Purging Purge, 4

Ulala and Purge go through a terrifying experience... involving Fuse... and Space Michael... sorta... just read.

He was woken up by choked breathing, which he couldn't explain in his own head, which caused him to wake up in a bad and slightly scared mood. Purge was a notoriously light sleeper (it was pathetic how little it took to force him wide awake). He shook his head and had his eyes adjust to the minimal, slightly red light that Fuse ordered be turned on in all rooms to avoid "tripped in the dark" lawsuits.

The breathing was coming from Ulala, who was bunched up like a ball and twitching in her sleep. Her eyes were screwed shut, her eyebrows furrowed... Was she having a nightmare?

Purge slipped out of his bed of clothes and took Ulala's hand, squeezing and shaking it lightly. "Ulala, you okay?"

She immediately stopped shaking, and her body noticeably relaxed at the sound of his voice. He snickered lightly, a strange sense of power pumping into his chest for a split second, but then released what he was doing and shook his head. He wiggled Ulala's hand again and whispered. "I'm going back to bed."

He slipped his hand out of hers-

"NO!"

She had jolted awake, grabbing Purge's hand in a tight, kung-fu grip, breathing like she had run two miles in a desert. She and Purge both froze for a moment, Ulala out of shock and Purge out of... well, shock, but in a different way. The only sound for a while was the sound of Ulala breathing, which subsided as she flipped her ponytails back and tucked her hair around her ear. "Woah... what the...?"

Purge felt his palm being rubbed by Ulala's thumb, and finally she found him with her eyes and made eye contact with him. "Purge? What happened?"

At first, Purge didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent for a bit, unable to escape Ulala's blue-eyed stare. "You were having a nightmare."

Ulala's expression didn't change right away, but she did look to the side after a second. "Oh my gosh... it was the same dream..."

"What?"

"The same dream that..."

Ulala shifted her weight to where she was resting her weight on her shins, facing Purge. She gulped down a bit of fear and began...

"About three days ago... I had this dream, where I was out in the stadium on Morodia..."

&&&

Everything was real quiet... nobody was there, it was like a ghost town...

Ulala stumbled down the stairs, her feet unusually wobbly in her platforms. She remembered everything. The giant stage that would become Purge the Great was straight ahead, and now that she had seen it become Purge the Great, she could recognize the chest "P", the hands, and maybe the feet.

But where was everybody? Every seat was empty, not a soul to be found. All she could hear was a blowing wind, which made no sense, since she was out in space.

And then, I got this wierd feeling...

"Yeah?" Purge urged (that almost rhymed, hee hee!).

Someone else was there, but I couldn't see him... yet... But I hear him breathing, so I kept going forward...

She definitely heard something now, and it was coming from Purge's stage. She broke into a run, and-

I ran into the invisible wall...

SMACK! Into the invisible wall.

"But I designed that wall to let you in," Purge noted.

I know, and that's what confused me...

She pounded the wall with the heels of her hands, trying harder and harder with each attempt. She finally cried out, "LET ME IN!"

But, then I heard something, like crying or... something, I don't know. I looked down... and it was you...

A desperate sob came from her feet, and she followed the noise to its source; Purge! He was lying on the ground, his entire body (cloak and all) sunken into itself like an emaciated dog. He looked up at Ulala, tears streaming out from under his sunglasses.

"No..."

You started begging for help...

"Please, don't leave me here...!" Purge moaned, his breathing greatly exaggerated in a dream-like way. Ulala bent down to her knees, her hands still held back by an invisible wall. "Help...!"

"Did you-"

I tried to help, I-I-I couldn't get past the wall...

"Don't worry!" Ulala pushed harder against the barrier, trying anything to get her hand through. "Come on, come on!"

"Help me..." Purge sobbed again.

Purge wanted to wipe away the tears running from Ulala's face, but was too engrossed in his dream-self's state that his muscles were locked up. "Then what?" he nervously asked, his voice cracking.... Ulala swallowed back a few sobs and continued.

The stadium started to fall apart, and you were falling...

Purge's section of the stage began to sink into space, the rest of the stadium dissolving into tiny particles like an Alka-Seltzer. He reached his hand up towards Ulala. "Don't leave me..."

Ulala paused, which made Purge able to breathe again. "Is that all?"

Well, it was... the first couple of times.... tonight it was different... I got past the wall, and I caught your hand...

Ulala's hand shot out like a rocket and grabbed Purge just as the ground fell out from underneath him. He held on with one hand, the other one somehow still on the wall, while Purge dangled beneath her like a Christmas ornament. She breathed for the first time in the whole dream and actually smiled... until Purge's hand began slipping...

But I couldn't hold on, and... and...

Purge's fingers slowly slipped from Ulala's grasp.

"And?"

You fell. But... but you... didn't fall, it was me...

As soon as Purge's fingers lost contact with Ulala, he changed into Ulala herself, and fell screaming into the abyss. The original Ulala jumped up, still held back by the barrier wall, and screamed "NO!"... in Purge's voice and body-

&&&

"It was like we had switched places..." Ulala choked. "I turned into you, and I watched myself fall..."

And past that, her throat was so tight she couldn't speak, only try to breathe as her eyes tried not to cry. And there sat Purge, leg asleep because he had rested most of his weight on his bad thigh, unable to move himself after what he had just heard. Ulala dug her face into her quilt, closing her eyes and inadverdently letting her tears go...

Purge slipped her head onto his shoulder and held her while she cried, grateful that she was a quiet sobber and didn't burst his eardrums with every breathe. He sat on his knees like that, rocking back and forth every now and then, which calmed Ulala down a lot. His eyelids got heavy, and he closed them to let them rest... and they didn't open back up...

&&&

Ulala woke up first, like she always did, and 9:24 in the mor- 9:24!!??!!

She gasped and tried to gain a hold of where she was, her entire sense of up, down, left, and right thrown off by waking up in the wrong direction. She was facing the wall her changing tube was attached to, and her quilts were thrown out of alignment. Purge was asleep with his head by the running board, having lost the way out of his bundle-of-clothes bed. She slumped down on the bed, letting an arm hang down and come to rest on Purge's shoulder. Eventually the dizziness subsided, and she was able to sit up straight on her knees just as Purge decided to stretch himself awake.

"Mornin'ngh," Purge grunted halfway through a yawn.

"Morning..." Ulala undid her ponytails and reached under her bed, pulling out a hairbrush. "How long were we up?"

"I don't know about you. I was awake for about 10 minutes or something..." Purge took the hairbrush and, sitting next to Ulala, began to brush her hair for her while she fiddled with her rubber bands. She sighed.

"I'm sorry that I fell apart on you..." Ulala admitted. "I try not to let stuff like that happen too often..."

"It's not illegal, Ulala, you can cry if you want to." Purge set aside a portion of hair for Ulala to work back into a pigtail while he kept brushing. "You're a girl, it's what you do."

She dawdled for a bit with one of the bangs that fell in front of her eye. "Oh, that wasn't sexist."

Purge shrugged. "Mind of a man for you, go figure."

"Like you're a 'man'," she giggled, finally taking her hair and fixing it where she liked it. He scoffed in "disgust" and gave her a pat on the back before standing up.

"Women."

"Boys."

And they both shared a nice, refreshing laugh.

"Let's go get breakfast," Ulala suggested.

&&&

Unfortunately, the door to the cafeteria, and the cafeteria itself, was CLOSED and locked.

"Aw, man!" Purge cried, kicking the door soundly.

Ulala rubbed her temple, studying the reflection cast of herself in Purge's disco suit. They had both changed into the first costume they could find, which (oddly enough) were the ones they were most embarrased to be seen in.

Purge hated simply walking around in his disco suit; that's why he had closed off the stage for his and Ulala's first dance-off. Even now, his eyes darted about the room in a frenzy, covering up what he could of his arms in hope that nobody saw him like this. Once, he patted his hip in search of his sunglasses, but found only plates of cheap, purple psuedo-metal.

Ulala was dressed in her "Super Ulala Suit", the pink dance-energy suit that was rumored to be underwear (and was treated as which, too). Her face was almost as Pink as the suit, and she hung it and slumped her shoulders and hoped NOBODY knew it was her. Maybe they wouldn't, she thought, for she had forgotten to put on her shoes and was at her normal height of 5 feet 6 inches.

"We walked all the way out here half-naked for nothing?!" Purge screamed at the door, his voice deepening strangely as he shouted.

Ulala smacked the door lightly with her fist in guise of actually getting angry. "That's what we get for waking up late... And this, on top of the dance on New Years-"

"Dance?" Purge's head snapped around, his eyebrow halfway up his forehead.

Ulala smacked her forehead. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's-"

But suddenly a part of the wall opened up like the door to a dum-waiter, and a rush of clothes on hangers zoomed by faster than a train. Scared poor Purge out of his wits, too.

"YAH!" He jumped behind Ulala, clutching her waist in shock.

"Purge, don't worry!" Ulala ruffled the hair on his head and explained. "The station's just doing a sweep for laundry." She suddenly stiffened. "Laundry- OH NO! All of my other outfits are on the floor!"

"So?" Purge ejected.

Ulala had no time to explain, for her entire wardrobe (plus Purge's only coat) rushed past them at lightening speed.

And so did they.

"NO!" Ulala shouted as she ran, keeping a close eye on the yellow rubber of her retro suit. "Don't take them, they're not dirty yet!"

Purge swallowed a breath from behind her, just now getting the message and starting to keep up. "You're kidding, right? You can't mean that you don't have one suit of clothes left in your closet?!"

"Not unless you want me going to the New Year's Dance as Pudding!" Ulala answered.

And of course, that made them both run faster. They stampeded through several hallways, running down a cheerleader once without stopping to apologize. They barely even noticed when Ulala's laundry took a different turn from the rest of the loads; they simply turned with it, forced open a door that got in their way, and ran inside.

But they stopped soon enough.

For the room they had landed in was enormous. The ceiling reached high like a movie villains lair, the walls glowing yellow with wonderful neon fringes of orange and blue. The A desk sat in the middle of the enormous space, dwarved by the 20 foot tall doors to who knows where. The opposite wall from them was a giant plexi-glass window, open to the beautiful space sky outside. (Not literally, of course).

Ulala and Purge both were amazed, standing in awe for many a minute before Purge came to his senses. "Where are we?"

"I don't know..." Ulala gasped, the impact of what she was saying not fully hitting Purge. "I've never been in this room before..."

Which, to Ulala, was a big deal, for she knew Space Channel 5 studios like the back of her hand. She took Purge's hand and led him up to the desk, stepping softly as hushing her breathing.

The large oaken desk sheltered an executive leather office chair with a phone and reading lamp built into it... but the desk itself was covered with pictures of Ulala. Newspaper clippings and celuloid photos, even a few pictures that were crudely drawn on scratch paper. There were so many that they formed a 1/2 inch stack on the desk.

Purge shook his head. "Wow."

Ulala stepped back a bit, a chill going down her spine. "Um... this can't be as bad as it looks." She wrapped her arms around Purge in a frightened way, and he returned with a combination hug and shoulder shake.

"I hear music..." This time, he took her hand and roughly dragged her past the desk, following his ears across the length of the room, up the few stairs which led to an elevated part of the floor which sat close to the window, and through a hidden door in the wall.

A Dance-Dance Revolution machine. A special edition Ulala Dance Dance Revolution machine. In a room, all by itself. No fancy wallpaper, not light fixtures, no carpet (floor was concrete), just the dance pad and screen. And as of now, a suffocating Purge and a freaked out Ulala.

"Holy Cow!" Ulala was hanging tightly onto Purge for security, even though the boy was practically begging to be let go. "Whoever owns this room is a freak!"

Purge forced his way out of Ulala's grip and worked her out of the room. "Come on, let's see what else is in here."

&&&

They stepped back into the main "lobby" of the hidden room and stepped through another door... and found the laundry room! A perfectly square area thanks to really good designers, lined with rows upon rows upon rows of combo washer/dryer machines.

Ulala's eyebrow shot up her forehead, Purge doing likewise a few seconds later. "Why would anyone want a door to the laundry room?"

"Maybe it's the guy who does the laundry?" Purge suggested.

Ulala let loose a weak "ha". "Nobody 'does' the laundry here," she rattled off in an arrogant tone. She began walking into the room, trying to take in as much as she could. "It's all done by computer."

Purge scoffed. "Excuse me for not knowing."

Ulala giggled as she heard Purge's footsteps begin to echoe behind her, the younger one trying to keep up. "You're excused."

"Very funn-"

"Wait, over there!"

Ulala rushed to the left side of the room, which was apparently the girl's side of the laundry room. She was able to spot a couple of her friends' (actually, more like people she talked to every now and then) names, scanning for the one name she dreaded as she ran down the alphabet. Q... R... S... T... U....

Ulala. A bright pink washing machine, once again covered with a various assortment of pictures of her. But these were not newspaper clippings, oh no, they were taken pictures. Some of them looked like they came from the security cameras, and a few of them had a Kodak insignia on them, pictures of Ulala in her bed asleep. It stuck out like a soar thumb among the numerous white Sears brand washers, and was softly rumbling with the sound of laundry being dried.

The music from "The Shining" began playing in her mind, and she stepped back once again and grabbed onto Purge's chest for lack of any rational thought. He returned the tight grip, his body slightly rattling from the shaking of his mirror suit. She looked up into his equally frightened, freaked-out eyes. "What are you doing shaking?"

He gulped. "I don't have to be you to know this is totally wrong..."

BING! The machine finished drying, and out popped all of Ulala's clothes, piping hot and sparkly clean. Purge reached down to pick up the clothes, but Ulala caught his hand and pulled it back.

"Nonono, it's okay, the station folds it and puts it back in my room."

Purge waited for this to happen... but it didn't. Even while they watched, another load of laundry finished drying. A series of robot arms dropped from the low ceiling, folded the clothes, packed them into the wall, and shipped them to their appropriate room. He began shaking even harder. "Is y-yours... broken?"

Ulala whimpered and began to do that shrinking thing again, her knees buckling beneath her. Purge tried to hold her up, but he wasn't strong enough to keep her on her feet. Her breathing became shallow and irregular. "I'm being watched by some freak who's messing with my laundry!"

She closed her eyes and felt the muscles in her chest crumpling up like a paper bag. She was shaking like a cold Chihauhau dog, trying hard to convince herself that she wasn't where she thought she was... maybe it would go away... she was having another nightmare, a nightmare about "The Shining"... oh, go away, go away!

Purge, too, was having a morale failure at this point. He was huddled over Ulala, patting and rubbing her back trying to get her to calm down, but she wouldn't. He felt the same shuddering feeling in his chest, and his throat wouldn't allow him to speak; but at the same time, his mind was racing. Who could do this? Who was so powerful within this station? Who had this much contact with Ulala? Who did so much here that he deserved the proverbial director's seat in-

"FUSE!"

Purge's shout came out of nowhere, and it scared Ulala near to death. She leapt out of his arms and scrambled about on the floor, soon being unceremoniasly yanked off of the ground by her shoulder joint.

Purge held tightly to that awkward area where your arm joins your shoulder, just a little bit past the armpit. He shook her roughly, his face both terrified and joyful in an amazed-at-himself sort of way. "Ulala, come on! We have to see whose name is on that desk! Hurry!"

&&&

He once again took control and dragged her behind him, still holding directly to her shoulder joint before his fingers slipped and he began running on his own. Before long, they had reached the main desk, this time facing it from the front, and reading an until-now hidden placard with the name of the owner of both the desk, the office, the laundry room, and all of the Ulala paraphanalia.

KRIKOR ARAM, HEAD DIRECTOR aka "FUSE"

Ulala would've screamed. And she did. But not for that reason.

She did scream because the real Fuse was standing behind his desk, staring at the two of them.

In fact, both Ulala and Purge shouted at the top of their lungs as the gargantuan, stark white, obviously alien Fuse stomped to them. He was a HUGE man, just bordering on seven feet high. His round head had no hair, which didn't help at all, for his piercing yellow eyes shone out from his bleached-white skin like two raging fires. He was dressed in a pure white suit as well, with tiny black buttons on the sleeves and a red tie slicing down his chest.

(Granted, if this is not what you think Fuse would look like, then insert a description of what you think Fuse looks like instead. I just made this thing up on the spot.)

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY OFFICE!?" he wailed, both hands tightly fisted. "You both should know that this is all private property! Neither of you have the right to be here!"

Fuse's hand lashed out and grabbed Ulala by the forearm. He rose his hand to strike her across the face-

"HAI!"

BOOM! Purge's heel slammed across his jawbone, knocking him sideways, unconscious, onto the ground.

Fuse... THE Fuse... or the newest Fuse... a total pervert, violent, obsessive... and Ulala's mentor and boss for as long as she had worked here. One second of terror, as he grabbed her arm and got ready to knock her block off, and then total silence. He was lying on the floor, breathing steady, but not getting up. Purge finally let himself out of his Tai-kwon-do stance and ran to the phone, dialing up Pine and any other Space Police officer he could get a hold of. Her Fuse... The Fuse... was going to be arrested....

All Purge heard was a moan, then a loud THUNK onto the floor.

&&&

"What's going on here?" Michael cried, slamming the door behind him and locking it to make sure the rest of the staff didn't see. He had suddenly been summoned to the room, not long after he'd gotten out of the shower, of all things. There he was, just then getting dressed, just then putting on the aftershave, just then getting his hair halfway toweled of, when BAM! The police are suddenly calling him over the intercom, telling him to report to Fuse's office. That alone was enough to put him in a panic, but was that the last of it? Oh, no!

Fuse's office was a total wreck, with space police officers (oddly enough, most of them 17-year old girls in cowboy hats) searching through walls, desk drawers, filing cabinets, and a few were even carting in clothes from the laundry room! "Hello? Somebody!"

A gloved hand tapped his shoulder, and he spun around. It was Pi- no, Texas, wrong sister. She waved her hand in a "come this way" fashion. "Mr. Jackson, your station's director is being arrested for stalking."

"What?!" he breathed, holding one hand on his head in stress.

Texas sighed and held up several evidence baggies, each with a different picture of Ulala. Michael gulped and rubbed his forehead, already beginning to sweat (or maybe it was just the hair that was still wet). "How long has this been going on?"

"Well, our detectives are working on that right now, but the call was placed into our switchboard an hour ago." Texas swept her hand across the brim of her hat.

He had hired a stalker?! He moaned, remorse, anger, and a few other sensations he couldn't place welling up in his gut. "Who called him in?" Michael asked.

Texas bit her lip and looked with her eyes at the floor. "Well..."

"TEXAS!"

Texas's head snapped up at her sister's voice. "You're wanted, by the way. Over here."

Texas broke into a weak run, Michael following, his stomache knotting. Texas pointed in the direction he was supposed to run, breaking off to meet with her twin to discuss what to do with Fuse. He ran blindly forward and soon found himself on the stairway to Fuse's window... He also found Noize and Purge tending to an unconscious Ulala.

"OH NO!" Michael knelt to her side, Purge resting her head on his lap and Noize patting her hand. "What happened?"

"We don't know!" Noize whined, looking up at Space Michael, panic in his face.

Purge looked up (he was watching Ulala for any signs of her waking). "It happened just after I knocked Fuse out. I think it hit her harder than it did him."

"Oh, man..." Michael lifted Ulala's face and began patting her cheek. "Ulala?" (He said it "You-la-la", Purge noted.) "Come on, baby, wake up. Ulala?"

Noize's weak voice let loose a squeal of anxiety. Purge instinctively put a hand on the boy's shoulder, his eyes still fixed on Ulala. She was still asleep, her face expressionless... But her nose was twitching. He gasped and clutched her tightly, as her face slowly contorted...

&&&

"Ugh..." She coughed a few times, her head spinning, back aching, and her eyes blurry. Her nose stung with the smell of those expensive colognes that, despite being "the best money could buy" still made her nostrils soar and her lungs feel like tarpaper. She felt herself being pushed into a sitting posistion by two different hands, and just phased back into reality as Noize hugged her middle and settled his head onto her shoulder. "(cough cough) Too much- (cough) Aftershave..."

Purge laughed, which made her turn her head to look for him. Michael's voice spoke to her again, this time from the other side of the universe. "Oh, Ulala, you're okay..."

Ulala surveyed the area... a few lingering police officers, including the twins Pine and Texas, still gathered little bits of evidence from here and there and everywhere, while she sat there on the steps with her legs feeling like jelly. She let Michael take her hand and stroke it, head still reeling whenver she tried to talk. "Ulala, are you alright?"

She nodded, immediately clutching her head in her hands. YEOW, THAT HURT! The blood rushed into her brain, which made her eyes tingle, her ears ring, and her breathing momentarily stop.

"Okay, okay, don't hurt yourself Ulala..." Michael still spoke to her, but she kept her eyes on the ground in front of her. "Now, I know you've been through a lot today, Ulala. Do you understand?"

She sighed a weak "Uh huh", sounding embarrased at the sound of her own pitiful wail.

"Okay, now. Purge's gonna take you to your room, okay?"

"Uh huh..."

"You can take the day off tomorrow. Just try and get better."

"Uh huh..."

&&&

Purge, with the help of Michael and Noize, lifted Ulala onto his back and tried to steady himself. It was like trying to balance a sack of... not potatoes, because potatoes were lumpy and tough to handle, while Ulala was soft and completely limp in his arms. He held her bottom half by the shin with his arms while Michael fixed her arms to where she wouldn't fall off.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Ulala..." Michael patted Ulala's forehead gently. "Purge is going to take you to your room now, okay?"

"Okay..." Ulala answered, her eyes just beginning to focus now.

Purge bounced Ulala into a higher spot on his back, making her line up with his center of gravity. It had been a while since he had to give someone a piggy-back ride (the last one had been his younger brother), yet it was still a second nature to him. He marched out of Purge's office and down a few gratefully empty hallways, thankful that Producer Space Michael had basically banished everyone to their rooms earlier today.

About halfway there, he bounced Ulala higher onto his back, once again finding her slipping lower and lower whenver he stepped, only to find she was asleep. He debated in his head as he walked; she he wake her up? It was going to be harder carrying her asleep, but then again, she needed it... or maybe not. She was pretty enough without the beauty slee-

Woah! Where did that come from? Purge shook his head to clear his mind, scolding himself for thinking that, and blushing for no reason.

BOP! He ran headfirst into Ulala's door. "OW! Stupid- guegh- idiot-" He sighed through his nose and, after turning sideways, opened Ulala's door and stepped inside. Her closet was fully stocked now, minus two outfits she still had to collect, and he pondered putting on his coat... nah. He placed Ulala into her bed, working her into a comfortable posistion and tucking the quilt around her.

And dangit, of all times, then she woke up.

"Emm, Purge?" Ulala looked up at the gray-skinned boy, he expression dreamy and vacant. "Oh, hey Purge, how you doin'?"

Still dizzy, he thought, referring to Ulala, not himself. He knelt to her eye level and pushed back some of her hair. "Go back to sleep, Ulala."

"Okay, little Purgie..." Ulala reached out and pulled Purge into a hug, which he tried to resist. "Little Purgie-kins, you my best friend..."

Despite the fact that she was obviously giddy and not thinking straight, a flutter of.... something rushed from Purge's ribs up through his throat like a flock of butterflies. He blushed and, not knowing it at the time, smiled like an idiot and hugged her back. "Thank you, Ulala."

"I... I go bed now, 'night." Ulala turned over and nestled in, letting Purge sink to the floor in a strange sort of stupor. He felt oddly... light, like he was made of something like a cross between a sponge and loose sand, and tingling feeling that went throughout his whole body that he couldnt' understand. He, after pondering it for a while and getting nowhere, decided it was better left until morning and laid down on the shag carpet, not wanting to dare make a bed for himself and risk another laundry fiasco. He fell asleep after a while, his insides warm while his skin stayed icy cold...

DONE! Woah, I'm starting to loose the humor here... Anyway...

I finally got Michael in there! And Texas! Don't know why, I hate them both, they need to die, but anyway... again...

Fuse got arrested, because he always came across as a pervert in Part 2. I think it was pretty safe making him an alien, because I don't know what ethnicity any of you readers are. I don't wanna offend anybody.

I HAVE MORE THAN ONE READER NOW! YES! HAHA! (Does victory dance)