Ahoy-hoy! I'm off to the Big Chill tomorrow to join in the zombie revolution with Mr. Fielding and a couple of my LJ girls. So while I'm off contributing to the apocalypse I shall leave you all with this update. Hope you like.

Disclaimer: Again, not mine!

"You're dead to me."

Vince looked up as if he'd only just noticed Howard was in the room. Despite having the older man rant and rave at him for a good ten minutes, he'd been too absorbed in painting his own nails silver - 'future whore' look was in again.

Now, fashion was the last thing his single brain-cell could afford to focus on. His mouth hung open dumbly, no sound able to fully muster until; "…Wh-what did you say?"

"I said - you're dead to me." Howard fumed again, even more irritated that he'd had to repeat himself. At least he now had Vince's attention.

The electro boy blinked, dumbstruck. The tiny brush fell from his hand and quickly stained his black, sparkly mattress cover like a silver tear-drop. "You…you're only jokin'. Right?" He forced his usual sunbeam grin, though his widening eyes betrayed his real fear of the situation at last.

"Everything's a fuckin' joke to you, isn't it? 'Oh, it's only a joke, H'ward, don't be such a baby,'" Howard mimicked his friend's mockney tones with a snarl. He took a step forward, his face hardening once more, making Vince cower slightly. "Well let me tell you something, you little shitbox. Life isn't another of your fucking cartoon shows you like. Some of us actually have FEELINGS. Not all of us are shallow, plastic, simple-tons with ice running through our veins!"

Vince frowned, looking positively insulted; "'Ow dare you? I do have feelings! Not like you'd have any fuckin' clue about that-"

"Oh I know, Vince." Howard's voice dripped with a condescending drawl. "I know you feel things like sadness, pain, shame and guilt - if anything bad happens to YOU. The rest of us can all go to hell, can't we? No, scratch that. You're fine with helping out anyone else in the world. Even psychopathic foxes who want to rape you! But as for me - you're so called 'best friend' - you really couldn't give a toss. Could you?!"

"How can you say that?!" Vince cried, sitting up straight, clutching the mattress for support as he looked up at Howard, voice cracking with hurt. "After everything we've been through! You know I'd do anything for you, you jazzy freak."

"Maybe, once upon a time, I'd've believed you there, Vincent." Howard said, somewhat sombrely. "But those times 'we went through' of which you speak just feel too long ago now. And you've changed. You ain't the same man I knew before. That man was my best mate. But you?…I don't even know who you are anymore. I guess…I've been too afraid to accept it. But tonight gave me a revelation. You embarrassed and insulted me for the last time! No more will I allow you to hold me back from achieving my destiny and hogging all the limelight for yourself! I ain't putting up with it anymore….I don't care about YOU anymore. You. Are. Dead to me."

Silent rage pulsing through his bloodstream, Howard stood with his fists clenched, waiting for Vince's reaction. He had none. The younger man was just staring off into space, looking as baffled and lost as if Howard had just been swearing loudly to him in Korean.

With an exhausted sigh, Howard turned and began to stomp out of the shared bedroom, unable to stand another minute in his roommate's presence. He thought he was home free until he heard Vince's boots hit the floor and the child-like voice ring out his name.

"Howard!" Vince reached out a desperate hand. "Please…"

"DON'T - TOUCH - ME!"

------

Howard opened his eyes. Then he closed them, trying to open them again. Nothing. This couldn't be right. He couldn't be in a room of nothing. There was no such thing. But that's what there was. All around him; left, right, above and below - nothing. Darkness. He had a frightening sense of vertigo - was he even standing on anything or just floating in Nothing?

At the very least, he was glad to be distracted with this confusion to no longer have the memory of those heartbroken puppy-dog eyes staring up at him. Not for now, anyway.

"The Fool has awoken." He heard his voice…no. That thing that had stolen his voice. It muttered tauntingly from somewhere in the Nothing.

What had he said his name was again? Howard couldn't remember. All he knew was that one moment he'd been sat on his bed reading Vince's letter and the next there was some cloaked demon in the room talking nonsense to him. Then a flash - and he was forced to relive the night before last, which had been even more painful then he'd remembered. Now he was here. Wherever 'here' was, if it was anywhere.

Howard looked around, which was more of a difficult task when everything around him had the same shade of darkness. "…Where are you? Where did you bring me? I'm telling you, I'm Howard Moon and I will not stand for any of thi-"

"Silence."

"Ok, sorry." Howard mumbled pathetically. Somewhere, god knows where around him, he thought he heard a foot step forward towards him.

"Many millennia ago, there was a kingdom on a glorious planet a billion light years away from your pitiful rock that you call Earth. The kingdom was ruled by a cruel tyrant of a king who, by the end of his terrible reign, died leaving his people in poverty and chaos. The people welcomed the reign of the king's eldest son to the throne, hoping he would repair the damage his father had left. The new king wasn't a monster like his father. He did not force his land into war or invent new, cruel laws for his people to follow. In the end he did…nothing. He had the power of a mighty army at his command and the gifts granted by the gods to rule the kingdom however he wished - and, yet, he did nothing. He spent each day lounging on his throne, indulging in all the gluttonous luxuries he was freely given, never caring to take responsibility for his people. As long as his own needs were satisfied, he didn't care whether the kingdom fell to ruins or revolted against him.

"Now, the king's high priest was a powerful shaman. His most passionate study was the process of using the magic of the gods to manipulate more than merely space - but time as well. During the new king's pointless reign, the high priest was swamped with prayers from the people - still left, abandoned, in their ruins of a city from the old king's rule. Prayers to save them, even though too much time had gone past and too many had starved for there to be any hope left for the poor people of Aradia. The high priest was desperate to save his kingdom - so he sold his soul to the goddess of time in order to be granted the power he so desperately wanted to acquire. Once the divine deal was complete - the priest used his new powers to manipulate the timeline of the royal family. He erased the new king from ever having been born, meaning that his younger brother - now the only prince of the kingdom - took up the throne instead. His majesty was everything his elder brother failed to be - decisive, ambitious, passionate, even somewhat ruthless. No, he wasn't the perfect ruler - but he WAS a ruler. And he managed to rebuild the kingdom to it's former glory, even with the loss of the live's of many slaves. It still meant that the kingdom could live on - instead of being frozen in oblivion as it would have under the Unworthy King's rule.

"From that day on, the now immortal high priest with the power to bend and shape time, knew that he'd been granted the goddess-given right to summon people throughout the universe and the centuries who wasted their precious lives away - and demand them to justify their own existence. Would their world have in some way moved more productively, more contributed, had they never been born? Is their presence remaining in this universe an insult to the gods? That is what is decided in the Court of Merit which you now stand in, Howard T.J Moon. You are the accused. And I am the Arbiter - the judge of your significance in the cosmos."

Panic now truly taking an iron grip, Howard could merely nod; "Well…thanks for clearing that up. And, uh, I'd love to contribute to this little…experiment thing but, I've gotta be scooting-"

"SILENCE." The Arbiter boomed once more.

Howard tried to run, only to find a force field of electric-blue bars smack him in the face and force him to stumble backwards. It was then that he took in his new surroundings. The Nothing had begun to fade away like recoiling black smoke. He could make out the shapes in the navy-blue and moonlight shaded edges carving themselves into scenery around him.

Eventually he blinked to discover he was standing in a small, dark but vivid ink-painted courtroom. Not a single expected shade of brown or paisley tainted the room, which would have comforted Howard somewhat - anything but the nightmare he appeared to be trapped in now.

The Arbiter was sat rightfully in his podium, overlooking the Court of Merit, his black gloved hands clasped in front of him, his face hidden as ever. Realising this was more than just another wacky adventure, Howard half-fainted backwards, luckily being caught by a helpful chair and made to sit at a small table on the left hand side of the room, having to look up at the over-seeing Arbiter. 'The Judge of his significance'? Howard had never felt more scared or alone in his life.

"Awright!"

A small but bouncing body of lollipop smiles and feathered blonde hair sat down in the chair beside Howard. The maverick turned his head, then having to do a double take to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Vince!" He cried out; surprised and ever-grateful - but confused. It definitely was Vince…but not as how he saw him lately. The different hair and slight chub of cheek had belonged to his younger friend when he was…well, younger.

Seeing his confusion, the younger Vince gave an apologetic smile; "Sorry, mate. This is just how I was asked to appear as. I'm given a different order as what to look like for each client. We both are. Hi, by the way, I'm your Defendant."

Knowing that this impostor wasn't really his Vince made Howard grimace when he dared to smile with Vince's perfect, cheerful beam. The Defendant held out a slender hand to shake Howard's but the maverick couldn't bare to respond, too filled with odd repulsion - how dare anyone pretend to be the person he wished was with him more than anything in the world, in spite of what had been said before?!

Howard gulped, trying to ignore any feeling of 'needing Vince'; "Uhm…what do you mean by 'you both'? Who else is-"

His question was answered as another figure swept into the room and sat himself down at the small table on the right of them. Howard looked up and his chest tightened - he couldn't be wrong this time. That raven hair, the Black Tubes 'uniform', the Venetian mask of make-up and pair of ice-cold blue eyes. It had to be!

"Vince! It's me, over here!" Howard called again, not even attempting to hide his thrill again at seeing his friend. He stood up in his seat and 'Vince' looked over. He smirked, then laughed at Howard, before turning back to face the Arbiter.

Howard felt like he'd been slapped with one of his jazz lps. He slowly sat down as his Defendant began to tug on his sleeve.

"Again, sorry." He sounded truly sincere in younger Vince's sweet, innocent voice; "It's just our jobs, y'know? I ain't even sure how it works this way, we can't control it. It varies from person to person."

Howard wasn't sure at all what his Defendant meant or what was even going on. Were either of these people Vince? Was Vince going to save him from yet another mess he'd fallen blindingly into like he had before? Doubt was creeping in heavily in Howard's mind. After the way they'd parted, Howard wouldn't have been surprised if Vince would willingly leave him to his fate. Whatever that was.

-----

"DON'T - TOUCH - ME!"

What happened next occurred in such a whirl of thuds and colour that neither would be able to remember it too clearly. Howard knew that when he felt Vince's fingertips brush at the back of his neck, his usual 'line' was already poised on the tip of his tongue - what he didn't expect was how his body was waiting to react. Yet, in the same second of saying those three words, Howard had managed to whirl around and wack his hand back at Vince as if swatting away an enormous, annoying moth. Not realising his own strength, nor the adreneline his anger gave him, he somehow managed to make Vince spin on his heels and fall swiftly back - his face cracking against his bed-post. He then lay still, his body twisted and crumbled in an awkward angle against the post.

Howard gasped, failing to register what was happening until it had happened. He could hear his heart thumping up to his skull, beating louder and louder as each second went by that Vince lay still. Each beat screamed at him to run to his broken friend, pick him up and fix him to make everything better. Howard was about to obey when Vince finally stirred. He shifted in his strange sitting or lying position so that Howard could see his face.

The sight made Howard want to kill himself. It wasn't even so much the red mark on Vince's razor-sharp, impeccable cheek bone. Nor even the trickle of blood leaking from a cut hidden somewhere. beneath his fringe. It was the hollow look in Vince's eyes. No fear. No anger. No daring front. Just…acceptance. Defeat. As if he'd been waiting for Howard to snap and lash out all along. Maybe he had, Howard scared himself at the thought.

'He really is hopeless,' thought Howard chillingly. 'How could I have let him turn into THIS?'

When Howard turns to leave again, Vince doesn't try to stop him. And, deep in his torn heart, as he walked out the bedroom and then the flat, Howard wishes that Vince had done.

----

The Arbiter stood up; "The Court of Merit is now in session. Howard TJ Moon - rise."

Not wanting to cause any trouble, Howard complied, his willowy legs feeling ever so brittle.

"Howard Moon," The Arbiter announced; "You have been charged with the crime of wasting the life having been given to you by the Powers That Be. Of living without having left any true, recognisable mark on this world and without being of any meaning to another living soul. Of refusing any chance of achieving honour or self-worth when it comes willingly into your path. How do you plead?"

The accusations echoed sharply in Howard's mind. Was that really what he was? A waster? It didn't make sense. HE was the one up at the crack of dawn to get to work to earn his keep. HE was the one who strived and struggled to try and achieve fame and glory. HE wasn't the one who got drunk and flitted around pointlessly with a gang of brainless Camden dolls. No. They clearly had the wrong person. Howard may have lost confidence in himself more than usual lately - but he knew enough to be sure of this.

He inhaled deeply, only to have the squeaky voice that came out his mouth leave him feeling him feeling ten inches tall; "N-not guilty. Your magnificence." He added a polite curtsy - praying that politeness would go a long way for once.

Sadly, all it did was cause his Defendant and (whom he'd worked out was) his Prosecutor, to explode into fits of giggles.

The Arbiter pounded on the pulpit with his fist; "Silence in court!" The two giggling Vince-look-alikes quickly hushed up. "…Very well. You may sit down, Howard Moon. You have chosen to argue your case - which means the trial now begins."

The Prosecutor let out another evil snigger, looking shiftily across to his opposing team. Howard began to wonder if he'd made the right choice. He looked to his apparent one and only friend in this situation, who was currently rummaging through a small, white, paper bag.

"What does he mean? The trial for what?" Howard asked, wearily.

"Ain't you been listening? The trial to see if you're worthy of being alive." The Defendant tutted, not meeting Howard's eyes. "Don't worry, all you've gotta do is justify yourself and he'll let you go. You won't even remember any of this, it'll just be a bad dream. S'fine."

"Okay…" Howard's mind swirled nauseatingly with more questions. One especially; "What happens if I don't justify myself well enough?"

"Then you get erased from history."

…Fuck.

The Defendant wavered the white paper bag under Howard's dropped jaw; "Saturn zinger?"

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