A/N: Greetings!
Before you begin to read what I hope will be an entertaining story, allow me to get a few formalities out of the way:
The story is set an indeterminate amount of time after 2.08 August, and is pretty much AU. So no August, unfortunately...:'(
The rating (so far) is T. Expect language, some crude humour/vulgarity, and other such things in chapters to come. I'll be sure to notify you all if ever particularly noteworthy subject matter surfaces. Also, updates will come when they come (i.e. who knows when). This is a secondary project, so it has less priority. Still, I will try to make a new outing every now and again.
Comments are always appreciated; this is my first venture into comedic territory, after all, so if I'm not doing it right, be sure to be uncompromising in your punishment. ;)
And lastly, I am in no way responsible for the absolutely weird, deranged, and absurd things that spawn from my mind. If at any point you should find yourself disturbed, then I am truly sorry. XP
So with that, enjoy!
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Chapter 1
"Do you know why we have summoned you here?"
If one knew of this place and of its nature, they would surely describe it as old. Ancient, even. But to rely on the concept of age is a rather counter-intuitive way to approach things; for age is a measurement dependent on the linear passage of time, whereas this place – much like each of its eleven current occupants – simply was, just as it has always been and always will be, from the inception of worlds to their ends, and from their ends to their inception.
This place didn't come with a name. And neither did it really need one; no thing in existence truly does. Of course, there are those that would still try, but no name they could craft would ever be adequate enough, for while it is relatively simple to assign something a name, to give a name to this place of all conceivable places was wholly inconceivable. No words, no matter how eloquent or concise, could ever measure to such a daunting task, being doomed to fail from the start.
Yet in the early times of their kind, they found it rather difficult to refer to a place without a name; for while they each understood it intuitively on an individual level, to communicate the idea of this place amongst one another – be it verbally, mathematically, or visually – quickly proved futile.
So for the sake of convenience, they devised a name that was as simple and succinct as their collective minds could conceive:
The Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place.
September stood at the relative center of the location he had once helped name, a singular beam of light descending vertically upon his being. His fellows, ten in all, were arranged in a circle around him, each standing on nondescript cylinders of varying heights, they too basked in columns of light; there was an extra unoccupied column as well, the member's absence made more apparent by the illumination. And beyond these eleven faint rays of luminosity was a void of darkness that went on without end, yet was not quite boundless. Such a thing may seem paradoxical, but that is to be expected; like Time, the peculiarity of Space in this vast construct was yet another physical property that could not be properly rationalized by the mind.
That is, of course, save by the dozen who were born of it, and it of them.
When September did not respond to the query, December, who stood on the tallest of the circle's pillars, continued.
"You have been called here – to the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place – to answer for your actions. You have altered the flow of the Great Causal Chain that governs all things due to your inexcusable lack of discipline and judgement. What do you have to say in your defense?"
September was silent for a few moments, then replied, his voice reverberating in the silent, cavernous void beyond.
"I do not know what happened," he said. "As was intended, I positioned myself at the corner of Wallace and Long. There, I waited for the Prime Variable to enter the system so that I could collapse the event to the specified outcome. But then, as I was recording my preliminary observations, a stray dog approached me; I could not have anticipated that it would begin to repeatedly thrust its pelvis against my leg. I attempted to dissuade it from continuing, first with verbal commands, then through physical intervention. But the dog was persistent, and by the time I was able to prevent it from further interrupting my observations, the Prime Variable was already passing by in their vehicle, and it was too late to prevent the resulting collision at the intersection."
"This is not the first time you have failed us," reproached December. "Need we remind you of your previous mishap?"
"But I was able to correct that mistake," noted September. "I saved the Boy at the frozen lake in the year 1985 of their reckoning."
"You were able to prevent the Great Causal Chain from deviating any further than it already had," clarified December. "We have been toiling ever since to attempt to restore the delicate balance you have upset. And now, with your most recent blunder, the Chain is deviating even further from its intended course, and it is unknown whether even we will be able to undo the damage that you have wrought."
September had the presentiment that something unfortunate was about to unfold; but as December continued, the truth of the situation revealed itself as far more grim than he had anticipated.
"You have proven time and time again that you are unfit to carry out the duty with which you have been bestowed. It is regrettable to say this, but you have become a liability."
"What are you saying?" asked September.
"I am saying that you have become a liability."
"No, that is not what I meant," said September. "I was in fact inquiring on the intent behind your message."
"Oh... I see."
Even after uncounted aeons of conscious existence, the subtleties of communication were things they had yet to fully master.
"Yes, well... in any case," resumed December, "we have been deliberating on this matter for some time, and have agreed upon a course of action." He gestured to the rest of his elevated comrades. "The decision is unanimous. In order to increase the probability of succeeding in our endeavors, we have decided to expel you from our ranks and cast you out of the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place. Forever."
Upon the issuing of the verdict, the platforms surrounding September descended into the floor, the beams of light fading away. September found himself reeling from the finality of the verdict as his fellows converged on the rectangular block that was emerging from the ground before him. It too was nondescript, and like all things that took form in this place, it was comprised of the physically-actualized potential of space itself, which they referred to as Matter, Yet Not Matter.
The others gathered around December, who stood on one side of the block, while September stood on the other, staring blankly into space, struggling to compute the implications of the fate that had befallen him.
"Relinquish your Communication Module Device Phone," ordered December, gesturing to the block.
After several moments, and with great reluctance, September placed the square device on the center of the dull, grey mass of Matter, Yet Not Matter, and in the span of precisely 1.618 seconds, the module flickered and disappeared, absorbed directly into the non-local information matrix of the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place.
"And your Binocular Telescopic Looking Gadget," prodded December.
September obliged, still with the same hesitance, placing the collapsible set of binoculars on the surface, only for it to fade away.
"And your Hourglass Clock Display Mechanism."
He placed the simple pocket watch on the block, and it disappeared.
"And your Observation Report Log Records and Associated Pen."
He placed the notebook and pen on the block, and they disappeared.
"And your Plasma Pistol Energy Weapon Gun That Goes Wheeeoooo."
He placed the gun on the block, and it disappeared, and with it, the last of the items he was carrying on his person.
"Now for your briefcase."
November came to retrieve the briefcase that September was carrying before stationing himself at one end of the block. He then opened it and began to remove its contents one by one, passing them on to December, who placed them on the center of the block as they came into his possession. Mission-specific documents and photos, a metallic thermos, moisturizing lotion, a yo-yo, three and a half corn dogs; they all disappeared from sight one after the other.
Last to be addressed the briefcase itself. Upon being placed on the center of the smooth, gloss-less surface, it began to flicker and faze, but did not immediately go away as was expected. They looked at each other, perplexed; a few kicks to the side of the block immediately rectified the problem.
"We will also require your hat," said December.
"My hat?" asked September, stupefied. "But... I am fond of my hat."
"Be that as it may, we must nonetheless insist that you part with it, as it is a symbol representing your affiliation with us."
September slowly removed the fedora from his smooth scalp – the very same fedora that had been with him since he first came to be – and handed it to December. With each personal effect that was confiscated, a portion of his identity was taken away as well; the fading of his beloved hat was the nail in the coffin of this realization. If he was not one of them, then who was he? The thought was highly distressing.
It was at this moment that he decided he didn't like any of this very much; he hoped that there wouldn't be more.
"I'm afraid that there is more," said December.
As he spoke, the block of Matter, Yet Not Matter sunk into the ground, just as another Matter, Yet Not Matter structure emerged some distance behind September, complete with illumination. Sensing the formation of this new structure, September turned; it was a circular pyramid of sorts, with three concentric rings forming steps that led to the fourth and final tier.
"What is this?" he asked, analyzing the unassuming platform, barely five feet in stature.
"In order to minimize any further influence you may have in the unfolding of the Great Causal Chain," explained December, "we must strip you of your power."
September's head swiveled to December. Strip him of his power? How could such a thing possibly be achieved?
"I do not think that this is necessary," protested September. "If you would simply grant me the opportunity to correct my mistake –"
"We have no choice," interrupted December. "You are statistically predisposed to commit further errors, and we can no longer afford to keep you in our company. Escort him to the Power Sucker Thing."
February and July, who happened to be the closest to September, heeded to December's words. To an outsider, December would have most likely seemed like the leader by now; but in reality, his role was more akin to a team captain, merely tasked with making all the official statements and decrees, as well as supervising their operations. He held no more influence than the others, but they always responded to his commands. It was the way things were, and not one of the twelve questioned it, a fact ingrained in their very nature.
And while September was very much opposed to what was currently happening, he could not bring himself to betray his own nature either, and could do nothing more than let July and February lead him arm in arm to the platform in the distance with widened eyes, the rest trailing behind.
February and July released their grip once September was placed in the center of pyramid's top platform. He turned around to see his brethren grouped in a loose semi-circle, watching with dispassionate faces.
"It is unfortunate that things must play out in this manner," said December, speaking for the group. "But please understand that this, as with all the things we do, is only ever in service of That Which We Serve."
As December spoke, something started to rise behind September.
Something big.
He pivoted to see a large figure shaped in the likeness of their kind rising from the ground. And as it rose, its features were gradual revealed. First a bald head, devoid of eyebrows and expression; then, a suited torso with forearms held out, palms upward. It came to rest at the knees, the overhead column of light illuminating a figure thrice their size, staring straight ahead.
The eleven of them craned their necks to gaze at the silent titan.
"Behold," said December, affectless. "The Power Sucker Thing."
September tilted his head, both admiring it and wondering what would happen next when the grey figure's head drooped forward, its unseeing eyes seeing all, piercing September with its gaze. He was so transfixed by its infinitely deep stare that he did not see its arms move in to grab his ankles. He barely had time to look down at his feet before it lifted him off the ground, and September rose into the air upside down, arms dangling limply. As he swayed, he could see his comrades watching him; but he could also see that the platform he previously stood on was morphing into something new. The pyramid was inverting itself, with the top layers sinking down as the outer rings rose and curved, coming to form a long, hollow cylinder.
Then it shook him.
With short, rhythmic movements, the mighty figure shook September up and down. Nothing seemed to be happening at first, and the actual purpose of such an action was coming into question; but in moments, September started to glow, and a fine golden dust began to seep from him, falling gently into the receptacle below.
By this point, September was screaming, though it wasn't really screaming, so much as it was a monotone wail. Were one to witness the event, September would have seemed bored and uninterested, jiggling limply and crying out in the deadpan voice of someone putting minimal effort into faking an orgasm; but in reality, he was terrified, something exacerbated by how he had no concept of the word that is usually employed to describe the foreign and unwelcome sensation that was assailing him.
Slowly, but surely, the energy that gave September his superhuman abilities was literally being shaken out of him. After a full minute of rigorous shaking, the thickness of the glittering dust cloud began to dwindle, until only specks fell from September's body. The grey titan gave September a few last, hard shakes to wring out the last of his power-dust into the receptacle before placing him onto the floor at the side of the cylinder. Following this, the Power Sucker Thing grasped the receptacle – which was, as September could now see, shaped like a cup – and drank the entirety of September's power, downing it in a few silent gulps.
Then the Power Sucker Thing, satiated, wiped the power-dust mustache that had formed on its upper lip with its sleeve before descending into the ground, September's power along with it, both forever lost to the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place.
Following the ritual, the others approached September, who was lying on the floor. The ordeal had been so far removed from his experiences that he had been wailing long after the Power Sucker Thing had dropped him, and he continued to bellow in his toneless voice as his brethren encircled him; though as October and May came and helped him to his feet, his yells diminished to whimpers, then to nothing.
September's head was swimming, and he was having a hard time maintaining his center of balance. With his powers gone, he was terribly disoriented, feeling weak, restricted.
Powerless.
"Now that your power has been stripped, we will proceed to banish you from this place," announced December. "And seeing as an event such as this is unprecedented in the history of our kind, we have decided to banish you in a manner befitting these circumstances."
A gateway leading beyond this place materialized a dozen feet from where they were amassed, and September's colleagues promptly formed two rows leading to the door. December then placed himself at the mouth of these rows, facing September directly before delivering his final words.
"So it is that we, the Servants of That Which We Serve, forevermore cast you out of the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place. You are no longer welcome here, and neither may you ever return. And should you ever attempt to interfere with us or the unfolding of the Great Causal Chain, we will have you terminated without hesitation. Now, go. Leave this place, and never come back."
With that, December went to take his place in the file; at his beckoning, September began walking clumsily into the corridor they formed.
And as he passed December, he was struck square in the ass with a paddle.
He looked back at December, who was now holding a grey paddle formed of Matter, Yet Not Matter.
Then he turned to face the door, only to see the other nine also wielding similar paddles.
With nowhere else to go but forward, September stumbled down the aisle, and his former brethren proceeded to shepherd him along one spank at a time, every one of them uttering the same phrase before they swatted his cheeks.
"Have a nice day."
September tried to brace himself at every inevitable spanking, but he was always caught by surprise, stumbling forward and emitting a dull cry of slight annoyance and pain. By the end of the run, his buttocks were inflamed, and he wrestled with a flurry of unknown emotions elicited by the additional torment he was forced to endure at the hands of those he had known for his entire existence.
And as his hand came to rest on the door's handle, he gave one last glance to his former comrades and to the construct that he had known as home for the last time; they stared back with eyes filled not with malice, but with duty (except for March, who had always been somewhat of a jerk).
Then with eyes lowered to the floor with what he didn't know as shame, he opened the door and exited the Perpetual Halls of the Timeless Forever Place, which January closed behind him with a resounding, ominous boom.
"... Are you alright, Mister September?"
September looked to Brenda, their receptionist, whose traits were line with puzzlement and concern.
"I... I do not know."
The former Servant of That Which He Used To Serve then painfully shuffled his way out of the receptionist's office, taking the elevator from the Richmond Building's seventh floor to its first, all the while wondering what in the hell just happened.
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A/N: It gets funny, I promise. XD
Reviews are welcome!