A/N: Just watched all 7 series of Peep Show online in what, 4 days? Started realising that if I really concentrated, I could think things in the manner of Mark and Jeremy (or so I think!) Was playing FFTA while the videos loaded and the image of Mark as a Nu Mou suddenly came to mind. Thought it was funny, finished watching Peep Show and then the urge to write this insane thing possessed me (sorry Marche, I have corrupted you!). Wrote it all in a span of maybe 6 or 7 hours? Definitely have gone insane.
This is from Mark's POV, with his thoughts in italics. Emphasis of his thoughts are in bold, emphasis elsewhere, such as in speech, is in italics.
Here it is for your perusal: my Peep Show/Final Fantasy Tactics Advance crossover. (For Peep Show fans, terminology is at the bottom)
Rated M for language (oh dear, Super Hans, oh dear), drugs and sexual references. Spoilers for the whole of Peep Show and Final Fantasy Tactics Advance.
Disclaimer: I own neither Peep Show nor Final Fantasy Tactics Advance.
Feeling woozy...feeling very woozy...
"Mark? Mark? Are you awake yet? Mark?" Something kicking me...familiar, slightly irritating voice... "...Mark? Is that you?" Mark Corrigan finally opened his eyes to realise that he wasn't looking up at the ceiling in his room. Great, he'd been kidnapped or maybe Jeremy's faithful friend Super Hans had finally sold him for drugs. The sky was blue and it was definitely warmer than the average London day.
"...Jeremy, what's going on?" If Jeremy was here, then maybe everything was alright after all. Super Hans wouldn't sell Jez for crack, right? Shit, Mark remembered with a jolt, Super Hans did actually come back for his crack pipe with some kind of plank weapon. In fact, selling someone for drugs is quite a bit less violent and possibly easier. Especially if they're unconscious... "Where am I? What happened?"
"Now, Mark, no need to panic, nothing's wrong." Jez was using his false-calm 'everything is fucked but let's try and delay the Corrigan meltdown for as long as possible' voice. Not a good sign. "You remember how Super Hans came over last night?"
"Mmhm?" Mark made an inarticulate sound, still staring up at the clouds, not quite sure if he wanted to move yet.
"Well, remember how you were a bit down about Dobby and you were going to have a quiet night in but then you wanted to go over to hers? But then I convinced you not to and we were drinking and then Super Hans came over and we were all drinking?" Mark frowned. It sounds hypothetically possible. Misery loves company, especially if they bring their own alcohol. "So Super Hans didn't just bring over beer. He brought some dope and we might, we, Mark, me and you, us, we might have smoked it." Mark was still frowning. Still...possible, I guess. There was that time at my party with the...with the plastic bottle. "So after we both smoked the dope, Super Hans may have gotten a tiny bit annoyed that we used up all his supply." Shit, I knew it, Super Hans has sold us both into slavery and everything is fucked.
"What's he done, Jez? He's sold us for crack, hasn't he?" Jeremy didn't reply. What's this silence? I don't like this silence, I don't like it at all-
"No! I mean, he was pretty pissed off, but then I convinced him to just sit down and enjoy the crack that he had on him-" Jez suddenly started to whisper and Mark decided he didn't like it at all, "-and then as payback he might have slipped shrooms into our drinks-"
"Shit!" Mark swore. "He's drugged us and dumped us god knows where-"
"Ah, but Mark, that's the thing." Jez cut him off triumphantly. Oh shit, what's the thing? He hasn't left us in the middle of god knows where to die? Or he has? "I think we may still be tripping." Mark sat up quickly and his left hand automatically moved to his stomach. Still feeling woozy. Best not to make any sudden moves. Sitting up allowed him to see the world around him. The buildings that surrounded him were not the typical Croydon flats and houses. Can't tell whether these houses look less out of place in The Phantom Menace or maybe Egypt. They were single-storey and not made of any bricks that Mark could see. The street underneath him was cobbled and he looked around. The first thing he spotted was a blonde-haired boy looking at him from afar. Of course, I'm tripping in my own bizarre hallucination and there are still hoodlums here. Perfect. Classic Corrigan. Before he could move away from the youth, a very large figure came from the right and knelt before him, helmet under arm. Wait, helmet? "Check it out, Mark!"
"Shit!" Mark swore again as the large lizard-creature with strangely long ears grinned savagely at him and tried to crawl away backwards.
"No wait Mark, it's me, Jez! Look!" Great. Jez has turned into a large crocodile-man. I'm sure this is what the 'shrooms' are all about. The lizard-creature put his helmet down and chatted away inanely. "I woke up ages ago and the kid over there told me I was a banger. I think we bonded."
"A banger?" Mark was tempted to call it quits and go back to sleep.
"Yeah, he says it's what I am. He says it's a lizard but I think we all know exactly what it means." The lizard-man that was Jez made a crude gesture and Mark rolled his eyes. "So anyway, have you looked in a mirror lately?" Jez sounds smug. Why is Jez smug? If Jez is smug, I should be very, very worried.
"No, you imbecile, I have just woken up!" Jez-lizard suddenly stood up and drew a sword. What the- who let him have a sword? Swords aren't playthings! He'll hurt himself trying to, I don't know, make a sandwich and chop bread with it! Don't wave it at me, oh god, don't point it at me- Jez stabbed it down into the floor and the reflective blade stopped opposite Mark.
"OK, you are going to love this, look at the sword." Jez now spoke with badly-hidden glee and Mark stared at the surface of the sword. He looked again. He looked for a third time and waved at it. I have turned into a dog. A podgy dog...not a lot different physically... why does Jez get to be a tall, physically muscular 'banger', whatever that is? Mark stood up and looked down at his clothes. "And the best bit is you're in a dress!" Jez cracked up, laughing heavily. A dog in a dress. This is like some sick Coolidge painting. Mark was wearing green and white robes that resembled a dress. Surely this is too unfair to be real?
"Is this usually what happens when you have your 'shroom parties', Jez?" Mark asked, hoping it wasn't. Jez shrugged and a thought occurred to Mark. "How...how can this be scientifically possible? We can't be having the same trip, right? Unless, I suppose, you told me what you were seeing and somehow my imagination replicated it..." He started to ramble and Jez shook his head pityingly, great ears flopping from side to side.
"Oh Mark. Mark, Mark, Mark. The ways of the great shrooms are unknown to you." Mark's hackles rose at the patronising pity but before he could snap at Jez, his flatmate added, amused, "Anyway, I dunno, go ask Super Hans." Super Hans? What? He's tripping too-? Oh, of course, this all adds up now. Super Hans, in a flash of brilliant insight, decides to 'shroom' us or whatever the word is now as payback. But of course the crack maniac can't resist any kind of drug so he 'shrooms' himself! Brilliant, Super Hans, brilliant. Who's going to call the ambulance now?Mark's thoughts were dripping in sarcasm. He followed Jez-lizard over to a small, fluffy form lying prone.
"...fuck that, I'm the keyboard player in this outfit..." It mumbled in a voice that did not suit the sheer fluffiness of the body it possessed at all. "...you want the knack? Smoke crack..." Alright, this is definitely Super Hans. Mark sighed. Jez kicked it none too gently and it uncurled swiftly, "Fuck off!" It stood up and Mark's eyes widened as he stared. Before him was an extremely short cat-thing with strangely long ears.
"S-super Hans?" Jez asked in a strained voice and the cat looked up at him.
"Oh. Alright Jez? How were the shrooms?" Super Hans answered as if nothing had ever happened. Mark looked at Jez-lizard and Jez-lizard looked back at Mark. They both then burst out laughing uncontrollably. "What are you laughing at? What is so funny?" Super Hans demanded irritably and Jez hurried over to his sword, using it as a mirror and Super Hans frowned, glaring at his reflecting. "This is the last fucking time we do shrooms and wine. Got it?"
"...Got it." Jez finally managed to stop laughing. Mark stopped suddenly, sobered by his thoughts. Super Hans is seeing the same thing too?
"Super Hans, are you having the same trip too?" He asked, concerned and the cat replied waspishly,
"If you mean am I a fucking two-foot cat with rabbit ears and am I looking at a fat dog in a dress and has Jez has turned into fucking Godzilla, then yes." Before Mark could ask what the hell was going on, Jez interrupted.
"I'm a banger, actually." He spoke primly, correcting his bandmate. As he and Super Hans got into an argument about bangers and how being a lizard meant that sex was probably off the agenda for now, Mark wandered away tiredly, almost bumping into the blonde youth. Please don't stab me, if you're going to do anything just rob me please. I have insurance for that kind of thing. The youth looked at him and Mark realised they were about the same height.
"Are you alright?" OK, so the hooligan probably wasn't a hooligan. He doesn't sound like those street rats that burgled us and the little shits that hassled me and...Jesus, if anyone knew just how much trouble people half my age have been giving me...
"Uh...yes. N-no. Can you tell me something?" Mark asked awkwardly and the boy looked at him expectantly. "Am I..." He swallowed. "That is to say, do I look like a dog in a dress." He stammered quickly and the boy smiled, seeming surprised. Great. I don't think he's going to mug me.
"You're a Nu Mou. That's your race." Mark frowned, confused. Is this like Jez being a banger?
"Right, exactly. So, I'm a moo-moo, my friend Jeremy over there is a banger and...um, the...uh, you know. The...vertically challenged cat-man?" Great, now he's laughing at me. Mark was suddenly struck by a disturbing thought. Oh God, what happens if my son grows up to be a hoodlum? I don't think I could live with myself. Or him. Or Sophie.
"A moogle. Is something wrong?" Right. It's one of THOSE situations. Where I'm supposed to be something I am most definitely not. I've clearly already fucked it up if I don't know my own race... "You...aren't from around here, are you?" The boy asked and Mark broke down.
"Alright, you've got me bang to rights, you have guessed correctly. My friends and I over there were-" Being alcoholics and partaking in the illegal consuming of subtances- "-'hanging out' the other night and we...we woke up here and I thought-" My idiot flatmate's crack-addicted bandmate had sold us to someone for more crack "-we had eaten something bad and were seeing things but we're all here. What is going on?" The boy oddly seemed entirely unfazed.
"Where are you from?" Mark saw no reason to lie.
"Croydon. You know, in London." The boy's eyes lit up.
"As in England?" Mark nodded. No, Croydon of the sodding Republic of...I don't know, Swazi...land. "I'm Marche. From a mountain village in France. We are currently in Ivalice. The world of Ivalice." If Johnson were here, he'd probably say 'This is bollocks, Marche!', slap the kid and then insist that we return to 'the real business world' or something. "It's strange, I know, but this is a world from a video game-" Oh shit. Please don't be Grand Theft Auto, dear god, please don't be Grand Theft Auto- "-called Final Fantasy-" Oh, I've heard of that one. "-and somehow I ended up in the game. And it looks like you and your friends did too. Would you like to join my clan?" That sounds pretty good. Never been in a gang before. Oh.
"This- this isn't a gang, is it? As in turf wars and drive-bys and popping caps in people's-" He's just a youth, better not corrupt him. Mark enquired before stopping himself from saying a not particularly offensive word.
"Well, not exactly. There are turf wars and we are a group of people like a gang, but it's really quite different." Mark's stomach began to sink. Everything is fucked.
Mark had to coerce Jez-lizard into kicking Super Hans every time he swore for about fifteen minutes before he felt that they could talk to Marche further. After a hilarious incident in which Jez underestimated his lizard strength and punted Super Hans about five metres in the air and everyone noticed that Super Hans had weird little bat wings, Mark checked that Super Hans was censoring himself adequately. Then they followed Marche to the nearest tavern (to Jez's delight) while he explained everything to them in detail.
Super Hans sat on a rather tall bar stool, looking ridiculous with an alcoholic drink in hand next to Jez-lizard.
"This would make a great song, it would." Super Hans commented and Jez nodded sagely. Mark shuffled over to them.
"Um, Super Hans, excuse me...are we going to stop tripping any time soon?" Super Hans shrugged laconically.
"I dunno, I did use up all the shrooms I had, and I had a fucking massive pile of 'em." He used the opportunity to swear as Marche was otherwise occupied elsewhere with the rest of his 'clan'.
"Shit." Mark despaired and left the pair to drink at the bar.
"Hello, my name is Jez and I'd like to bangaa you- fuck! She stabbed me!" Jez's yells carried across the battlefield. "I winked at her and she fucking stabbed me!"
"Sorry, sorry." Mark apologised for the language. "Sorry, Marche, I'm afraid the other two are rather limited in their vocabulary." Marche nodded, giving him a look of scandalised sympathy and Mark winced. Super Hans, who was atop a rock several metres away from Jez, shouted back,
"You shithead, she's on the other team, isn't she! She's trying to fucking kill you and you're trying to do her! If you used that chat up line on me I'd want to stab you!" He then acted so quickly that Mark could barely follow his actions, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at a particularly burly lizard that was advancing on him, pulling the trigger and being rewarded as it crumpled. Oh god he's dead Super Hans has shot someone we're going to be pulled aside for murder why hasn't the judge done anything- why has the judge given him a 'point'? This isn't how Crown Court works! Mark went into meltdown, panicking. Jez's cries echoed.
"Ow- fuck! Stop- ow- pointing- that- ow- thing at- ow- me!" He was being prodded to death by a rather sharp rapier.
"Stop being a fucking player and cut her with your sword Jez!" Super Hans shouted some 'encouragement' and Jez took vital time to turn and reply, clearly offended by the suggestion.
"It's nothing to do with being a 'player', as you put it! Super Hans, didn't you ever learn that you don't hit women? It's domestic abuse!" Super Hans swore under his breath liberally and then shot at her a few times, rewarded by the strange woman dodging all his shots.
"Fuckin' 'ell! Jez, shut up and go carve someone else up! Mark, what are you doing standing there like a fucking lemon? Do something already!" Mark was startled out of inactivity. Alright, Corrigan, time to perform. What was it Marche said? I do magic. Right. This is Stalingrad and I am Stalin- no, no it isn't. No guns- well except for Super Hans' BB Gun. Concentrate, Mark! This is...I know. This is Dungeons and Dragons and I am Vardor, except instead of smiting undead and healing for d4 plus two I am somehow smiting the enemy. Wait, but Vardor needed to say some kind of prayer to his chosen deity for a focus and-
"I'm bleeding here!" Jeremy shouted petulantly and Mark lost his trail of thought. Fuck! In his irritance he raised his staff that he'd been clutching in a white-knuckle grip and it glowed. Everything around him blazed with the fire of ten volcanoes or like an insane solar flare that is somehow localised and has no effect on allied units, just like when you make sure Friendly Fire is turned off in Medal of Honour.
"Good job, Mark!" Super Hans praised him as the not-human woman who'd been poking Jez-lizard to death fell on the ground, unmoving. Good God, that was something else...that was amazing! Fuck Stalingrad and the Wehrmacht, fuck the Luftwaffe, I am the king of the battlefield! Mark laughed madly, doing it again and again as many times as he could, varying between the fire, large thunderstorms and inhuman blizzards. Finally he felt very tired and sank to his knees, still cackling maniacally.
"Wow, Mark, you really fried them. You really fried them good." Jez observed and Mark didn't even snap at him for the childish observation. He merely grinned like a madman until he noticed the state of Jez.
"Jez, mate, are you OK?" Jez-lizard was covered in puncture marks and was bleeding from a terrible gash to his arm. Good thing he was wearing armour. It vaguely resembles gladiator armour, except it's somewhat historically inaccurate as we all know that hoplomachi tended to wield shields, spears and short swords, not broadswords- shit, what am I doing? Jez is hurt!
"Well, now that you mention it, I do feel kind of light-headed- oh God look at the blood! It's awful, it's horrendous, I'm going to lose my arm, I-!" Jez lost it when he saw his arm and panicked until the judge raised a gauntleted hand and suddenly everyone was healed and the dead people were alive again. That's impossible! How...how? Mark thought incoherently.
"Yeah good match everyone, good match." Super Hans addressed the team and then started detailing how the tactics could be improved upon. Jez, who had got over his injury extremely quickly, jogged over to Super Hans.
"Super Hans, do you have a gun?" He sounds like a child on Christmas Day- no, this is Jeremy we're talking about. He sounds like Jeremy on Christmas Day. Super Hans looked down at him suspiciously.
"And what's it to you?" Jez suddenly picked him up and held him out at arm's length, much like Mark would hold his son if the baby was performing urinary functions or worse.
"Please Super Hans can I see the gun? Can I touch it? Can I hold it?" Super Hans kicked and squirmed and swore at him until an agreement was reached and Jez let Super Hans down gently before being given the gun for a short, pre-arranged period of time.
"Look Mark! I've got Gunny! It's Gunny!" Jez waved it around and reminded Mark of the...escapades with his deceased aunt's or great-aunt's war gun, he couldn't remember exactly which. After a little while longer, Jez had to give it back to the two-foot tall cat turning the air blue. Meanwhile, Marche was shaking hands with the leader of the other clan and agreeing on spoils as the losers handed over some money. Suddenly Jez was standing next to his female nemesis.
"Look, about earlier, it was just, you know, the testosterone speaking, heat of battle and all that. Of course we would get to know each other before anything happened. It's just, like I said, the battle and the testosterone and the fact is that I'm a sexual being, and I hope you could handle that. What's your number?" Great. We are tripping off our faces right now or whatever it's called and Jez is chatting up a...what is that? Whatever it is, it's not human and it wanted to kill Jez two minutes ago.
"We don't have phones here, Jez!" Mark shouted. Jez stomped over to him, which was in truth rather imposing due to his stature, and hissed,
"Shut up Mark, don't fuck this up for me. Go find your own attractive rabbit-woman." Then he was back at her side. She looked both baffled and annoyed.
"Sorry about that. What I mean is, I'd like to go for a drink with you. Are you busy now?"
"...What's 'testosterone' and what are you doing?" She asked and Jez looked at her, tilting his head in confusion. "Oh, come on, I'm from Clan Dip! We're your arch-rivals! We don't go to the tavern together after you tear us apart!" Jez took this in his stride.
"Hey, hey, that's no problem. I'm asking in a personal capacity," He stated as if it was obvious. "And I'd just like to state that you are, well, bloody good at this fighting business. If it wasn't for Mark over there, you definitely, one hundred percent would have killed me." Her demeanour changed slowly.
"Really? You think so?"
"Oh, yes, I definitely think that you could have beaten me at this, maybe even with one hand tied behind your back." Typical Jez, saying any bullshit that comes to mind just to bed a woman. You like pre-nineteenth century history? That's great, so do I! Poems? You like poems? Here's one I wrote earlier! Arthur Miller? We should go see one of his plays together! Mark seethed with injustice as the woman leaned in and whispered something to Jez. And the bloody worst part is it works almost every time!
Mark and Super Hans drank their pints in silence, eyeing Jez and the not-human woman sat at the other end of the tavern. Super Hans had just professed that 'this battling shit' was almost as addictive as crack to him and he enjoyed the adrenalin rush. Without really knowing what to say to him, Mark had just nodded awkwardly and they had descended together into the awkward silence that was so familiar to Mark in everyday life. When Mark had tried "Isn't it difficult though, battling in...you know...your..condition?", Super Hans had taken it as an insult and pointed out that despite being a talking cat, he could "fuck people up" and height was "bullshit". Thus they had nothing further to say to each other. Jez and the woman seemed to be getting on very well until the other inhabitants of the tavern had coincidentally fallen quiet just in time to catch Jez saying,
"Well, do your people, you know, do it like rabbits?" His cheeky grin faded as she slapped him and stormed out. Brilliant, Jez, brilliant. Jez wandered over sullenly and Mark decided to lord his failure over him a tad bitterly,
"Great job Jez, casual racism and crude sexual innuendo in one go, you really are attaining new heights!" Jez-lizard merely muttered something about 'no sense of humour' and proceeded to steal Super Hans' drink, batting the moogle-man away easily and shoving him off his stool to steal the seat too. Eventually they started a conversation and it turned to their situation.
"Well, lads, if we are stuck here, might as well enjoy the rest of it. It's better than being in a coma and if we're just having a really long trip, we'll wake up in your lounge eventually. Not in puddles of our own piss if we're really lucky." Super Hans pointed out, clearly not worried about the implications of his words. God. We could be in comas. They say sometimes coma patients dream. None of this could even be real...great, now I'm enjoying my coma dream more then real life. This is desperately sad. Mark lamented. Well, at least Jeff isn't here to laugh at any of this. Then he felt vicious. And if Jeff were here, I would blast the everliving shit out of him.
"You know what, Super Hans? You're right. We may be, I don't know, hooked up to life support or passed out in our own vomit all over the lovely carpet or, god forbid, on the creamy elephant, but we'll, we'll damn well make a go of this!" Mark tried to rally his spirits.
"To Ivalice!" Jez cheered, holding up the stolen pint and they clinked pint glasses.
"Fuckin' 'ell lads, that was horrible. Worse than the time I did the Windsor run again only this time on crack and when I got there I got all paranoid and thought everyone walking around wanted to chop my nuts off." Super Hans declared, matter-of-fact and then thanked Mark, "Cheers for the remedy potion or whatever it was...it was pretty moreish." Mark grabbed Jez's elbow and drew him in, hissing in his ear,
"We cannot let Super Hans get addicted to those Maiden's Kiss potions!" Jez went to make a witty in his mind opinion and Mark stamped on his foot.
"Ow! OK, OK, calm down Mark." Jeremy then attempted to scold him as if the lizard-man was a parent. "Now now, Super Hans, those things are expensive so you can't go and keep getting turned into a frog." Super Hans grumbled about it but didn't protest as they went to turn in proof that they'd just dealt with the lamias plaguing nearby inhabitants of the city. Lamias. The only female life form that even Jez won't attempt to hump. "Glad that's over." Jez-lizard shuddered. "Hate hate hate those things. They sing all sweetly and pretend that they're just cool, you know, hanging out in your back garden at three in the morning doing karaoke with each other, but get closer and you see their true forms, you realise the truth. They're like twisted harpies who just want to make you suffer once they reel you in...hey, just like Soph-"
"Finish that thought and I will shove my staff so far up your arse you will be spitting it out." Mark snarled and Jeremy realised he might just have crossed the line. As they walked briskly back to civilisation, there was silence until Jeremy couldn't resist commenting.
"You want to shove your staff up my arse? Mark, I know we're best friends and that we've lived together for a while, but I don't feel like I can handle that kind of relationship-"
"Shut. Up." Mark snapped and the journey was silent once again.
"Oh yeah? What about that time when we was on the dope and we both suc-"
"No Super Hans, I am sure I have no idea what you are talking about." Jeremy cut him off urgently and Mark frowned. ...No, I don't even want to ask.
They arrived back in whatever city they'd woken up in all that time ago and gave the mission requester proof that they'd rid his hometown of the lamias.
"Thank you so much! My son had not been in his right mind ever since marrying that snake masquerading as a girl!" The man was grateful and Jeremy, despite his earlier bad behaviour, couldn't help but ask.
"Sorry, what did you say your daughter-in-law, well, ex-daughter-in-law that was actually a lamia was called?"
"Her name was Sophie." Mark gave Jeremy the worst death glare that Jez had ever seen in all the years of being friends with and living with the man. After the mission was wrapped up properly and they were in the tavern again, with Super Hans trying to chat up some other small cat-people, Jeremy finally broke the silence.
"Sorry. But Mark, isn't it funny? The mission, he called it 'Cursed Bride' and it happened to be about a wedding that made everything go down the shitter for the husband and..." He trailed off under Mark's glare. It was several rounds of beer before Mark forgave him.
"You know it's awfully funny, Jeremy. The whole, entire thing." Jez looked hopeful.
"So you actually agree?" Mark nodded. Possibly, probably going to regret agreeing with Jez.
"You know, it's funny. If what Marche said was true and everything has turned into game land, maybe everyone else is here. Maybe that really was Sophie. Who was that woman who turned you down way back when, you know, slapped you when you got racist?" Jeremy winced as he remembered it,
"Never got her name." Mark laughed, almost sliding off his stool,
"No wonder it all went to shit, you never even got her name!" Then he remembered his point before Jez started looking too much like a kicked crocodile, "That could have been Big Suze or even Nancy. Remember? Marche said that everyone else here was people too, they just don't remember having a pint in the local or going down the off-license for cheap booze!" Jez nodded, gears evidently turning slowly in his head.
"Yeah...so, we've cleared the air?"
"Oh yes, I suppose so." Mark agreed amicably.
"What the fuck? You're telling me they're trying to arrest a random cat-man and rabbit-woman just because the kid was seen with them? That's racism, that is! That's racial profiling!" Super Hans shouted as the argument intensified. He refused to call Marche by his name, not accepting the 'little shit' as his 'boss'.
"Super Hans, what do you know about racial profiling?" Mark asked wearily.
"I'll have you know that I was once stopped in Dusseldorf, me, an Englishman!" He replied righteously and Mark pointed out,
"But I expect that was for drugs, wasn't it, Super Hans, and 'English' isn't a race." Before Super Hans could reply with any abuse, Marche decided.
"Alright, we can't let the palace arrest innocent moogles and viera and keep them in prison for who knows how long! Let's fight!" Viera. Panasonic Viera. Wasn't that the make of the HD-ready TV that Super Hans smashed? Mark mused, his mind not on the impending battle.
They charged and Mark reflected that Muscadet was really a very nice place and that the delights of the English garden just didn't seem quite the same now he'd seen this treetop city. To his surprise, while the moogle they'd saved scarpered, the rabbit-woman that was a native of the city fought alongside them and as a menacing lizard thrust his spear at her, Mark used his recently-learnt magic skills to aim a single bolt of lightning at the lizard, dropping him where he stood.
"Thanks!" The rabbit-woman was grateful and as she stabbed another palace guard, Mark found himself looking at a viera close up for the first time. She was a fencer, like the one that had tried to stab Jez to death at the start of this shroom trip and she moved terribly nimbly, gracefully twirling to avoid being impaled on spears. She was tall and slim with wonderful legs and Mark realised he was staring. I think she might be The One... He couldn't stop himself from thinking, in utter awe. Finally they dispatched the opposing force and as they arrested Marche, Mark realised they'd probably get the rest of the people involved in the brawl too. Before the viera could disappear off into her hometown, he asked desperately,
"Wait! If I saved you, you could at least tell me your name!" The viera looked down at him and smiled, becoming even more beautiful.
"You're gonna laugh." She spoke self-deprecatingly and Mark frowned. Well yes, Mark, it's only logical that even if all viera are as beautiful as this, there will be the social outcasts too. What else has life taught you? "My friends call me...Dobby." Mark's eyes widened and he didn't even notice the lizard-man marching towards him.
"Dobby! Dobby? Really?" The viera seemed to shrink in on herself somehow, becoming less confident.
"Yes, that's my nickname. I know I'm hardly a Carolina or a Cecilia, but not all viera have poncy names." As the lizard-man appeared behind Mark and the viera opposite him turned to run, he shouted,
"No, you don't understand, Dobby!" She paused and Mark knew he had to make it count, "Why don't you tell them your real name, everyone who laughs at you! Tell them you're Debbie!" Her eyes widened and she froze.
"...What? How did you..." Please oh god don't let this be a cruel cruel joke on the part of the drugs that may or may not be keeping us in a coma or unconscious!
"Dobby, listen! I don't have time!" The lizard-man grabbed him and he struggled. "You might not even be real, you might be part of a sick and twisted hallucination due to some magic mushroom-laced wine, but if this is real-" The lizard-man punched him. Ow, that bloody hurt! Come along quietly, my arse! This is police brutality!
"What are you saying? How do you know my real name? Who are you?" Dobby seemed almost afraid. The lizard-man dragged him away and he shouted,
"You make the most beautiful viera I've seen! And I've seen a lot!" Shit! Come on Mark, got to tell Dobby you are Mark Corrigan before you get hauled off to the gulag and possibly executed! Why can't you even do that? Oh, I know, I know indeed. You're trying to go for a romantic and surprising reveal but- ow, shit! He's beating me up! He's oppressing me! I will not come quietly, damn you! No time to do that. "It's Mark Corrigan! JLB! IT! Fantasy Warquest!" That's right, Corrigan, shout buzzwords like a maniac, I think you might just have got your point across!
"Jesus, Mark, you're really here? And you're a nu mou and you're getting arrested..." Podge...not...keeping guard occupied...for long enough...must struggle more... Mark had been fighting keenly against the guard and standing his ground but even his weight wasn't helping and as he tried to claw his way back to Dobby, she just looked at him. "Wow, Mark, this is crazy. This is brilliant! Why are you getting arrested?" Guard...getting upper hand...must finish conversation with dramatic flair...
"Tell me, have you ever heard of Clan Nutsy?" Dobby didn't reply. "Well, you will do!" Mark managed as the lizard-man wrenched him away for once and for all and hauled him off.
Super Hans sat in the cell dully.
"Fuck. I could really, really, really do with some crack right now." Jeremy shrugged.
"I don't think crack exists here, Super Hans." Mark was staring up at the dank ceiling as if in a trance. "Hey, Super Hans, do you think Mark might be, you know, coming out of the trip?" Jeremy looked at Mark, concerned.
"Nah, Jez, don't panic, he ain't gonna finish before we do. He's in love, look at him." Super Hans pointed at Mark. Jeremy stared at his flatmate for at least five minutes before asking,
"Are you in love, Mark?" Mark turned to him.
"I always thought Dobby was the One, didn't I tell you that? How we both love the same things and she doesn't want me for babies or money and how I always want to chew on her weird hair-"
"Alright, alright, enough about your hair fetish Mark, what has this got to do with anything?" Mark gazed at Jez-lizard, eyes glazed over.
"I met Dobby. Here. Really. She was the one who almost got arrested." Super Hans nodded approvingly, ears twitching.
"That's what we call true love, that is, taking the rap for what your woman does and if you do get arrested, she just thinks you're her hero." Mark snapped out of it a bit, seeing Jeremy wanting to ask Super Hans whether that was a real life story,
"She didn't do anything! Remember, you said it was all racial profiling?" He reminded Super Hans. Wonder what Dobby is doing now. Maybe she's having an engagement with another clan. Maybe she's stabbing the shit out of someone. Maybe Gerard is here too and they haven't recognised one another and she's stabbing the shit out of him. That would be great...
"He's out of it, Jez. Best leave him to his little fantasies." Mark was too lost in his imagination to take Super Hans to task for the implications of what he'd just said.
"But, Super Hans, you said we were all tripping together and that whatever that 'blonde shithouse' said about being in another world was all lies...how can Dobby be here?" Jeremy used air quotes to use Super Hans' own phrase and seemed genuinely troubled. Super Hans shrugged.
"I don't fucking know, do I? We're all seriously tripping out here. Did anyone else see Dobby?" Jeremy shook his head silently, looking down at his feet. "Well then, you've got your answer." After a long silence, Super Hans cracked. "I've fucking had it with this! No crack, stuck in shitty prison, I've seen nicer prisons than this for murderers! Let's break out. Let's do it." Jeremy nodded.
"Fuck yeah! Let's do it!" Mark turned to look at them.
"And how may I ask are we going to get out of here?" Super Hans drew his gun and Mark flinched. "Shit!"
"You've still got Gunny?" Jeremy sounded once again like himself on Christmas Day. "That's great! I don't know how you managed to sneak it in here, but great job Super Hans!"
"Yes, it's great-" Mark's voice cut through Jeremy's enthusiasm, "-but a gun can't dig through stone and help us with The Great Escape mark two." Nobody replied and after a moment, Super Hans wilted.
"Thanks Mark, for fucking raining on my parade." He replied irritably and sat back down. Approximately half an hour later they were free to go and Super Hans repeatedly assured Jeremy and Mark, "I knew we'd be out soon enough. No need to go fucking mental, right? I knew we'd be out." Yes, Super Hans, and Czechoslovakia knew Hitler was going to invade after his little promise not to.
"So if we fight this crazy bitch, we go back to how it all was?" Super Hans asked in disbelief and Marche nodded.
"Super Hans, you can't keep saying that about every woman we fight!" Jeremy objected. Jeremy Usborne, ever the chivalrous defender of women. Ha ha, I am laughing at the overwhelming bullshit of this statement. "Marche's friend was only doing what she thought was right!" Mark leaned over and whispered to Jeremy,
"Jeremy, you realise that pink-haired girl can't be more than fourteen?" Jeremy, to his credit, replied instantly,
"Yeah whatever, I don't care about her, but her rabbit-woman friend was what is known in some circles as 'bang tidy'." Oh God. Bang tidy? Has Jez been watching Celebrity Big Brother again?
"Yeah, well, maybe I'm sick of this bullshit. Mr. Blondie over there says 'destroy the crystals and we can go home', then it's 'tell everyone this world doesn't exist and we can go home' and now it's 'kill the Queen of the world and we can go home'. I'm sick of the goalposts being moved!" Super Hans was outraged.
"Come on Super Hans, let's go already! Nobody takes me seriously here!" Super Hans laughed.
"Yeah, the rabbit-women are too pure for your innuendos, I haven't seen a single female lizard since we got here, you'd crush a moggle or whatever I am, you're too wild for humans and really, crocodile-dog sex? Some banger you are! Going home because he can't bang anyone!" He retorted.
"Super Hans!" Jeremy was scandalised. "You can't call me a lizard, that's terrible! That's extremely racist! I'm a bangaa!" Sure, Jez, you MASSIVE HYPOCRITE.
"Yeah, well, sorry, but you are, mate." Super Hans was suitably cowed in the presence of both Jez-lizard and the other bangaa in the clan. "Sorry." He added when the most threatening one in the clan loomed suddenly.
Despite the Queen's most terrifying efforts to defeat Marche and the clan, they managed to knock her out and a young boy appeared.
"Who's that nancy boy?" Super Hans expressed his distaste for the boy's appearance.
"Um. Super Hans, I think that might be Marche's other best friend and the reason we can't go home." Mark commented and Super Hans fell silent.
"Oh." He managed before shutting his mouth. The trio watched as Marche tried to convince the boy that they should all go home. The boy seemed really hesitant to listen. Mark stepped forwards, Well, it's worth a try.
"Listen, you, Marche's friend, you aren't the only one with not the greatest life! Take me for instance! I wake up each day in a storm of self-loathing and I have a job that isn't going anywhere, idiots for colleagues, I have a woman who is using me and I can't escape her or her evil family, I can never keep a girlfriend and because your stupid father arrested me, I never saw the One (that's right, the woman I really, really like) again after meeting her minutes before I was hauled away! By your guards who, may I add, were extremely violent and this kind of physical oppression of people, especially people found innocent, would be exposed and there would be inquests, proper inquests about this!"
"Er, Mark, I think you might have overdone it a bit there..." Jeremy pointed out in hushed tones.
"Maybe I don't bloody care! What I'm saying, Marche's friend, is that I think the real world is a load of balls but I'm not scared to go back, so why should you be?" Mark shouted and then stepped back, satisfied. Turns out that getting in life-or-death fights a few times, getting arrested once and blasting your enemies with more firepower than the RAF bombing Dresden gives you no small amount of courage. This is great. Life is pretty great-
"Mark. Just...uh, thought you should remember that the kid's life sucks because his mother is dead, his dad is an alcoholic and unlike Super Hans, can't function in day-to-day life and bullies make his life hell every day at school without fail..." Jeremy pulled Mark aside. ...and now I feel like shit. Sorry Marche's friend. I am a terrible person. A terrible, terrible person.
"Shit, lads, no time for sob story competitions, the crazy bitch is back!" Super Hans wheeled around and announced.
"Super Hans, for the last time, don't call- shit! She is a crazy bitch!" Jeremy scolded Super Hans but changed his mind immediately upon seeing the glowing blue being appearing before everyone and then summoning massive purple versions of the terrifying monsters they'd had to fight at the crystals. They fought fiercely and Mark found his mind wandering as he cast his spells of destruction. Actually, it could have been worse. Jez could have said something even more inappropriate, like 'Oh wow, she may be crazy and you're not supposed to stick your dick in crazy, but she's pretty hot for being a blue representation of everyone's wishes for this world to exist.' ...God, why can I imagine Jeremy's thoughts so vividly? This is wrong! As the battle heated up, the tables turning, he found himself feeling wistful. I wish I'd found Dobby again. I looked really, really hard as well. Really tried to find her. She would have been amazing. She could have joined our clan and it'd be Mark and Dobby, fighting side by side. It'd have been better than that stupid Fantasy Warquest.
Marche eventually struck the final blow and slowly, painfully slowly, the world began to change. Mark walked up to Marche as he felt his body changing and he made his farewell.
"Well, I guess this is it. I'm sorry about the language of my companions...I'd hope that, well, you'd heard it all before." He then laughed painfully awkwardly. "Um, study hard!" Inspiring, Corrigan, really inspiring. "And I hope your friend is alright." Oh yes, you really conveyed your concern well there. Damn it, got to get this goodbye right before everything disappears. Imagine I am talking to future version of son... "I know life is hard, even for you whippersnappers, but I hope that together you can overcome your difficulties and be there for each other when needed. Thank you for helping me and Jeremy and Super Hans out back at the beginning. We would have been lost without you. Well, goodbye." Mark patted him on the head a few times. Ugh, whippersnappers? What is this, the 1940s? Well, you did the job, Corrigan. You managed to get it right, more or less. To his surprise Marche replied.
"Um, don't worry about the language thing." He blushed slightly. "And thank you, Mark. Without your backup we'd have lost a lot of battles. And Jeremy, Jeremy really helped out too. And Super Hans was magnificent with his tactics! I don't think we'll ever meet again, but hopefully we'll always be friends." Marche shook his hand. He always stumbled over the name in the beginning. Super...Hans. I suppose that it is a rather strange name. As the world itself began to vanish before his eyes, Mark found that he was surprised. Surprised that they'd managed to get on with a teenager who was effectively bossing them around and getting them into and out of precarious situations. Well Mark, this is what happens when you live a little. Strange, strange things, but great experiences. Pity you can't put this on your CV. Mark slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. Great, Mark. It's your last few seconds in a world that, for all intents and purposes, is better and much more fun than Fantasy Warquest or Dungeons and Dragons and you're thinking about your CV. Your CV.
"Oi, Mark! Come over here!" Super Hans beckoned him and he hurried over to where Super Hans and Jeremy were standing.
"Super Hans! You're tall again!" Mark couldn't help but remark. Jeremy nodded, a twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah, look Mark, you're- oh wait, you're the same width as before!" Super Hans chuckled and Jeremy laughed and Mark glowered at the pair and looked down. Am in normal clothing. Am no longer dog. Hope that a grown man patting a teenager on the head didn't look weird in any way.
"Alright lads, it's been fun shooting the shit with you both literally and metaphorically, but looks like we're out of here. Same amount of shrooms next weekend?" Before Mark could forcefully turn down Super Hans' offer or prevent Jeremy from accepting excitedly, everything went dark.
Mark's eyes snapped open and he was looking up at a dark ceiling in a darkened room. He rolled over and noticed his alarm clock. Three AM. Was this all a completely mad dream? Maybe it was. Maybe we drank the wine, accidentally imbibed the shrooms somehow and simply tripped a bit and went to bed, and then when we were asleep that's when it all kicked off. God. It was all a dream. A dream. So none of it was real and Jeremy is either passed out on the creamy elephant or the carpet- God, I hope he doesn't piss himself on the carpet OR the creamy elephant. Maybe I should go check on him. Mark got up, noticed he was in his pyjamas and felt disappointed. As he opened the door to his room, Jeremy's bedroom door opened opposite him and Jeremy appeared in old t-shirt and boxers, looking for all the world like Christmas had come early. His excited expression met Mark's raised eyebrows and they looked into each other's eyes.
"It happened."
"It happened!" They both spoke in unison and Jez jumped up and down a few times before hugging Mark. "It happened! See, unless you're psychic or something and you can read my mind, you knew something had happened!" Can't quite understand Jez's babbling. No different from normal life, but- A banging on the door startled them both and Mark rushed to it, answering it and hissing,
"Shh! It's three in the morning, you'll wake the neighbours!" Jeremy ran towards the man who stepped into the flat as Mark closed the door. Hope they don't do a hug like in those romantic films where they run towards each other in slow motion and- oh, their strange fist-bump ritual. Oh. That's alright then. Super Hans strode into the lounge and Jez and Mark followed him. Then the crack-addict turned to them.
"Alright lads. For the purposes of this evening, I am Poirot." No you aren't. Poirot was Belgian. And had a moustache, not a weird goatee. He strode across the floor, pacing back and forth as his brain worked. "Now, as I remember, I drugged you both. Loaded you with shrooms. At that point, Mark was in his special seat and you and me, Jez, were on the sofa. Right?" It's not a special seat. It's just my seat because I always sit in it. And I don't remember.
"Yeah, I remember that!" Jez nodded eagerly.
"Right. And so you two started tripping the fuck out. Mark, you were talking about hair and chewing on it, Jez, you were talking about faces in the wall." Jez's face fell.
"Oh. Why do I get a bad trip and boring old 'I don't do drugs' Mark gets a good trip?" Before Mark could protest, Jeremy added, "See, your hair fetish again! Right, you remember that, Super Hans? See, it was real!"
"Now hold your Horses Watson, I'm the detective here." If you're going to make a metaphor about being a detective, for the love of God don't muddle up your series! I hate that! "So anyway, you were tripping and I was fucking bored so I took the rest of the shrooms. I tripped for a while and then we all stopped tripping." Super Hans punctuated each next word by knocking on the wall he was leaning on between each word. "What happened next?" Mark shrugged.
"Sorry, Super Hans, I was, as you say, 'out of it' the entire time." Jeremy rolled his eyes.
"Alright Mark, we get it. Let me think..." Jeremy, thinking? Ha ha. "...I think...I think we stopped tripping. And we were pretty pissed and you wanted to stay, Super Hans, but Mark said something about no pissing on the creamy elephant. But wait..."
"I remember that, thanks for reminding me." Super Hans nodded.
"Yeah, Mark definitely wanted to send you home in your drunk and vulnerable state." Jeremy nodded resolutely. Jeremy! Curses, betrayed by Jez. Judez. No, that's just silly.
"Thanks, Mark." Super Hans was definitely not grateful. "Anyway, from what I remember...well, I don't remember going home."
"This is definitely jogging my memory, Super Hans!" Why are you so upbeat Jeremy, it's an ungodly hour and I should be asleep. Jeremy was getting increasingly excited. "Yes, I've got it! Super Hans, you passed out on the sofa, possibly on purpose but we may never know. You passed out on the sofa, Mark fell asleep in his seat and I watched TV and then I don't remember anything!" Jeremy finally reached his epic conclusion dramatically. "You," He flung his arm at Mark, "should have woken up in that chair," he swung his arm towards the chair. "You, Super Hans, should have woken up on the creamy elephant." He pointed grandly at the sofa. "And you, Mister TV," He gestured at the TV, stabbing his index finger repeatedly at it, "should still be on!" Really, Jeremy? Really?
"Yeah. I don't know about you, but I woke up in my own bed naked." Super Hans offered his next clue. Oh God. Do not create mental image, do not create mental image. "What about you two?" Super Hans checked.
"I woke up in my bed in this," Jeremy looked down at his outfit.
"Well, I woke up in my bed in my pyjamas and I'm pretty sure that even if I had stumbled to my bedroom, I wouldn't have been able to put my pyjamas on in the state I was in, all that wine..." Mark conceded.
"Well then lads, by decree of Super Hans, it all fucking happened. The lot. Every last bit of it. We weren't just off our fucking faces on shrooms. We actually really went to another world with a stupid name and turned into animals and beat people up and became really famous and rich." Super Hans declared.
"Wow. I was a lizard." Jeremy's eyes became dreamy as he remembered it.
"Well. I suppose so. After all, up until now neither Jeremy nor I mentioned anything about this world, so there's no way you would know about it unless you were actually there too, Super Hans." Mark nodded. Wow. It might have actually happened. Even Logic can't fight off Super Hans here. Wait. Maybe that's actually rather worrying...
"Well after all that hard work deducting things," It's deducing, not deducting. "-I am rather fucking thirsty. Got any wine left?"
Mark sat in the local, beer in hand. Hair of the dog, hair of the dog. So what if it's two in the afternoon? Am I becoming Jeremy?
Suddenly a group of familiar faces entered the pub and sat down a few tables away. Lovely. The JLB Lot. He didn't take stock of who was who and sipped his beer quietly. After raucous conversation on their end and a couple of rounds, they actually noticed him and someone stepped out from the crowd as the others sat back down. Oh fuckity fuck. Bollocks.
"Alright mate? Not too early to be drinking?" I want to punch your face in the face. A smarmy, smug grin of the worst kind appeared on the face of the man standing opposite him. Oh, I'm standing up alright!
"I think you will find it's perfectly acceptable to be drinking after midday." Yes. Now bugger off. Mark stood up. Jeff raised the hand not currently holding a glass as if to placate him.
"Calm down, calm down, mate! I was just wondering what Sophie would think!" Ah yes, the lamia, the woman who lures you in and then marries you and turns into a snake and then BITES you!
"I really don't think she gives a solitary shit, to be completely honest, Jeff." Jeff seemed taken aback. Mark then walked around the table and stood in front of Jeff.
"Whoa there Mark, you missed your son's christening, I think she's pretty pissed off already!" That is it.
"Yes, and if you recall I didn't get to explain why. It was because Jeremy, my flatmate, who is a lovable idiot, was being an idiot without the 'lovable' and we were locked in somewhere. Not my fault."
"Oh, really?"
Jeff, look. You seem to be really keen on showing up uninvited to everything I'm supposed to be doing. If you really want to be a fucking father so fucking much, instead of trying to replace me, why don't you impregnate some other woman?" Shit, am I really doing this? "Unless you're just jealous that despite having had an affair with my wife, it's my baby!" What's...what's this? JLB Lot are watching? "Yes, Jeff, don't give me that rabbit in the headlights look. I know that you slept with my wife while I was still married to her! Don't try to bullshit me!" I feel a tiny bit like Johnson! "If anything, I've been far, far too nice to you Jeff. Now, if you would kindly leave me be, I'd like to finish my drink without a smarmy, irritating adulterer standing in my line of sight." Mark folded his arms. Shit, I really did it. I'm no good at fist fights...what did I do when I was blasting people? That's right, draw myself up, stand up straight, look intimidating...Yes! I win Jeff! Ha ha! You may have won in the Pacific Theater but I've won World War II! Mark stood his ground and Jeff walked away a seemingly broken man, shock etched on his face, without protest. I can't believe it. I really really did it. I really hope that it all happened because otherwise I've got no excuse for being overly courageous! Mark went back to his seat and drank his beer happily. The beer of victory.
"You did what Mark?" Jeremy stared at him and his flatmate's jaw dropped. "Shit. Really? Are you making this up, Mark?" He asked in the tone of a teacher trying to catch out a lying pupil.
"No I am not making it up!" Mark replied hotly and suddenly the phone rang. "Oh God! What if it's Jeff?" Jeremy answered the phone with a skeptical glance at Mark and Mark mouthed back, 'Tell them I'm not here!'
"No, sorry, he's out at the moment." Jeremy rolled his eyes, nevertheless obeying Mark. "You...want me to tell him what? What?" Oh dear. That can't be good. "OK, you want me to tell him that. Right. And you want me to ask him what? Well, alright then. Yeah, thanks, bye!" Jeremy ended the call, put the phone down and stared at Mark as if he couldn't quite believe the conversation he'd just had. "That was Dave, Dave from JLB? Do you know him? I thought JLB went bust-"
"Of course I know Dave, Jeremy. You should know him too, or have you forgotten your short, sorry, very short stint as a phone pig?" Ha, that shut him up!
"Yeah, well Dave says he thinks you're 'ace' and that your stand against Jeff was 'very inspiring' and he had no idea about Sophie." Well of course not, in our little spin war she turned everyone against me! Maybe I should feel bad about making her look bad in front of the JLB Lot...but it's true and...well, she wouldn't be seeing them again necessarily. She's alright with her family supporting her. "He also asked when you're 'down the pub' next because he wants to buy you a drink."
"Alright Jez, no need for quite so many air quotes, thank you." Mark replied snippily, riled up by Jez's disbelief. The phone rang again before Jez could retort and Jez answered it, sighing.
"Yes this is Mark's PA, also known as Jez, how can I help? Oh?" Why did he say 'oh' like that? What's gone wrong now? "I see. Well I will let him know. Goodbye!" Jeremy shot him a sly look.
"Well, well, Mark, I don't know whether word has spread that quickly, but Dobby wants to meet up with you!" Mark's eyes widened. "Nice one, Mark!"
"What? W-what? Really?" Jeremy nodded.
"In fact, she wants to meet up now."
"Well, that's great Jeremy, but where?" Jez laughed.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to say where. I'll forget my own head next! It's down at Lazer Bowl." Mark nodded, shellshocked.
"Alright. Well, here I go." Jeremy grinned.
"Good luck, man! Off goes the other El Dude brother!" He then performed the driver-pulling-horn-gesture. "Uh uhhhh!"
"Eh ehhh!" Mark returned it in his typical slightly-less-certain-than-Jeremy fashion. Jeremy has been in an awfully good mood over the past few days. Maybe it's because he's actually been getting some.
Here I am. In Lazer Bowl with Dobby. She's just bowled a strike and the game has started... The game. Yes, a great game. It's a grand game, bowling-
"Mark, are you gonna talk to me or are you just gonna stare at the pins and the score display?" Dobby asked somewhat patiently.
"Oh, sorry Dobby! Yes. How are you?" Dobby smiled. Can't tell whether she is genuinely happy or whether she is humouring me. God, I hate talking to people when you don't know what they're thinking. Then again, when it comes to people like Jez, maybe it's better not to know.
"I'm great...how are you?" Small talk. Everything's OK with small talk. No need to think about it.
"Yes, I'm good thanks." Whoops, my turn to bowl. Mark stepped up to the lane and concentrated. Let's see...how did I do it...aim the lightning bolt, aim the lightning bolt...Yes! A strike!
"Nice one!" Dobby seemed genuinely impressed. Mark smiled modestly.
"Probably luck." And by probably, I mean possibly, and by that I mean it wasn't! Haha!
"Right. Mark, I wanted to talk to you about something." Dobby spoke. Mark stiffened, his expression becoming serious. "...Relax, it's not like that!" She waved a hand airily. "No, it's just something, a little thing. Something weird."
"I'm listening." Mark tried to play it cool. One might say that weird is my specialty, after all.
"Well, it's...no, you'll probably laugh at me." Mark shook his head hastily,
"Oh no I wouldn't!" He quickly put the notion to rest.
"OK, promise?" She asked, seemingly hesitant. Mark nodded.
"I promise, Dobby, I bloody well promise." Am I overdoing it? Dobby sat on the bench and Mark walked over to her and sat down calmly. Hope my body language is open and inviting.
"Well, it's...a couple of days ago, I think I had this really weird dream." She started, not sure how exactly to explain. "A dream where I was in a world like Dungeons and Dragons but not, and...it's stupid, forget it. Dreams are just dreams." Calm down, Corrigan. Think, think, think. This time, you have a good while to figure out your line. Not like you're being wrongly arrested or the world is about to crash down around your ears. Something that has impact, but not too corny...is there such a thing as too corny? "...Mark? Were you listening?" Dobby stared at him, not annoyed, rather simply concerned.
"What? Oh, yes." Shit. I really hope this works. With some effort, Mark looked into her eyes seriously.
"I know exactly what you're talking about. Did you ever find out about Clan Nutsy?" Dobby's eyes widened and she sat up straight. So she must have heard about the legendary clan. Perfect. Time for the finishing blow, so to speak. "When I said you were the most beautiful viera I'd ever met, I wasn't lying." Take a deep breath, let the reminder of the compliment sink in. "But... you don't have to be a viera to be beautiful." ...shit, silence. Dobby has frozen, we have broken Dobby. There's no control-alt-delete for people! I've overdone it. Too much, Mark! I definitely fucked this- what's this? Dobby leaned in and before Mark could panic further, they were kissing. Thank you Ivalice!
When they finally came up for air, Dobby asked breathlessly,
"So, what exactly did you mean about the sick and twisted hallucination caused by, what was it, magic mushroom-laced wine?" Mark laughed nervously.
"Oh, right, well you see, before everything, you know, went down and Jez and Super Hans and I ended up being arrested like you saw, I was just having a civilised glass of wine-" Getting absolutely and utterly pissed because you and me were not getting on- "-and Jeremy joined me and it just so happened that Super Hans came round. So we were all drinking and then-" Jeremy and I smoked weed, I actually smoked some marijuana! "-without our knowledge, Super Hans somehow put magic mushrooms in our wine, probably powdered-" Mark, you're sounding like a drug baron! Careful! "-not that I actually know how that sort of thing works, but he drugged us. He drugged us good. Then it turned out he was bored so he took some magic mushrooms also, and when we woke up, we were there too. In Ivalice." Dobby stared at him and he fidgeted uncomfortably. She either thinks I'm an addict or insane.
"Wow. So you thought it was all one massive drugs trip?"
"Well, yes. Until I met you." Will it hurt to- nah. "Super Hans and Jez didn't believe a single thing I said, but I realised that there might be more to it than alcohol and 'shrooms'." Mark finally fell silent and looked over at Dobby. That's a great smile. Nice smile, Dobby- no I won't say that, that's just weird. Dobby leaned in again and they continued to kiss warmly. They broke apart after what seemed like forever and Dobby asked quietly,
"Mark?"
"Mm?" Mark was in no state to be coherent after it all.
"Do you think...do you think you've changed? I think I've changed." Mark blinked a few times before his mind caught up with the conversation.
"Oh, right. Yes. I think so. I think that place must change people. I mean, it's probably...if we were really there for months and months in that world, well, that's the longest Super Hans has ever gone without crack. So that's one change for the good. And...to be completely honest, Dobby, I'm not sure how Jez has changed...yet. But...I think I'm...I try to be more confident. Maybe think to myself that life isn't quite as bad as I make it in my mind." Dobby smiled softly at him. "What about...you?"
"Well, I saw Jeff the other day and he tried to make one of his comments but it just didn't touch me at all. Actually, I might have made a better comment back." Ha! Brilliant! "It just doesn't bother me any more, being called a freak or whatever it is next." Ha ha ha, Jeff, that must be wonderful. Your two favourite targets both suddenly turn on you! Ha ha, elephant tamer, how does it feel when Nelly suddenly stamps on your foot and Dumbo rips your arm off! "I think you're more confident too. I'm suddenly spending less time trying to work out what it is you're trying to say because you take less time to say it, and when you do speak, it's a lot less strained, you know?" This is maybe the best day of my life! What's going to go wrong to- no, Mark, nothing is going to go wrong. Worse things have definitely gone wrong on better days in Ivalice, well, almost better days, and we got out of that fine!
"Well, thanks, Dobby." Mark leaned in and Dobby drew back suddenly.
"Mark, wait, I forgot to ask, what do you know about that place?" Mark raised his eyebrows, momentarily confused.
"What, Ivalice?"
"Yeah." Dobby nodded.
"Well, it's apparently out of a Final Fantasy game or something?" Dobby seemed to be thinking hard.
"Final Fantasy...right. I think I'll go out and buy it." She replied. Mark's mouth felt dry suddenly as he had a thought.
"Would...when you do find a copy...would you like to come over to mine and maybe we could play it together? Have a few glasses of wine and see how good we are at it all now we're back in real life?" This time, it was Dobby leaning in again as their lips met.
Bangaa: A large, physically strong lizard. Calling one a lizard is actually very offensive. Jez happens to be a Gladiator, a type of bangaa warrior that uses broadswords and a variety of fearsome attacks.
Nu Mou: I think it may be pronounced "noo-moh". A dog-like creature with long, floppy ears who is usually very intelligent or intellectual. Mark is an Illusionist, a type of Nu Mou magician who uses illusions that cover the entire battlefield and are so real that they harm the enemy. He combines this with the skills of a Black Mage later on. A Black Mage uses fire, ice and lightning to harm enemies.
Moogle: A very short cat with long ears like a rabbit. Actually has a red pom-pom-like object attached to its head but I forgot whether they had these in FFTA. Super Hans is one of these. He's a Gunner, a Moogle that can shoot targets over very long distances and can also add elements to their shots to cause more damage such as fire.
Viera: Tall, slim, graceful rabbit-women with long hair and rabbit ears atop their heads. Dobby is a Fencer, a Viera that uses a rapier to pierce her enemy to bits.
Human: Marche is one. Your bog-standard humanoid race.
Crystals: There are five of these, and they're assumed to be what keep the fantasy world Ivalice around. Destroying these theoretically means going back home and destroying the fantasy world.
Queen? The Queen is actually a powerful god-like being that's keeping the fantasy world in existence.
Marche's friend: the boy who created this world by accidentally activating a magic book that transforms the village of St. Ivalice (and technically Earth for the purposes of this fanfiction) into the fantasy world.
Marche: The main character of Final Fantasy Tactics Advance, leader of Clan Nutsy. Wants to go home and fights everything including but not limited to the law to do that. He becomes an outlaw partway through the game, which is why the guards go around arresting random people and in this fanfiction Mark and company have to fight the law (and the law won! ...sorry)
Lamia: A woman-snake hybrid creature that has, among others, the power to turn people into frogs.
Maiden's Kiss: the potion that restores frogs back into their original selves.
Muscadet: A town where the viera live.
Thanks for reading! If there are any questions or corrections, please do contact me!