(I don't own Coheed and Cambria, The Amory Wars, Good Apollo, Matrix, BikeHard, and anything else I might mention. Basically, I don't own shit.)
A/N: Hey, this is a oneshot based on The Amory Wars and Good Apollo I'm Burning Star IV, both graphic novels by Coheed and Cambria's Claudio Sanchez (which is a cool name).
It's kind of strange, but... the graphic novels are strange. just a bit of background: Amory Wars is a story, but it never really resolves. Good Apollo takes place after Amory Wars, and it tells the end of the Amory Wars storyline by focusing on the Writer (mentioned in the song Apollo I: The Writing Writer). The Writer's ten-speed bicycle is telling him who to kill and stuff like that (mentioned in the song Ten Speed (of God's Blood and Burial)). This is just kind of a random story that I was inspired to write about the bicycle's background. Because seriously, why does the bicycle talk?
Hello. I'm a bicycle. Yeah, I'm a bicycle. Yeah, I can talk and do all kinds of fun shit. Why? Cause I'm a fucking ten-speed, that's why. You might have heard of me... I'm buddies with the Writer. You know which one, the writing Writer. Kind of a redundant title, I know, but he's kind of a strange dude. He talks to me, for one thing. He wrote the Amory Wars, for another thing... look at all the shit he put them through! Poor bastards never stood a chance... especially the little ones. What were their names again? Matthew, I think, and Maria. And then he screwed over his main character... and the girl. But she had it coming. He didn't want to kill her, but I showed him the errors of his ways. He killed her, in the end. It was tragic, but it had to happen. It had to end. Things couldn't have gone on like that. You might think that I'm a cruel, heartless bastard, which is partially true. I don't have a heart; bicycles don't have hearts. But seriously, though, I'm not that bad. I'm just... what they made me. And I love the Writer, Boy, as I so affectionately know him. Did you ever wonder why the Writer listened to me? Why he took my advice, despite the fact that I'm a fucking bicycle? We've been through a lot, the Writer and I...
He was about ten or so... yeah, he was ten. I remember, because I have ten speeds, and he was ten years old. Anyway, we were going to the lake like we did a lot during the summer. I liked going to the lake, because he would set me up under the tree, and I got to sit there and watch him swim. The sun was bright, that day, reflecting off the water, making dazzling patterns on anything it fell upon. The bugs were out, but they weren't biting the Boy. It was like they were just out to enjoy the day... especially the dragonflies. I think that's why he has such a fascination with dragonflies, why they played such a big role in the story, but that's really not important. Well, Boy was swimming, and he didn't even notice the two guys that came to the landing. When he went under water, they took me away. Yes, the fuckers stole me. That was not a good move on their part. Now, by this point, I already had more consciousness than most bicycles of my caliber. Okay, so I'm not a bad bike, but I'm not exactly *BikeHard level, or anything fancy and expensive like that. All of us bicycles are aware to an extent, although it's usually just a passing thought about how we need more air in our tires, or if our chains need to be oiled. We can talk with each other, too. Nothing deep, mainly just a greeting or a complaint about a bumpy road, no existentialism or anything like that, but still, it is communication. But, as I was saying, most bikes like me don't have as much of a mind as I do. I blame it on the excessive amount of time Boy spent with me. He didn't really have any friends, so he would talk to me. I started listening one day, and it kind of escalated from there. I had gotten bored of talking to the other bikes in the garage. They were... very two-dimensional, in a way. They didn't care about the outside world, and they never wanted to talk about anything interesting. I wanted to be able to talk to Boy, because I loved him more than anything. I mean, he was my owner, my rider, and that's what matters most to a bike: being ridden. It's what we're made for, after all. It is our purpose. So naturally, I was more than a little distressed at being kidnapped. They didn't even ride me. They threw me in the back of a truck- yes, a fucking truck- and took me away. They tried to sell me to a pawn shop, but the guy said that he would have to wait to give them the money for a few days. Apparently, they have to keep things for like, a week or so, just to make sure it wasn't stolen from someone. Well, I was stolen, and I was pissed about it. After they tried to sell me off, like some kind of low-quality, three-speed bike, they were kind of stuck with me.
"Maybe we should take it back to the kid." Yes! Yes, take me back to the Boy!
"Or we could scrap it. Probably make more money offa that thing for scrap metal..." No! No, do not take me to the junkyard! The other one agreed, though, and for a while, I thought that I was done for. They didn't try to take me there until the next day, though, which gave me an entire night of sitting in the back of that damn truck (I hate trucks. They're so arrogant.), trying over and over again to move. I tried to focus on what it felt like when the Boy was pedaling, the way my pedals moved, my chains, everything... by morning, I was able to move my chain, just to turn my wheel. Not enough, though. No, not enough. They took me to the junkyard. They gave me to a man, who gave them money (thirty fucking dollars for my life! The nerve of some people!), and he wheeled me over to lean against a wall. I watched what he was doing with all the other scrap metal he had... he was throwing them all into a noisy machine that I could tell was melting them down. I could feel the heat from where I was, and I was a good distance away from it.
Hey, I tried calling to the machine, not really expecting a response.
Who? She sounded totally confused, although that's to be expected. Not many of us spoke in words. It was usually just squeaks and clanging noises that got our basic emotions across.
Me. Tenspeed over here.
Hello. Why here? Her language skills were sort of rough, but hey, I could understand her, and that's really all that mattered.
Sold for scrap, I explained.
Doomed. Well, that was one way of putting it.
Yes, doomed.
I can try.
Try what?
Not to kill. To cool. Turn off. She would do that for me?
But... will that make problem for you? Okay, so my language skills were still developing too.
Maybe little problem. Not big problem. Not dead. Maybe they try to fix.
Thank...
Do not thank yet. Suddenly, I heard an awful clanging sound coming from her. There. Gear off. What? She had dropped a gear? That had to hurt! It hurt when my parts weren't working... my chain had come off once, and it had been agonizing.
Did not have to get hurt for me!
Did not want to kill. No one talk to me. You, I like. Well, that was nice, but still...
You be okay?
Yes. Man will fix. Man love me. It was true. He was actually talking to her now...
"What's wrong, you broken? Don't worry, we'll get ya fixed up here..." Hm. It was strange, but then again, so was the fact that Boy talked to me. To each his own machine, I guess.
I can move.
You move? By self?
Little bit. I try more now. Through the rest of the day, I worked on moving more and more, the melting machine encouraging me the whole way. She was a very personable piece of machinery. The man was working on fixing her, and when he stopped to take his lunch break, I managed to move enough that... I fell over.
Oh, the machine commented. It was a bit embarrassing.
Oops. The man had noticed, though, that I had fallen over, apparently by myself. He looked a little puzzled as he walked over.
"What knocked you over?" He muttered as he looked at me. I tried my hardest to give him a sign that I was sentient. I tried, struggled, strained with all my might... and I managed to move my pedals. Quite a bit, actually, enough that he saw that I was moving by myself. He backed away from me slowly, muttering about demons or something, but my new friend made a rumbling sound. He spun to face her, his face pale. "What's going on?" She made another, quieter noise, that didn't sound as ominous. "C-can you hear me?" He was a clever one... "M-make noise twice if you can..." she clanged twice in affirmation, and I thought he would fall over. "What about the bike?" She clanged twice again. "Shit..." He sat down in his chair as he watched me cautiously. I moved my pedals a little, irritated, and he seemed to get the idea. "Oh. Sorry." He picked me up and leaned me against the wall again (I didn't have a kickstand at this point... I don't remember what happened to it).
Smart Man, the melter said proudly.
Yes, Man is smart. And is nice. Man cleared his throat.
"So, um... can you talk to each other?" Melter clanged twice. He looked at me. "The guys that dropped you off... you remember them, right?"
You remember?
Yes, I remember them, I told Melter. She clanged twice.
"Were they your owners?"
No! Not owners! Boy is owner! Melter made a terrible grinding sound. Man laughed.
"Does that mean 'no?'" Melter clanged twice. "Didn't think they were... I know them. They're pretty shady."
Man is very smart! Melter clearly felt the same way about Man that I felt about Boy.
Yes. Very smart, I agreed.
"Do you want to go back to your owner?"
Yes... love Boy. She clanged twice. He sighed heavily.
"I wish you could talk..." Hey, I could try that! I'd never really tried to make human noises at all. I tried moving a little, and I made it almost three inches before falling over. "Hm. Maybe you can roll your way back home." He was joking, but if I practiced, I could do that!
"Eeek..." His eyes widened to the point of popping.
"W-what the hell?" I had... I had made noise! I had done it!
"Oooooy. Ooooooy. Bbbbbbhhoooooy." Hm, this was harder than it seemed...
"Are you talking?"
You talking?
Yes. Talking. Trying, anyway... she clanged twice for me. She was very helpful...
"Boooooy. Booooyyy. Boy." There! I got it! I got it!
"Boy? Is that what you're saying?"
You say "boy?"
Yes. Boy is owner. Once again, she clanged twice.
"Boy is your owner?" More clanging. "Ooookay... I don't suppose you know Boy's name?"
Know name?
No... Boy is only name I know. Grinding sounds ensued. Man sighed.
"Yeah, I was afraid of that." He sighed, rubbing his chin. "Well, I guess I could keep you around for a while... maybe fix you up a bit... you like that?"
You like? I wanted to answer for myself...
Hang on.
"Yyyynnnnnn. Yyyyyyyyyyaaaaaa. Yyyyaaaaas. Yyyyaaaa..." Very frustrating...
"Yeah?"
Yeah. I gave up. She clanged for me.
"You know, you don't have to get the words perfect. 'Ya' works well enough for 'yes,' and something like 'na' or 'nuh' works well enough for 'no,'" he told me. I liked this man quite a bit.
"Yuuuhhh. Yaaaa. Yyyaa. Ya." There! Got it! "Ya. Yas."
"Good! Wow... I can't believe I'm talking to a furnace and a bike..." I decided to ignore that comment.
"Nnnnngh." This was a bit harder. "Nnnnnuuuhhhhh. Nuuu. Nouuuu. Noo, nooo no!" Hah! "No! Ya!"
"Wow. You're a quick learner. Who'd have thought?" I couldn't tell if I should be insulted or proud, so I went with proud. "Well, this might be a bit easier if you can talk."
"Ya." Hah! I liked talking. It made me happy.
You talk! You good at talking!
I like talking! I practice! Practice moving, too! To prove my point, I rolled forward again... and fell again. Man sighed as he picked me up off the floor.
"You want me to make you some training wheels? Just so you can move on your own..." I thought about it for a minute. Training wheels were embarrassing... kind of an insult to a ten-speed, but at this point, they were really the best option...
"Ya." He smiled at me.
"Okay. I'll get ya some."
"Ngh kiktnd."
"What?" Grr...
"Kiiiiktnd." I rolled forward and fell over again, trying to show him what I meant.
"Kickstand?"
"Ya."
"You want a kickstand, then? And training wheels?"
"Ya."
"I can do that. I'll get them first thing tomorrow. It's Sunday, so the shop is closed today. Why don't you take it easy with moving, and just work on talking? You can work on moving when you've got more balance." This man was a genius. Melter, of course, was the first to say it.
Smart Man! Man is very smart!
Yes. Very very smart, and very very nice.
"Taaaannk," I told him. "Tankssss."
"You're welcome." Yes! He'd understood me! This was going very well. Amazingly. I'd gotten very lucky to have been sold to this man. He ran a hand through his greying hair. "You know, this is probably why I don't have a girlfriend..."
"Eh?"
"Because I spend my days talking to machines and bicycles. Not that I mind the company," he reassured us as Melter made a displeased sound. "Not at all. Can you talk?" He asked Melter. She made a grindy noise.
Maybe tell him I try? She asked me.
You will try to talk?
Yes.
"Sssssse taaaaaaaai. Ssssse twy. Twwwry. Try. Se try. Shhheeee try. She try."
"She try?"
"Ya."
"She tries to talk?"
"Wll try."
"She will try?"
"Ya."
"Well, I look forward to it!" He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, man. What a day. What a day it's been..." Yes indeed, what a day...
I stayed with them for almost a week, getting used to the extra set of wheels and working on my speech. Melter had made some progress too, although her design made it more difficult for her to talk. For me, the tires were soft and rubbery, and I could ind of move them, and move air over them like a mouth. Sort of like that, anyway. It's hard to explain. She didn't have any of that, though, just gears and stuff. So she kind of had a little bit of a lisp, but still, she was doing really well, considering that she was a machine designed to melt down metal.
"Hey, Tenspeed," Man greeted me when he came into the workshop. "Hey, Melter."
"Ay," She called. That was how she said 'hi.'
"Helllooo," I answered.
"Listen, Tenspeed... I don't like to separate you two, because you two seem to be good friends, but... did you want to try to find Boy?" Yes! Yes, I wanted to find boy! But... Melter...
You be okay if I leave?
I be sad, but okay. Maybe you come back? Someday?
Yeah. Maybe.
You go find Boy. You love Boy. She was right.
"Ya. Ffffind Boy." Man nodded. He'd told us his name was Arnold, but Man was easier, and Melter was already used to thinking of him as Man.
"Okay. Well, you can move by yourself, really well, but to be honest, it might kind of freak people out to see a bike rolling down the street by itself, you know?"
"Ya."
"So I was thinking... do you know where Boy lives?"
"No. Ya. By lllllaaaaake. Lake. Waaaater. Waaater is by howwwse. Howse. House."
"There's a lake by the house?"
"Ya."
"How close?"
"Mmmm....." I wasn't sure how to explain distance.
"If you were at the lake, could you get back to the house?"
"Ya! Ya, go to lllake from houssse llllotsss."
"Alright, and you'd recognize the lake if you were there?"
"Ya."
"Okay. That's what we'll do then, okay?"
"Ya." I turned my handlebars toward Melter.
Bye, Melter.
Bye, Tenspeed. Find Boy, be happy.
Yes, very happy. I tell him about you, bring him to see you.
I work on talk to talk to him.
Bye. Thank you for save me.
Thank you for talk and be friend for me. Bye.
Man loaded me into his truck (yeah, he had a truck. I tried not to hold it against him, though.), and I watched as the scenery flew past. It was amazing, even faster than when Boy went down hills with me. I was glad that Man had strapped me into the back of the truck; I didn't want to fall out. That would hurt, maybe kill me. We turned onto a dirt road that dead-ended into a landing at a lake, but it was not the right lake. Man turned back to me, opening the little window in the back of the cab.
"This the right place?"
"No... nnot rrrright."
"Okay, next lake." We visited two more wrong lakes until we were there, at Boy's lake. At my lake.
"Yyyya!" I had a harder time speaking when I got excited. "Rrrright lake! Lake!" Man laughed. He liked it when I got excited.
"Alright then." He got out and took me out of the truck. "Now, is it okay if I ride you?"
"Ya." Whatever would get me back to Boy faster. He got on, but didn't pedal or anything.
"Would it be easier if I pedaled, or do you want to?"
"Yooouuu can pedall, I steeeeeeeeeer." I liked how 'E's felt when I said them... He nodded and began pedaling. I didn't even have to pay attention to land marks or anything; I knew this route well. Very soon, a familiar house was visible. "Thhhhhere. Is house. Boy's." I was suddenly nervous... why?
"You okay?" My handlebars were shaking.
"Nerrrrrrvous. Him not llllliiiiike talk?"
"No, no. He'll still like you, now that you can talk. Why wouldn't he?"
"Weeeiiiiiird." He laughed.
"Okay, so it is kind of weird that you can talk, but... he's your owner. He loves you. And if he doesn't, you can come back with me and Melter." I felt a little better... sort of.
"Kay. Lesss go." So we went to the house. Man got off of me and knocked on the door. Boy's dad answered door. Apparently, he knew Man, because they were happy to see each other. I was impatient; I just wanted to see boy. I heard Man talking to Boy's dad.
"I had some shady guys sell it to me as scrap metal, but I thought it looked familiar. I didn't remember where I'd seen it until this morning, though. I thought I'd bring it back to him." I was disappointed that he had to lie, but of course we couldn't tell the dad...
"Yeah! He'll be thrilled. He was heartbroken when it went missing. He wouldn't come out of his room for a whole day." I was sad that Boy was sad, but very happy that he'd missed me so much. I'd missed him, too! I heard the dad go inside, and a few minutes later, Boy ran out the door. As soon as he saw me, he ran over and threw his arms around me.
"Bike! You brought my bike back!" Man smiled happily.
"Hey, how'd you like to see my workshop?" Man asked him. What was he doing?
"Dad, can I?" The dad shrugged.
"I don't see why not. Just don't get in Arnie's way, understand?" Boy nodded excitedly, and the dad went inside.
"Alright, then. I left my truck at the lake, and I rode your bike here. Why don't you go ahead and meet me there?" Boy nodded, jumping onto me.
"Why are there wheels on it?"
"I'll tell you about it when we get there, okay?" Man asked, winking at him. Boy laughed happily as he started pedaling. I decided not to say anything, because it would just scare him. We got to the lake, and Man got there a little later. He put me back in the truck, but wouldn't let Boy ride in back with me. Said it was dangerous. They talked about bikes the whole way back, and I was really happy to hear that Boy had turned down the new bike the dad had offered to get. I was the only bike he wanted! Finally, we got there, and Man got me out of the truck and brought me inside.
Melter! We find boy!
Boy happy to see you?
Very! Boy loves me!
"Alright, this is kind of weird, but... well, your bike can talk," Man told Boy bluntly. Boy stared at him, not believing him completely. "Go on, Tenspeed. Say hi."
"Hhhiiii, Boy. Hi, Hi hi hi!" I was so happy to see him! Boy didn't look scared, but he looked amazed, and very happy. I think he'd always kind of hoped that I could understand him. That's why he would always talk to me.
"How can you talk?"
"Yyyou talk to meeee. I lllisten. Then, theyyyyy steeeeal me. I mooove. Talk tooo Melter. Man noooot melt meee. Talllk tooo Man. Misssssed you, lllots! Lllllove you! Love you!" Boy and Man both laughed.
"I love you too, bike. What did you call... him?" Man nodded.
"Tenspeed. He seems pretty proud of the fact that he's a ten-speed bike." Damn straight, I was!
"Ten-speeeeeed is best speeeed," I explained. They found that pretty funny, too. "Thissss Melter. Sheeeee friend." Melter clanged at Boy, who jumped a little.
"Aaaay," She greeted him.
"Sheee onlyyyy talk little," I told him.
"I'm very glad to meet you, Melter," he told her seriously. Then, he turned to Man. "I don't live that far away... is... is it okay if we come over sometimes?"
"Of course! Come over any time you want! Oh, and the training wheels. I was working on making removable ones, that are easy to put on and take off. That way, Tenspeed can move around on his own." I rolled forward, nuzzling Boy's elbow with my handlebar to demonstrate.
"That's awesome!" He shouted. Yes, it was pretty awesome. Of course, I was a pretty awesome bike, so it was to be expected.
"Well, you should be getting home for dinner pretty soon," Man told Boy after a while. Boy whined, sad. "Hey, you can come visit any time. And any time Tenspeed needs any work, I'll do what I can, free of charge. Okay?" Boy smiled.
"Okay. Thank you, Mister." Man laughed.
"Hey, you can call me whatever you want. My name's Arnold, but most people call me Arnie. These two just call me Man, so that works too. Your name as of right now is Boy. That's what they call you." Boy laughed.
"I like that. It fits me. I don't really need a name." Yeah, he was an odd one, alright.
"Okay, then, Boy. I'll see you around, then."
"Yes. Thank you, Man, for helping Tenspeed. Good to meet you, Melter."
"Oooo toooo," she called, making Boy laugh again. I liked seeing him this happy; it didn't happen often. "Byyyyyyyeee."
"Bye, guys," Man called as Boy and I left.
Bye, Tenspeed.
Bye, Melter.
We visited often over the next few years, but as time went on, the town's population dwindled to practically nothing. It was kind of sad, but it meant that I could go wherever I wanted without attracting too much attention. I got much better at speaking (as you can tell) and so did Melter. Man still lives in his shop, and Boy lives by the lake. I live wherever the hell I feel like (but mostly by the lake with Boy). I don't really know what happened, but there was... an incident, in which Boy became the Writer. He got a little funny after that, and something weird happened to me. Now, I can change my form, which comes in useful. Don't ask me to explain, because I don't understand at all, but whatever he wrote was written into creation. Yeah, I know. It sounds like the Matrix, or something like that, but I'm just telling you what happened. Unfortunately for the characters he created, he isn't exactly the most stable person, so they were forced to endure more that they should have...
I love Boy, but he frightens me. His story is rather disturbing, and the fact that the characters had to live it out, that he had control over their lives, and he put them through such suffering makes me wonder about what kind of person he is... but who am I to judge a god? After all, I'm just a bicycle.
A/N: There. I know, it's weird, and really doesn't have much to do with the stories, but... you know. I was proud of the dragonfly reference.
The dragonflies are what carry a virus, they use it to infect people, yada yada yada, set off the Monstar virus, you know...
There's a scene in Good Apollo where the Writer sees like, a demon bicycle thing, and he says "What the fuck are you?" and the bicycle says "What does it look like? I'm a fucking bicycle." It made me laugh, because the bicycle is sort of sarcastic, so that was the sort of mood I tried to portray in this. Also, in the song Ten-speed of God's Blood and Burial, there's a part where the Writer and the bicycle are talking. the bicycle asks the Writer if he's going to kill off the character.
"But are you going to kill her off?"
"It's not your decision. I love the character, she stays."
"Yeah, well the only thing love's done is put you in this position; I say kill her off!"
"Yeah, but you say a lot of things... and how does that work? You're a bicycle"
I like that line quite a bit, so I sort of built off of it.
Just kind of a short, sort of fun oneshot, about something totally inconsequential, but I had fun writing it. I'm planning to do another Good Apollo oneshot with the Writer, so... hopefully I can do that soon.
thank you to my fellow coheed fans. EvilMuffinsOfDeath and soundofmadness223. obviously, I like the whole ten-speed things, seeing as that's where my screenname, tenspeed457, comes from.
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked it. I would love it if you would tell me what you think!
*also, BikeHard is an expensive bike brand. I think. If not, let's pretend it is.*
~alex~