two mothers shared nervous smiles.

Bethany turned to her. "Well then, for what it's worth, Mrs. Silverstine I solemnly promise to take care of her like the sister she has become to me."

"And I too. For her. Like a sister." Concurred Emily to Mrs. Richardson.

The next moment of silence was filled to the brim with emotion. Thereafter, the planning and worry was set aside; they had gone over it quite enough.  

The lights did not go out for quite some time thereafter, as the two broken families found solace in their unity found in duty, but eventually rest found all of them.

They would need that rest, for destiny awaited them!

Chapter 3: 'JC Merchants' Arrives

[Song used while writing: MOKA - Kotake And Koume's Theme (Rearranged) - The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time Music Extended] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xfm7gS1-oxw

Wonderful day! The Merchants had arrived! Jean-Claude knew this, because there was some general extra hubbub coming from the city below.

As he looked out from a turret window in his Office Alcove, he could see a large crowd by the Main gate in the short distance as, just entering the city were 4 to 6 distinctly oriental wagons. Complete with a good smattering of overpacked Camels that towered above the chaotic crowd.  Jean-Claude chuckled. He could only imagine what all the yelling and fuss was about. The Guards demanding a display of proper Identification, the Common-folk demanding a display of the exotic goods, and the Camels displaying their distaste of the lack of water and space. Much demanding. Much hassle. Much Camel Spit.

Jean-Claude continued to watch, till the crowd broke up, and the wagons split into smaller groups that melded into the buildings, where Jean could no longer keep track of them.

Smiling, he went about his morning, knowing that he would have some new guests very soon.

(::::}======>

A couple minutes later, Jean Claude was not disappointed, as his door rang.

"Come in, Come in! I have the kettle on the boil!" he called, as he walked over to greet his guests.

The door opened, and Carson held it wide, as a small, sturdy, two-wheeled wheelbarrow loaded with hanging fabrics made it's way in slowly and carefully. Pushing it was an older woman, dark-skinned and with a face of preoccupation.

Jean was taken aback.  "Ma'am, allow me to-"

The woman looked directly at him. "I can manage it," She said.

 At first glance, Jean has thought she was about mid to late 40s, but after seeing her face, and those eyes... Her eyes were deep brown and shadowy with age and . . . worry?  Jean stopped short in his venture to help, and caught a glance from Carson, who was now holding the door with both hands, and watching him.  

"Ah yes, that's right." This was not his house. He was an inmate, not a tenant. Not to be trusted.

Straightening up and backing off, a momentarily chagrined Jean replied, "If you wish, m'lady."

"I do." Replied the woman, as Carson took to closing and then standing discreetly by the door, being completely bored.

 

"Her eyes have a depth that tell of a higher age.   I'll conjecture... mid to late 50s. " mused Jean.

As the woman set the barrow down in the middle of the room, Jean moved forward and inspected the small hanging fabrics.  "Are these... samples?"

"Yes, these are smaller parts of the rugs we spoke about."

"Ah! Then you must be Sandhya!"

"Yes. And you are Jean-Clod Seilverstein."

"So I am! And may I say that it is a pleasure to meet you, and that your English has much improved since I spoke with you last!" complimented Jean-Claude.

"Oh, it has?" asked Sandhya, a flash of surprise flitting across her features.

"Indeed!" affirmed the gentleman.

"Well- Hmm.... Thank you." She replied, requiring her usual thoughtful expression that she had first come in with.

"You are most welcome, M'lady. Would you like some Tea? I am sure it was a long and thirsty ride!"

"Tea? Oh, yes, that would be... most gracious." The woman replied haltingly.

"Right this way! You too, Carson!"

Carson was jumped out of his space-walk to nowhere, and, after a poorly concealed rolling of the eyes, he joined the other two minifigures in Jean-Claude's kitchenette, just as the Kettle began to sing.

"Isn't it lovely? It's an enchanted kettle! Sings Opera!"

(::::}=======>

Chapter 4: Into the Belly of the Beast

song used: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xfm7gS1-oxw (Something from Legend of Zelda!)

While Jean-Claude, Sandhya, and Carson selected their various choices of tea in the upper floors of the main Castle, far below, in the city, other forces were moving.

The wagons of JC Merchants were making a tidy profit.  Each Wagon was headed by a woman, who would show various goods from the far-off lands of the east, and the crowds would come forward in droves with coins imprinted with thedude's face. Then, other associates would handle the individual transactions, while the head lady would continue on to the next pitch. All of the crowds were delighted with their goods, and all of JC Merchants were delighted with the profits.

Equally delightful and unbeknown to the majority, they were causing quite the civil distraction.  A distraction that two young girls going by the names of Yasmine and Lajila were making good use of.

The two girls, dressed in saris, and equipped with a messenger bag each, were making their way to their destination. 

"This way." Yasmine said, and grabbed Lajila who was studying a map in her hands.

"Are you sure?"

"Almost certain."

"Okay. Hey, Em?"

"Yes?"

"What are we going to say? You know, if there's guards?"

"Oh. Well, if they stop us, I've got it. Leave it to me." She said.

Lajila walked briskly behind Yasmine as they winded their way through the tight streets of the city.  It seemed the further they went into the city,  the closer the buildings got.  Many of the side streets were nothing more than alleys, and they could touch both walls if they stretched their arms wide.

Nevertheless, they eventually reached their destination. The main Castle Gate, with two masked guards on either side.  As the girls walked up to the two guards, Yasmine gave Lajila a wink, and said, "Ready?"

"Um, no." came the reply.

Yasmine appeared not to notice, but instead strode forward and called out with a practiced Eastern accent, "Hu-llo. Is this the Castle of the Great thedude?"

Both the guards turned their heads to look at the young lady. She flashed them a smile. In turn, the one on the left replied, "Weelll yes it is, missy! Were you seekin' entrance?"

"Yes. I have duties inside to perform!"

The other guard, the one on the right replied with a younger voice than the other. "What sort of duties?"

Yasmine transferred her attention to him. "Why do you need to know?" she said coyly.  The guard shuffled.

The guard on the left chuckled. "Miss, I think what the lad means to say is, what ar' ye' goin' to do inside the castle? Who're ye' reportin' to?"

Yasmine glanced at the other. "Oh. Well, that is simple. We are measuring." 

"Measurin'... what 'xactly?" 

"The Castle. Hallways. Rooms. Dungeons. Everything."

"Whate'er for?"

"Carpeting." Replied Yasmine.

"...Carpetin'." echoed the Guard, dubious.

"Yes. Did you not get the news?  JC Merchants is doing free carpeting, as a sign of their allegiance to thedude, and his magnificent reign in his soon-to-be new capitol!  We shall truly be paving the way for his arrival!" began ranting Yasmine. "His venerable feet shall not touch the stiff cold of stone! Not when we, of the JC Merchants have more appropriate flooring!  Let him walk on plush purple velvet! Let his walls be adorned with Persian Tapestries!  Let his brilliant windows be framed by silk!"

The guard on the left chuckled again.  "All right. All right. You can head on through." He said. Then he looked up, and twirled the tip of his spear in the air. "OPEN THE GATE!!!"

In response, there was some general yelling, and the metal gate slowly began rising.

"Thank you," responded Yasmine to the guard, beaming.

"No problem Missy. Just t'be sure, though, I'm goin' t'get you a guide. It's a big castle!"

"Oh, no that won't be necessary!" replied Yasmine.

"I'm 'fraid it is, Missy. T'be frank, I can't have you walking 'round the castle un-auth'rized."

Yasmine's smile faded for a moment. Then she sighed. "What a cruel world we live in, where trust is so fragile."

"I know, but ye've got a duty, an' so do I." Muttered the guard. Then he glanced at the other guard. "Zach, you keep solo watch fer a moment, eh? Won't be long!"

"Yes sir." saluted Zach, staring as the two girls passed him by.

In the next moment, Lajila and Yasmine jumped as behind them the gate plummeted shut.

"We're in!" realized Yasmine. "Now to get rid of the leash."

Chapter 5: Thunderclap Keep

The castle of thedude was very large, but not very uniform. It looked as if it was still continually being added onto. Indeed, there was construction taking place on a new turret, and also on the cliffside of the Volcano wall, which the castle was attached to.  There was a discernible original square base of the keep, but added onto that were dozens and dozens of towers and turrets, wings and add-ons. 

The guard turned to speak to his fellow guards who were guarding the inside, then he jogged over to the girls. He followed their gaze. "Welp! If yer intent on to measurin' the whole blinkin' castle, ye've got yer work cut out! I'd 'sugjist' startin' from the bottom, and make yer way to the top! Wid any luck, one o' the couriers can find the specifics for some of the upper 'ooms, but I know fer a fact that most of the lower un's don't have plans. Only King thedude knows them fer sure. Ye know he carv'd it  right out of the mount'n all by 'imself? 'Course you 'ave.  Who hasn't heard o' the King's mighty Moderatin' Powers? Great Magic tha' stuff is. Never sen'it me-self, but that don't make it any less true."

By this time, the trio had reached the base of the Keep.  The guard tapped his spear on the elaborate wooden double doors. A shifty looking, nervous servant opened it. "Hello. Gatekeeper? What's this all about?"

"These fine ladies are goin' teh measure the castle, 'ead to toe, top to bott'm, for custom floorin'! Do ya'think ye could find some-un' who could show 'em 'round, keep them outta' trouble?" Asked the guard jovially, as he stared down the small servant.

The servant raised an eyebrow. "But we already have nice carpeting." He said, confused. He swung the door open, and with a sweeping hand displayed the carpet.

The four assembled all looked at the red carpet at their feet, then at the rest of the room, which was a grand entryway, with a hallway going straight through the castle. On either side were curving mirror staircases that lead up to a balcony that wrapped all around the room and undoubtedly branched off to other places. Finally, the left and right walls had hallways as well, that continued off into the distance.  All of it was covered in a bright red carpet that was fringed with gold.

Yasmine sighed. This was getting frustrating.

The servant continued his conversation with the guard. "Do you mean they're here for the upper rooms? There are some up there that need carpeting."

"From what I understand, they're 'ere teh replace everythin', right?" The guard turned to the girls. "Ladies? It just 'ccurred to me I don't know yer names."

"Yasmine, at your service!"

"Lajila, at your service."

"Shubert, at yours!" the Servant replied.

"Right'o, and my name's Clyde." 

Yasmine looked at the servant, Shubert. "We are not here to take away any carpet, good sir. Nor to add." She clarified, looking up at the guard, Clyde. "Only to measure, for now." Next to her, Lajila nodded. "But I have to say, red is very outdated. Purple is the latest fashion!" She explained.

The guard and the servant both nodded, finally understanding. 

"Very well. I suppose you can start here then, while I get someone who can show you around." Shubert said. 

Taking out the necessary tools from their bags, the girls got right to work, as Clyde left for his post.

(::::}========>

Chapter 6: A Simple Favor

Song Used: Carson's Theme. [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uarYD5VrKLc ]

Many hours later, as the sun began to sink behind the Volcano, throwing the Keep into shadow, Carson closed the door, and typed a sequence into the keypad while Sandhya watched intently. Once he had finished, he turned and sighed.

"Something wrong?" she asked as they began walking.

"No." muttered Carson. "Just another day over with."

"Very tired?"

"Mr. Silverstine always tires me out. The man is ... so... so..." Carson gesticulated with his hands, searching for the right word. "Chirpy."

 Sandhya smiled. Carson caught her look, and smiled sarcastically back at her.

"Lemme guess, you just found him lovely company?"

 Sandhya was surprised with the thought. Thinking back on the day, which had been equal part business arrangement, and casual conversation, she realized she had very much enjoyed the entire day away! "I suppose I did!" she exclaimed, so surprised with herself she was, that her old western accent slipped through.

They had reached the elevator, and upon hearing her answer, Carson paused in pressing the button to call it. 

But only for a moment.

The two were quiet for the entire ride down, listening to the elevator music.

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjycHvoG9a4&index=87&list=PLO4jlmGoc6uBpi8ypaKAepuQOco_9efv6 ]

As the elevator opened up, a servant stood there, waiting.

As soon as Carson saw him, his eyes sought heaven, and Sandhya heard him whisper "Oh no." In that same moment, the servant began talking with great speed.

"Hi! Hullo, Mr. Carson, there are some people from JC Merchants here who need access to the dungeons to measure it for- uh- carpeting, and I think you have a key, don't you? I know I don't because, well, I'm not a prisoner caretaker, but you are, so do you think you could do that, because otherwise I'll have to bother the gua-"

Carson held out his hands. "Okay. Hi, Ryan!" he practically yelled. "I'll take care of your mess, whatever it is, if you just slooooow. Dowwn."

"....Yeah, ok. So, what I need you to do is-"

"Just..."

"-Yeah?"

"Say it in one short sentence, and then escort miss Sandhya here to the exit for me, OK?"

Sandhya simply watched as they conversed, feeling no need to interrupt.

"Sure thing, Carson, hey, thanks so much buddy."

"Yeah, no problem, shut up."

"..."

"Now, that one short sentence, please."

Ryan took a moment to collect his thoughts. Then he said, slowly, as if talking to a child, "I need you to escort two girls, Jasmine and 'La-jedi', or something like that, into the dungeons."

Sandhya gave a start, but the men did not notice.

"Why?"

"Because they need to measure it."

"What for??"

"Carpeting."

"...You've got to be kidding me."

"I know better than to kid with you Carson! In fact, that reminds me-"

"That's OK, I don't need to be reminded of... whatever. Just take-- Wait."

"Yeah?"

"Where are these two girls you were talking about?"

"I left them by Ambassador Krench's quarters."

"Alone?!"

"Well, uh, yeah I suppose so-"

And with that, Carson was gone.

Ryan and Sandhya looked at each other.

"Well, hello there, 'Sandy-ha', is it? I'll show you the way out."

"Thank you," she replied.

(::::}========>

 Carson ran along the corridors till he reached the hallway Ryan had specified. Then he started asking those around if they had seen the two girls. A few panic stricken minutes later, he found them, casually measuring another section of hallway.

"...8 bricks high" one said, stretching.

"Mmhmm." Said the other, writing it in a notepad.

"Hey! You there! You two!" yelled Carson, as he ran towards them.

The two girls spun around quickly. Carson saw fear in the one holding the notepad, and a sudden determination in the other one, who had been measuring a wall.

"What are you two doing here?"

The one who had been measuring relaxed slightly and answered. "We. Are. measuring. Has not everyone learned of this by now?" she said, waving a measuring stick in exasperation.

Carson sighed and slapped a had over his face. "Ryan was stupid to let them wander, but as always, luck looks out for idiots." "Right. And now you need to measure the dungeon for some ridiculous reason?"

"That is correct."

"Remind me of the reason?"

"We want to make every option available to the most magnificent ruler, thedude."

"Right. OK, let's get this over with."

(::::}=======>

Chapter 7: The Doom Of the Valuable

Song used: LEGO Universe Beta Soundtrack

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QLjwrg4qdXY

Carson held the door open, swinging his ring of keys impatiently as the girls came down the stairs and passed the threshold. Then he pushed the heavy door shut, hearing the ominous click as it locked behind them.

Unlike the Orlan prisons, this one was outfitted with many securities. Some modern, some mystic, some booby trapped, all very effective.    For example, this door. It was the only entrance or exit, and the only key was... no key.  It was a button right outside. Up the short stairway. It was in the tollbooth-like extension outside, on ground level, guarded by a Captain of the Guard. And the only way to contact him was the small video link next to this door.

The keys in his hand were for the individual prisoner's cells, and shackles. not the doors! It would be absurd to have to bring in the keys to freedom inside to the prisoners just to have to feed them all the time. Or feed them while they remained strung up! How ridiculous! "Almost as ridiculous as space pigeons! I sometimes wonder how we survived without electricity." Groused Carson. He turned around and leaned back against the door, staring at the girls.

The two girls stood in the middle of the room. It was a small room, with four walls, a single hanging light fixture in the middle, which was unlit, and four heavy iron gray doors on each wall. One of those being the exit Carson had just closed.

"Well?" came Carson's voice from behind. "Hurry up. Once you finish this one, we'll head to the next."

Lajila stared at him for a moment, then quickly got her measurement tools out and began scurrying about the room.  Yasmine remained standing where she was, staring at Carson intensely.

"Are you in a rush, sir?" she said, not able to hide her exasperation. 

Carson unfolded his arms and shoved off the door. He made as if to speak, but then shoved his free hand into his pocket, and acquired a 'Knick-Knack' Bar, which he proceeded to munch noisily.

"Nro." He said around his munching, which echoed and compounded in the small room.

By that time, Lajila had finished the small room, and Yasmine wrote it down and moved towards the left door. "Come on, you're the guide-" she began to say to Carson, as she reached for the handle.

"MRO! SHTROP!" shouted Carson, now choking on his bar. He rushed to stop Yasmine, wild-eyed.

Unfortunately for him, Yasmine and Lajila were feeling very high-strung being so close to their end-goal, and after Carson's attitude, and his loud outburst, Yasmine had heard enough. Her instincts kicking in, she spun around, and served him a fantastic pop to the face, and Carson was stunned. After only a moment's shock, Lajila reached out with her foot from behind Yasmine and swept Carson's feet from below him. Yasmine finished the knockout with a solid left kick to the temple.

Lajila knelt down and checked his pulse.

"He is aslee- ahem!" she dropped her accent. "He's out cold. Did you have to kick him?"

Yasmine glared at the man. "It was satisfying. I hated him." 

"You don't even know him! He was with us for like, less than 10, more than 5, minutes. How can you judge someone that fast?" asked Lajila, full of concern for this odd behavior from her friend.

Yasmine had not moved. Her eyes were glued with the object of her sudden hate.

"I... " she realized she had no idea why she disliked him, other than the fact that he had acted like any other lackey of thedude.

Lajila waved a hand carefully in front of her friend.  "Come on, Em, either way, now is our only chance to take a quick look and get out of here!" she said in her soft but urgent tone.

Yasmine focused on her friend and nodded. Lajila turned and grabbed the handle of the door.

"AAAAAHHH!" she screamed, as dark lances of purple danced over her frame. 

Then she crumpled to the floor. 

"Bethany!" cried Yasmine. She moved to catch her friend but only got zapped by latent electricity for her effort. She knelt down, and tried to touch her, but the unnatural purple electricity remained with Lajila, preventing Yasmine from checking her vitals. Her friend continued twitching.

"I need to discharge the power from her," reasoned Yasmine, trying to maintain reason. Trying, and succeeding. "And optimally, not into myself." She looked around and grabbed the nearest item. Carson. Shifting him over, she gingery dropped his arm onto her friend, and the effect was instant.

There was a small flash of white, and Carson's arm was flung back onto his face.  He grunted, and slowly began waking. However, Yasmine did not notice, as she was at her friend's side, talking with her.

"I'm here, Beth. You got shocked. You haven't been out more than a minute."

"Get on with it." She whispered. "I can't feel." Her eyes were unfocused, and she couldn't hold her head up.

"Can't feel what? Your hand?"

"Anything."

"Here, let's get you up."

"No. No." Lajila tried to insist, but her voice was failing, and Yasmine wouldn't listen.

"Come on, Sis. I'm not leaving you here in this sad place." She said as she propped Lajila to sit up against the wall while studying the handle.  

The handle was like the handle on a shovel, but on the inside, there were different segments. "Buttons!" realized Yasmine. "Lajila must have pressed them all, or some wrong variation of them," she deduced. This of course meant one other thing. 

They needed the code, and the nearest, fastest, and currently the only way to do that was.... Carson.

"It was the door," he said. Yasmine stiffened.

 Carson had propped himself up silently, and was now staring at the two of them with his typical look of disinterest.

"I know," she replied, as she turned and advanced towards him slowly. "And you're going to get us through." She finished, dropping the accent, and pulling out a knife from her sandal.

Carson sat, carefully showing indifference as Yasmine deftly displayed a knife in front of his face. "Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"None of your business." She said, a dangerous light in her eye. "What is your business is opening these doors."

Carson weighed his options. It only took a moment, and then he nodded. "Alright. I'll help you get closer to your doom." 

Slowly, he got up and wrapped his hand around the door, all the while explaining.

"Each door has the same interface in the inside of the grip.  The code is not different for each door, but is based on how many times a door has been opened since the entrance was opened. Since we just started our visit, this door is '1'. Like so." He then gripped the handle gingerly, pressing only the bottom of the row of keys. Then he twisted the handle horizontal, and the door swung outward of it's own accord. 

Yasmine watched him at knifepoint. As the door swung open, she knelt down, keeping her eyes trained on Carson.

"Beth, I'm going to go with Carson and look around the dungeon. You just rest, ok?"

Lajila's eyes fluttered open, and slowly they trained on her friend.

"Okay, Em. You finish the mission. I'll... be... waiting..." her eyes closed again, and her head drooped.

Yasmine nodded. "Be back soon." She spared a glance at her friend, then got up. 

"Ok, sadistic swine," she said to Carson. "Lead the way. We're here to search the dungeons for prisoners."

Carson started walking. "Any in particular?" he asked.

"Leave that to me!" she replied.

"You sure? This place is big, and you're the one with the knife. I could start naming folks, and you just tell me when to stop. It would get this over with alot faster."

"Just take me to highest security."

"Oh, we think big of ourselves, don't we? What makes you think I have the keys to that?"

"Then take me as far as you can, subordinate!"

"You hurt my feelings."

"To the depths with your feelings," she growled.

They had passed a few doors now, with only empty cells in between.

"Why is everything so empty?" interrogated Yasmine, poking Carson to get his attention as he opened another door, muttering "5" under his breath.

"Well, one, most of thedude's prisoners are still in Orlan, and two, these dungeons arn't actually finished yet. We're getting some security cameras laid in pretty soon." He said.  "That makes our prisoner list pretty small, compared to the expansiveness of the layout. Alot of space between most prisoners. Speaking of which, we're coming up on a prisoner now. Brace yourself."

Yasmine took his advice, while Carson muttered "7" and then opened the door.

(::::}========>  <========{::::) 

Chapter 8: Exuberance Initiated

Song used: Dust An Elysian Tail OST - 18 - I Am Dust,Extended

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7blzdnKVmBI

"Perry woke up suddenly; he was back at the prison cell. But now he was full of energy..."

Suddenly, he heard the door to his corridor being opened!

Straining his neck to see who it was, his curiosity was sated as a man walked in. "Yasmine, this is our lowest-security prisoner, Mr. Sleepyhe-" he froze once he saw that Peragrine was awake. Peragrine was about to ask him a question, when suddenly the one referred to as 'Yasmine' walked in and glanced at him.

Peragrine was stunned.  She was beautiful.  He felt like he had never seen someone quite so stunning.  Especially with her darker skin, and that odd dress she was wearing. But her eyes!  Her eyes were steely. They were not like other girls he had seen, where the eyes were soft, like you could dive into them, like he had heard about from others...  Before he could speak, he felt a familiar tugging sensation in his back, and shortly thereafter, a growing, high-pitched whine. The man seemed to snap back to reality, and dove for the girl, sending them back out of sight. 

"Wait! Wh-" Perry began, but was cut off from a abrupt force throwing him from behind. The amplified sound of glass breaking cascaded around him, and he instinctively threw himself into a combat roll, in an attempt to protect himself. A moment later, he brushed pasted something, and landed in another. He waited a moment till he heard everything settle, then opened his eyes.

He was looking straight down the hallway, Straight through the open door.

There on the ground was the middle aged man and young girl. The man was holding her down, and a knife was about a foot or two away.

"HEY!" Peragrine yelled.  The man glanced over his shoulder.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" Perry ordered. The man's eye bulged, as he looked at him.

"Unholy Wizardry!" exclaimed the man, and he scrambled to get away. "The kid's alive!"

The girl got up as soon as she could, and after a quick glance at Perry, she reached for the knife and threw it.  It hit her mark, straight in the man's back. He went down, with a grunt.

"Hey! Wait! That- Now, that was uncalled for, Miss!" Peragrine complained, as he tried to move. With sudden surprise, he found it difficult. Only then did he look at himself.

He was embedded in the wall opposite his cell. His arms and legs had penetrated the dark gray stone like clay, but now they were impossible to move. 

As amazing as this was, he had no time to contemplate, as a new voice demanded his attention.

"Hello? Who's there?" it asked. It seemed tired and weary. Peragrine looked back at his cell, where the voice had come from.  

His cell had been decimated.

There was a warped hole in the iron bars, where he must have gone through, and the doorway had been popped right out as the frame around it had bent. The back wall was entirely gone, revealing anther cell on the other side, but the voice came from the partially crumbled corner to the left, where some more chunks were being moved. As they fell, they revealed a minifigure's face. 

The newcomer was unshaven, with a black beard and black hair. His eyes were subtly almond shaped, and looked very tired. "Kinda like Stirling, when he's depressed, but not quite," thought Perry. "Hello there!" yelled Peragrine, finally yanking an arm loose to wave. Unfortunatly, a moment later, everything else came out, and he landed unceremoniously on the floor, getting the wind knocked out of him.

"Oof!"

Once his vision refocused, Peragrine saw the girl leaning over him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"You're stunning." Peragrine wheezed.

"Yeah, you're fine." She muttered. Then she waved to the other prisoner. Peragrine lay still for a moment, and heard her say. "Hello there. Were you being held prisoner as well, sir?"

"Yes," came the reply. "I was being held in that cell right there. Did you arrange that explosion?"

"No, but I am getting you out of here, as well as anyone else we can find. Do you know where are the others?"

"You want to find the others??" The male prisoner was incredulous.

"Of course! I am looking for someone in particular, but if we can free everyone, I don't know when another chance like this may come!"

"Well, if you didn't arrange the bomb, who did?"

"Was it me?" wondered Peragrine. He hopped up, having recovered his breath.

"I think it was me," he said, scratching his head, and walking over to the others standing around where his table had been. Suddenly, he began hopping up and down, trying to hold both feet while still standing. "Ow, ow ow!" 

As expected, physics took over, and Peragrine landed on the ground again, scattering small clear pieces as he sat down hard.

"Glass! I've stepped on glass." Peragrine told himself.

The man knelt down and picked up one of the many clear peices on the ground. "Not glass." He said after a close look. He gave it to the girl, who was peering at it. "Diamond."

The girl nodded. "There was an explosion of something, but it sounded different. I think this Diamond exploded."

"Then it exploded by something quite unnatural, to break apart so fine." 

Peragine had finished picking and brushing shards out of his feet. Suddenly he snapped his fingers.  "Magic!"

In response, the knife from earlier sped from the hallway and through the bars towards him, and Peragrine only just heard and saw it glance off the bars in time to duck, as it zipped past him and clattered against the broken stones.

"I meant to do that."

The other two just stared sideways down at him.

Then, a faint groan made all of them peer down the hallway at the prone form of the other man on the floor.

The girl spoke up, returning to her mission. "If anyone knows where the other prisoners are, he will."

"Right." Nodded the male prisoner, and he stalked off down the hall.

Peragrine jogged up to him. "Hey, so my name's Peragrine, what's yours?" he asked, jogging in place, and holding a hand out, as he kept pace with the man.

The man glanced at the hand, then at Peragrine. But before he could speak, Peragrine interrupted.

"Gosh, you're rather short. Have you always been that short?"

The man's brows furrowed., sizing up Peragrine. 

Peragrine did not stop. "Well, either you got short, or I got tall, so take your pick."

"Well, if he's short, then so am I!" remarked the girl behind the two of them. 

Peragrine turned and looked at her.

"Oh yeah? How tall are you?"

"5' 3''"

"No!" 

"Yes! Look, I have a measuring rod right here," the girl said, expanding a small gadget she had taken from her purse.

"Ooh! Is that a yard or a meter?" mused Peragrine, eying it carefully.

"Does it matter?" asked the male prisoner. "Look, you're much taller than it. How tall, or short, did you think you were?"

Peragrine looked down at the rod. "I grew!" he realized. It was shocking. He stroked his chin, as if he had an imaginary goatee....

Only to realize that the goatee was real.

"Woah."

"What?" asked the girl.

"Let me guess, you've never had facial hair before?" guessed the guy.

Peragrine grinned wide.  "Nope. Never." Only now did he realize his voice was slightly deeper. 

"does anyone care?" the comatose form mumbled.

The black-bearded man knelt down. "How'd he get hurt?"

Everyone responded in their own way.

"she knifed me."

"Oh, I stabbed him."

"She THREW a knife at him!"

The man nodded. "Mmhmm. I see. Was it poisoned, enhanced, in any way?"

"No," replied the girl.

Peragrine snapped his fingers, and didn't flinch as the knife appeared around the corner of the doorway and flew down the hallway and into his hand. "It was this one." He offered.

"Ah, I see the wound. Very neat. You, fortunately, just missed his heart, miss."

"Yasm- Emily, if you please. And I'm sorry, I just didn't have time to aim for something less vital to slow him down. I just didn't want him alerting the castle."

"Well, congratulation on that." Snarked the figure.

"Oh, be quiet and hold still, Carson. Unfortunately, I still need you."

"Oh, that's sweet," replied Carson, full of sarcasm. "Should've thought of that before!"

The other man was inspecting the wound, and now began stripping the shirt off of Carson.

"Hey! This shirt was designer!"

"This shirt is now bandages."

"I need to know the name of the barbarian who ripped my designer shirt!" demanded Carson.

"I would too," piped up Peragrine. "But not for my shirt."

Not stopping his treatment of Carson, he replied. "Tain. Tain Lee."

Peragrine smiled. "Ok, recap. You're Emily, your Mr. Lee, I'm Perry, and he's Carson. Cool!"

Tain ignored him for the time being. "I can stop the bleeding, but he'll need medical attention soon," he told Emily.

"Alright. Hopefully we're done by then."

"Done, or dead."

"That won't happen!" pshawed Peragrine.

Tain helped Carson to stand up.

"So you're saying I won't bleed out, but I might still smash?" clarified Carson.

"I'm saying that I've taken care of what I can. You need to get to someone who can check you more thoroughly."

"Comforting."

Emily came forward. "Alright Carson. These prisoners and I are leading a revolt. Now you better help us get everyone, or -"

"Or what," he spat. "You can't threaten me with that knife anymore. 'Doc' here says my future's uncertain." Carson said, tilting his head at Tain.

"I'm not 'Doc'."

"So I could just say 'no', and wait for the inevitable."

"You might heal just fine."

"Irrelevant, it hurts like the dickens."

Peragrine stepped in, placing a hand on Emily and Carson, to which they glanced at him, disturbed.

"Listen," began Perry, nonchalant. "We're all stuck in a laybrinthinal prison with each other, so we might as well be nice."

"You sound like Barney." Tain Lee said.

"Thank you." Peragrine continued. "So, Mr. Carson, I suggest you help us out here real quick, and then we'll get you out of here so you can get help. Sounds nice?"

Carson eyed Peragrine's hand, then looked at him directly. "How do I know you or one of the other prisoners won't smash me before we get to the exit?"

Peragrine thought a moment. "Trust. Because of trust."

"That's ridiculous! She knifed me! I can't trust you guys!!!"

Peragrine looked at Emily. She frowned, obviously frustrated. Then he looked back at Carson. He was staring at her, disgusted and wary.

"Well then, try and trust me." Peragrine offered. Then, he placed both hands on Carson, closed his eyes, and focused.

He could feel Carson's energy. It was small, and aberrant. Irritated. 

Peragrine considered how to calm it. "Maybe just coating it would work." As he envisioned a small portion of his energy leaving him to seep into Carson's shoulder, he thought he heard voices, but they seemed very distant, and not part of his little world. Then, he opened his eyes.

"-AM STUCK! Let me GO!"Carson was yelling. 

Peragrine let go, and Carson stumbled away from everyone's grasp. Slowly, he straightened up. "What did you do..?" he breathed.

"I dunno!" Peragrine replied cheerfully. "What did I do?"

Carson reached around to his back.  "I don't feel anything."

"Oh good! I must have healed it." 

"I don't think so. It's just numb."

"Hmm?" Peragrine concentrated once again.

Yes, he could feel that coating has not healed the disturbance in his energies. But he wasn't sure how to iron out wrinkles like that.

 "I guess I can't heal you like I was thinking." Surmised he.

Emily gasped. "You can heal people?"

Carson arched an eyebrow. "You tried to heal me?"

"Well, I thought I might be able to. Magic has tons of uses. Practically unlimited, but it's tricky." Peragrine said.

"I have a friend who needs help. She was electrocuted." She explained.

"First thing's first." Tain reminded everyone. "Carson?"

Carson looked at the threesome arrayed in front of him. He rubbed his back.  

"When it comes down to it, I don't really have a choice." He muttered.

"Good!" said Peragrine, taking the indifferent answer as a yes. "I was afraid I'd have to try the Jedi Mind Trick on you."

"You can do that?" gasped both the men.

"Not sure!" He turned to Carson, and began waving his hand.

Carson swatted it away. "Don't you dare. I'll help you of my own accord. The next prisoner is two tiers in, and to do that we need to get to the central hallway, which is back at the entrance."

(::::}=======>

5 minutes later showed them back the way they came, and re-entering the first room. Carson had explained to them (with the other 3 interrupting often,) that the prison had tiers, (like an onion,) and that it was necessary to return to the first room and go through the middle door, which would lead them down the hallway, (like a spine along rib-bones.) But the conversation and planning continued on after that, and as the door opened the foursome split. Tain and Carson moved towards the other door, with Tain in possession of the knife. Emily and Peragrine stopped next to the still form of Bethany.

Peragrine stared at the prone girl. She seemed oddly familiar, but Peragrine couldn't place why. Either way, he didn't need to concentrate to know that she was dying.  

Emily was talking to her friend.

"Beth! Beth. I've got a friend who can help."

Peragrine hoped he could. 

He sat down and held Beth's hand. Then he closed his eyes.  

For a panic-stricken moment, Peragrine couldn't locate Beth at all. But like one's eyes adjust to dim surroundings, Peragrine was able to isolate a faint glimmer of lavender from his own bright green, and Emily's bright yellow. 

"There." He assured himself.  He reached out, to closer observe it, or rather, her.  The light was weak and unsteady, like a candle at the end of it's wick. The edges of it were frayed, as if something had corroded it drastically. As he edged closer, the light reacted, and Peragrine became aware of a presence not his own. 

"Who're you?" it asked without a sound.

"A friend," he responded without hesitation.

"But how?"

"Show me how you should be."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

"What sort of person are you?" Peragrine tried again, trying to figure out how to mend the damaged energy in front of him.

"... My name is Bethany. I'm the Daughter of -"

"Aah!" Peragrine cried, as he scrambled away from the girl. Emily jumped at his reaction. 

"What? What is it? Is she-"

The sleeping girl exhaled deeply.

"Bethany!" cried Peragrine, distraught. As fast as he'd jumped back, he jumped forward, and clasped her hand again.

"Bethany Richardson! I know you!" he thought, rushing towards the lavender dot. "It's me, Peragrine!"

The light recoiled at the sudden disappearance and reappearance of Peragrine's mystic probe, but after identifying himself, a wave of recognition, followed by shock emanated from her. "Perry! But how? How can you be inside my mind?"

"I've learned alot since we last met." He pondered, happiness pulsing from him. "But the important thing is, I know you, and I know how to help you!" he noted with confidence. 

Relief poured out from the lavender candlelight that was Bethany Richardson. "Thank you."

Peragrine smiled, and poured his green energy through his hands into hers, and began molding it around the lavender light.  He knew he was accomplishing something right as the green light began to turn the same shade as the little light.

It took some time as Perry found he had to be careful not to give too much energy at once, or, he found, that the green majority began turning the lavender minority green.

When he opened his eyes again, Bethany did as well.

"Beth!" exclaimed Emily.

Bethany smiled. "Hey, sis." 

The two hugged, but Bethany suddenly frowned.  She looked at Peragrine.  "Perry." She began. "I still can't feel anything."

Peragrine looked her up and down. She still looked hurt and electrocuted, but she seemed to be acting fine.

"Could you feel anything before?" Perry asked.

"No," clarified Emily. "Once she was electrocuted, she couldn't feel anything." 

"Odd. Carson said the same thing, remember?" Peragrine remembered, beginning to worry he was doing something wrong.

Emily shook her head. "No, this is different."

Bethany got up before Emily could assist her.  "Well, somehow, you healed me without healing me," she said, confused, but smiling.

"I don't really get it." Admitted Peragrine. "But I'm glad you can walk!"

"Hardly. I can move, but I don't have a sense of touch anywhere in my body." 

"What did you do, exactly?" asked Emily, trying to reason it out.

"Well I..." Peragrine considered how to explain it.  "I... I gave her some of my energy." He said awkwardly. 

"It felt like drinking icy water," offered Bethany.

"She was low in energy." Peragrine tried to portray what he saw. Like a tiny dot, whereas you and I, Emily, are like suns.  So I gave her some of my energy, so that she was almost as big as you. In Energy, I mean."   Peragrine was embarrassed he couldn't explain it better.

Emily nodded, staring at the floor in concentration, arms folded.  "So you gave her this... Energy. But what did she do with it?"

The other two responded with confusion.

" Come again?"

"What did I do with what?"

"Beth, you feel wide awake, right?"

"Yes..."

"But do you feel better?"

"Well, no."

"Peragrine, you gave her energy, right?"

"Yes, or at least, I-"

"Fair enough. But what is she going to do with pure energy? She can't manipulate it like you!" Emily pronounced. "She's not a wizard. Her body doesn't know that energy you gave her is supposed to be used to mend. Granted, it might do it naturally, in time, but it's not going to do it now."

Peragrine nodded, understanding dawning on him.  "But... I don't know how to mend her, either. I don't know how to turn on the feels again...!" 

Upon hearing this, Bethany's countenance became downcast.

Not wavering in her thought-process, Emily pursed her lips in thought. "Perhaps you don't have to. Perhaps if you could just get the meaning across, magic would bridge the knowledge gap.

Peragrine shook his head. "I dunno. That sounds dangerous. I remember my teacher telling me that 'magic is best when given a sense of direction.' Or wait, was that Doctor Overbuild? Maybe it was, 'Not all who wander are lost.' No, that doesn't sound right either."

Bethany interrupted their thoughts. "Honestly, I'm just thankful to be alive. We can deal with other issues later. Shouldn't we get out of here?" she asked.

"Not without the others." Stated Emily.

"Others?"

"Yeah!" exclaimed Peragrine. "Like Carson, Mr. Lee, and anyone else they found!"

"Where are they?" asked Bethany.

"They went to get the other prisoners while Perry and I took care of you," Emily explained. "They could be back any minute, and we're supposed to wait here to not mess up the-"

A faint yell of sheer insanity whispered through the room.

"doors..." finished Emily in a whisper. 

The threesome stayed still to wait if they could hear anything, but no other prominent noise made itself apparent. Only the eerie sounds that accompanied any dungeon. The three stood in silence...

Stone.

Cold.

Silence.

Chapter 10: Through The Eyes Of Another.

After some time, Bethany spoke up again.

"So we just wait now?"

"Yes," replied Emily.

"Then tell me what's happened so far, sis."

The two girls began talking animatedly, but softly, and Peragrine, finding their conversation uncharacteristically boring, began walking laps around the room.

"I wonder what else I can do?" wondered Peragrine, remembering what he had said some time ago. 

'Magic has tons of uses. Practically unlimited, but it's tricky.'

"I wonder if I can find out how Mr. Lee and Carson are doing!"

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

He was in a black expanse, with points of life.  He was a green orb. There was the two girls, yellow and lavender orbs. There were other lines and dots of light, like being in a galaxy, but Peragrine dismissed them. They were not important. Focusing his thoughts on Mr. Lee, he was drawn to a distant group of lights in the black expanse.  In a mental blink, Peragrine was there, right in front of a orange-brown orb. Next to him was a red orb; Carson. Also there were two blues of different shades, and a grey one, and they had names that confused Peragrine. "Because I don't know them, probably," he reasoned. "But if I can see though one of my friend's eyes, then it might make sense."

In the next moment, he had impressed himself gently upon the Orange-brown orb; Tain Lee, and he was staring at two blonde men and Carson, gripping the sides of a ... Barney Bot.

"Okay, hold him there, men!"  

"N0 1 h0ld5 8urn!3807 // 8urn!3 BURNS 7h!ng5!" the robot gurgled. Then a rocket launcher expanded from it's shoulder.  

"Gotta move," echoed the thought-voice of Tain Lee. Peragrine acquired a acute sense of vertigo, as the view tipped without his control. Tain was diving to the left. Peragrine was a spectator only.

A moment later, the expected explosion occurred, and the door Tain had been standing in front of had been bent, but not broken.

"Not enough." Said one of the blonde men. Tain's view turned to look at him and Peragrine saw he had amber eyes, and his hair was a darker shade of blonde compared to the other. "We need more firepower, if you don't have access, buddy." The blonde said, talking to Carson. Carson shook his head. 

The bot chirruped.  "F!r390w3r !5 8urn!3'5 5935!al!ty!  //   L37 BURNIE 83 0f a55!57anc3." Then it opened up laser fire on the door, making mechanical chuckling noises. "Hu3-Hu3-Hu3!!!"

After some time, the door gave way, and it skittered along the next stretch of hall. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the laser cannons stopped firing.

Tain's vision bobbed up and down. "That works."

"M!55!0n C0m9l373." Squawked  the robot.

"Stand down," guessed Tain Lee, hoping commands still held sway with this odd Barnybot.

The bot turned it's head to Tain. Peragrine saw memories flash from Tain, comparing other BarneyBots he'd seen to this one.

"This one has a personality," was Tain's mental conclusion. Instead of full red eyes, these eyes had a pinpoint of red that moved around like minifigure eyes.  It's build was different; Slimmer, yet more rigid, and the paintjob was unique, but still red and black. It's legs, arms, and hands were more articulated, and it's head had a discernable neck that it pivoted on.  It was about the same height as others, which meant it was taller than the minifigures around him. Overall, it was more sinister, and unnerving. 

"! w!ll 083y." It droned.

Tain looked at the other two. "Move along, Carson."

"Aww, don't you trust me yet?" complained the bare-chested and bandaged minifigure.

"No. No questions!  No interrogations!". barked a hoarse voice. Tain's vision whipped around. The other blonde, with fairer hair and blue eyes that must have once been proud and clear, but now were dim and shifty, had spoken, and he appeared to be hyperventilating.  Peragrine sensed urgency welling up in Tain.

"Don't worry, Peter, you're going to get out of here, and then we won't have to work with the bad man." He said soothingly. Then he changed gears and added, " But for now you have to be strong!"

The other blonde with the amber eyes patted 'Peter' on the back roughly. "Show him who's boss."

"That's right. Loden speaks truth." Agreed Tain.

Peter didn't look up, but his resolve did appear to strengthen as his fists relaxed and he straightened up. Not looking at anyone, he nodded and began walking.

Tain's attention swung over to where Carson had walked over to where the discarded door lay in the next hall. He was peering into the cells.

Tain went over to see what he was looking at, and he could hear the rest of the group following him. As he drew near to Carson, the caretaker turned prisoner pointed to both sides. "I think there's two here."

"Do you have the keys, or not?"

"There's no doors. Just bars."  

Tain squinted at the bars. It was dark in here The torchlight was coming from the other room, as there were none in this room.

"I've never been this far in. There's just a wall here. This is as far as it's been built." Carson said, slapping the far wall in the darkness.

Right then, the Barneybot entered the room and lit it up with a soft red light from it's eyes, revealing the room's mysteries.

Carson was feeling a small portion of red brick wall, obviously built to seal something off.  The bars that spanned both sides of the room were unbroken by any entryway to get into the cells inside.

And in each cell lay a sleeping minifigure strapped to a table Their hands and feet were pinned in cuffs attached to the table, while a strap crossed their torsos and lower legs. 

The one on the left suddenly groaned. Tain whipped around to get a closer look, but jumped back when the minifigure spoke.

"All right, FINE!" the man, for it was a man, yelled. "I'm awake! You happy? 

What's it going to be today? Duck? Roast mutton? Or are we going to skip straight to the fun? How's about we play 20 questions? I've got one you'd never-"

The prisoner suddenly glanced at the bars. Everyone had lined up to watch the prisoner rant, except Peter, who was walking around with his hands over his ears, muttering 'nothing, nothing' over and over again.

"You guys arn't him." The prisoner realized. 

"Robot," ordered Tain. "Shoot the bars."

There was a moment of silence.  Tain's vision swung over to look at the Barneybot at the far end of the line, closest to the door.  The robot was staring at him.

"I don't think he likes you ordering him." Observed Loden.

"My n1m3 !5 BURNIE." It boomed.

"Barney?" echoed Carson. The response was like a bomb going off.

"BURNIIIEEE!" 'Burnie' screamed, as fire spewed out of it's top, and all other directions with flamethrowers, looking for all the world like an evil possessed iron stove.  Everyone dove for cover, but there was none to be had, for Burnie was blocking the only exit. They could only edge away from the robot, as it spun around and thrashed in a terrible tantrum of flame.  Tain noticed, with growing anxiety, how the fire was hot enough to be melting the bars. "I only hope he doesn't get much closer, or we'll melt!" he thought. 

"Great going, Carson, you dweeb!" yelled the voice of Loden.

"How was I to know?!" gasped Carson.

"It's getting hot in here!" yelled the voice of the prisoner whom they had seen.

All the while, the sound of roaring flames and Burnie's entirely incoherent speech continued. 

With sweat beginning to bead on his forehead, Tain decided to try and talk to the beast.

"Burnie! BURNIE! We're your friends! We're going to set you free!"

"8urn!3 ha5 n0 fr!3nd5! 8urn!3 BURNS 7h!ng5 8urn!3 LIVES 70 cru5h 1nd m1!m 1nd d357r0y 1nd SMASH!" Burnie raved, getting back on it's feet and blasting fiery molten holes in the bars of the other cell of the quiet prisoner. It slowly stomped closer with puffs of flame erupting from it's jet-boots in every step. Tain heard screams, and feared for the fate of the prisoners, for both of them were yelling now.

Tain thoughts raced. "Any Ideas, Peragrine?"

"Wait, you know I'm here?" thought Peragrine.

"Only recently did I realize. Now, do you have an idea?!"

Peragrine did, but he wasn't sure...

"Just do it!" came the urgent force of Tain's mind.

So Peragrine did it. He took over Tain, and it was like coming out of a dream; like being sucked into a screen; like fitting into a onesie. With a hood. It felt off.

Peragrine/Tain saw the robot Burnie a foot away. It raised it's fist up into the air, a fist enbalmed in brilliant flame. 

"It's like a Balrog from Lor-"

"Get on with it!"

Peragrine closed Tain's eyes for a split second. The energy was remote, and he suddenly realized....

"This might hurt," There was a sense of determination from Tain, and it strengthened Perry.

Snapping Tain's eyes open, he thrust his hands outward and forced the downward swinging arm back up. For a breif moment, there was a stalemate, and Peragrine could see wisps of green gliding from his hand and flowing against the fist of flame. Then, the arm swung back, and Burnie fought to maintain his balance.  Peragrine wasted no time, and quickly charged a ball of energy in Tain's hands, releasing it in Burnie's direction. 

"Hiiiii-Yah!" Tain's voice expelled, as he released the energy. The next moment, Burnie was carreening down the main hallway, already flying past the second open door down the hall. It's scream became more distant, till a thud was heard. 

"Good job." Commended the voice of Tain. "Now please get out." He directed.

"Aww, the ride's over? I though we were buddy-buddies now!" Peragrine teased, but acquiesced, feeling Tain's need for control growing.  "I'll leave you to it," Peragrine whispered, as he slowly receded. Soon, he was once again a glowing green orb, but was it just him, or was he weaker? Smaller? Peragrine looked about. He realized he didn't know where he had left himself in this expanse of black....

"Uh oh..."

(::::}======>

Tain Lee sank to the ground.  "Ugh."

Loden was the first to speak.  "So, you've always been a Magic user?"

Then one of the prisoners spoke. 

"Oh man! You're alive!" The voice came from the right.

"Barely. I thought for sure one of those blasts got me!" replied the prisoner across the way.

"Well I would too. I can see you almost perfectly, now that those bars don't get in the way.

"It's pitch black in here you dimwit!"

"Ha! Dim-wit. Are you saying you've got a bright one?"

The voice of Peter began whispering 'nothing' yet again.

"No. I've got a sharp wit. There's no such thing as a bright-wit, dim-wit."

"Well then why haven't you used that sharp wit to get through your cuffs and help me out?" retorted the one on the right.

A sharp scraping noise was heard on the left. "I'm working on it." The voice said over the continued sounds of metal upon metal.

Loden's voice echoed in the room. "Gentlemen, Gentlemen. We have a man with keys in the house. You want to escape, we can do that. Carson? 

(::::}========>

Chapter 11: C.P.R.

Oh yes. I think I will wait, to resolve the akwardness this Chapter Name creates, til tomorrow. :P

>>Next Suggested Story>> This story is called 'Harold didn't want any more Rises'