Act II: Hastily-Laid Plans

Zipping against the flow of L.A. traffic wasn't how Arnold J. Rimmer planned to start his hangover. A well-timed laser blast from Ace's cycle held off their more ominous look-alike long enough for them to escape the bar. But all things considered, he'd rather be puking from alcohol abuse than motion sickness.

"So, you're me," the slowly sobering Arnie said to Ace. "And that beefier thing chasing us is also me."

"Yes," Ace said, frustrated at having to chase Spike, who rode with Lister ahead of them. "That's it exactly. And it's come here because it wants to kill you. And me. And any more of us it can find."

"Why?"

"Power. It started when it accidentally killed the Ace Rimmer of Dimension 161. That made it a little stronger. And it's been on a rampage ever since."

Arnie hated the fear he was feeling, even more than the sobriety. He looked back and saw it – saw himself, or at least some version spit out of a funhouse mirror.

The Rimmer giving chase was at least 30 pounds too big for Arnie's beanpole frame; Ace's trademark pompadeur was twisted into a single spit curl. He wore Ace's long, loopy shades, but his mouth was locked into a determined scowl. Whatever this ... thing cared about, Arnold could see he wasn't on the list anymore. He had just one more question for his brighter future self – which he found himself clinging to like a little brother.

"How ... How many of us are left?" he asked Ace.

"Just us, my friend."

"Does he know that?" Ace paused a few moments before coming clean.

"Er, yes. I kind of told him the last time we met up."

"You what?" If Arnold could spare a hand, he'd have slapped himself. The one driving the craft, that is.

"I haven't been doing this very long, alright?" Ace said with a huff. "I'm still you, after all."

Just ahead of them, Lister was using his cel phone.

"Wolfram & Hart, how can I direct your call?" the female American voice answered after Lister dialed the code Spike dictated. Dave figured he had to speak up to be heard over the traffic.

"Hello! I work in the mailroom!" Dave shouted, his Liverpool accent flapping in the breeze. "Spike said to call you and –" The voice cut him off, and sounded annoyed.

"Excuse me, could you please speak English?" the woman answered.

"I am English!" he yelled. "Listen, you stupid bi—" Spike yanked the phone out of his hand and put it to his ear carefully. He knew who would be on the other end of the line.

"Harmony, shut up for a second," he said. "Is Angel there? No? Good. Here's what I want you to do ..."

The third Rimmer was content to keep pace with his two doubles and their friends for the time being. He'd catch up to them soon enough, and then he'd make them – and everybody else – pay for all those schoolyard taunts.

And after that, find some dimensional portal back to his childhood. Just to see the look on Father's face. But he'd have to ditch this Ace persona. And Arnold would be dead. Maybe his middle name ... Yes. Judas, he thought. Judas Rimmer. What better name for the most fearsome bastard in the Universe?

He noticed his prey pulling into one of the seemingly infinite tall mirror-windowed buildings in this damnable burg. Instead of following, though, he dropped back and turned right. Then he hit the thrusters on his craft.

Spike led himself, Lister and the two Rimmers into the Wolfram & Hart lobby, then slowed down enough to pull up alongside Ace. Meanwhile, Lister also noticed the absence of another kind of company.

"Guys, I think we lost him," Dave said, allowing himself to relax again before looking around. "Wow, they really did clear the deck."

"Actually, that's where we're headed," Spike said, taking the moment for a quick smoke and handing one to a slightly confused Ace.

"What is this place?" Ace said, which in turn further confused his counterpart in this dimension.

"You don't know?" Arnold asked. "That wasn't you getting friendly with the corporate muckey-mucks that one day?"

Ace looked down for a second, then held up a finger. "Ohhhh, I get it," He began to explain. "See, that was an Ace Rimmer. Just not-" He felt a sudden weight on his back, followed by some rather sharp lips on his own.

"ACEEYYY!" Harmony yelped gleefully after kissing him. "You're back! I knew you'd come back for me."

"Oh, er, hi, sweetheart," Ace said, re-donning the confident grin he wore for his fans. "Couldn't resist stopping by, but I've got some business to discuss with Spike here." He put Harmony down gently, as she made a petulant face at her ex-boyfriend.

"You mean Mister 'Clear the blooody lobby'?" she said, affecting a horrible British accent, everyone else thought. "And I called Fred and Wesley. They're way mad at you, too. Even if you did call because of Acey." She clung to the taller Rimmer's arm and was about to ask what the big deal was when the screaming started.

"The observation deck," Spike noted at once. "Come on!"

The group, now with Harmony in tow, arrived in time to see the violent demise of the final three of the 10 W&H security troops Spike had dispatched to the deck. The blood seemed to shimmer on Judas Rimmer's flight coat and laser pistol. As they approached, Ace leaned back to whisper to the shivering Arnold.

"I need you to take the wheel," Ace said carefully before switching the power off. "If this turns into a total cock-up, though, flip this red switch." He pointed at a small toggle on his craft's console, while Arnold looked at him incredulously.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. "Why not just let the big tosser win?"

Ace smiled and dismounted the bike, and Arnold again felt like a little brother. "You'll see why."

"Give them to me," Judas said, pointing at the Rimmers. "And I may just-"

"Just piss off!" Spike said as he lunged at the dark Rimmer, this time connecting with a haymaker, then an uppercut to the plexus. A right uppercut knocked this Rimmer's sunglasses off, which gave the vampire some satisfaction, before feeling the unmistakable thud of a rifle barrel slam across his jaw.

What do they feed these spacemen? He thought before falling back. Looking up, he saw Ace jump into the fray, then a red flash that seemed to stop upon reaching him. Then the man in the Elvis shades fell at the feet of his bigger counterpart.

Judas picked the Guardian of the Universe up by the neck.

"Oh, balls," Ace coughed.