Disclaimer:
This is the fic that I started before we met
Now that you've read it, leaves me with a kind of regret
No disrespect, but Nintendo might get a bit upset
Cause what I wrote really isn't what they'd want to permit
Fic that I started before we met
I hope you like it, else I'll be filled up with regret
All due respect to the people on Fan Fiction dot net
Cause what I wrote really isn't what you'd ever expect
Well, OBJECTION! And other such phrases
Haven't read a fic like this in ages
To skip such a fic would be just outrageous
Though the plot as of late is just weird and aimless
DoOon't own don't OOOOOWN, DooOOn't OOOOOoooown. NOOOOoooo. NOOOO.
DoOon't own don't OOOOOWN, DooOOn't OOOOOoooown. NOOOOoooo. Don't Own.
Fifty bushels of winner-stuff to the first person that identifies the parodied song!
Speak Now or Forever Hold Your Turnabout
Chapter 4
"I'm invited to a… what now?"
"A 'pre-wedding reception'" Benvolio explained. "According to Chancellor, it is a venue similar to a bachelor party that both men and women are invited to partake in." He shrugged. "It is, so Chancellor says, not as rowdy as a bachelor party, but it should still be fun. Will you come?"
Jaden Friday stared at the yellow-clad attorney with a look that oozed lack of understanding. "Why?" He asked, unable to comprehend the invitation. What is with these people? I MURDERED SOMEONE FOR GOD'S SAKE! LEAVE ME ALONE!
"Well… our talks have always given me relief, and I feel that, regardless of your previous, murderous actions, you have become well acquainted with a number of people in our social circle… it only seems right to me. Also…" Ben cleared his throat. "I do not know many people in this country yet, so I have been inviting most every one that I have worked with at some point to come."
"Ooh… a hoarding instinct in response to a feeling of alienation and loneliness… interesting…" Friday had actually gotten pretty used to being seen as the go-to under-the-radar psychiatrist for the Boston legal system, and while he didn't understand why people seemed to take his advice so often, he couldn't help but feel flattered (annoyed as hell, yes, but flattered as well). "Am I really allowed to leave prison for this kind of thing? Seems to defeat the purpose, eh, Mr. Manners?"
"You would be kept under much supervision, and probably be handcuffed if not leg-cuffed for the entire time," Ben explained. "And while it is a little odd to allow a prisoner to go to a party, one where practically every member of our legal system will be seems the most logical one to have you at, no?"
"Logic," Friday spat, stifling a chuckle. "Mr. Manners, I gave up on logic a long time ago… ever since I met your best man." Death! Death!
"I think you will fit right in then," Ben replied honestly with a smile.
-Thenue and Aegis. 9/5. 12:35 pm.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T BOOK SUCH A LARGE NUMBER OF PEOPLE ON SUCH SHORT NOTICE?" Cassie screamed into her telephone. "Are there honestly so many bar-mitzvah's, birthday parties, business meetings, and concerts going on in Boston right now that you can't set aside a room for a hundred people to stand around, talk each other up, and find out if its possible to swim in gelatin? ... you say that's the main reason why? That's understandable, I guess, but doesn't the fact that this is the Krasivaya-Paraclete wedding party change anything? No? Did I mention that Chancellor Moore is going to be there too? … Still nothing, even though you desperately wish there was now? Typical. No, thank you for your time. No… no. Bye bye. Bye bye. GOODBYE." She hung up the phone. "All right, Chance, it's safe to come in now."
"I really shouldn't need permission to enter my own office," Chance laughed, practically diving into his uber-epic-angelically soft chair of gushy plushy cushioning…ness. "And I'll take it that's another venue crossed off the list?"
"Not just another one…" Cassie said, sighing. "The last one. Unless we run into a sudden deus ex machina, we're not having a bachelor party for Ben."
"We're not having a bachelor party for Ben at all… it's a pre-wedding reception," Chancellor emphasized, still convinced there was a difference. "And while it may not be a deus ex machina… there is one last place I know that might work." He whipped out his cell phone, stared at it for a good five minutes. "I'm just not sure if it's a good idea…"
"Why? What could possibly go wrong?"
"So many things I can't even count…"
"Try me."
"Fire raining from the sky, serial killers popping up left and right, wrath of biblical proportions, dogs and cats living together, MASS HYSTERIA!"
"Yet we still need a place to hold the party," Cassie insisted.
Chancellor sighed. "So the party is more important than the world, is it? All right, fine then. Hopefully 2012 won't come early." He dialed the phone, gulping nervously as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up.
"Hey… Tanya? Is there any chance we can use your house for Ben's party?"
-Tanya's House. 9/5. 5:15 pm.
"Wh… how…" Cassie stuttered. "What kind of terrible things do I have to do to be able to afford a place like this?"
Tanya's house wasn't a mansion, per se, but it was certainly bigger than the average suburban fare. The house was two stories tall (not including the furnished basement) and composed largely of brick, with a grand, sweeping front lawn that had as its focal point, dividing the walkway up to the door, a miniaturized version of Moscow's statue of Peter the Great (the one with the ships… not the horse. Google it.)
"You… honestly gave all this up just because she had a hard time prosecuting you?" Cassie asked, mouth open in awe and disbelief. "I mean... hell, I even want to marry Tanya now…" (Authors note: So do I. Is that weird?)
"I have a pretty intense problem with relationship drama," Chance admitted. "The moment I start causing someone pain, I can't handle it… you know that. Besides…" he smiled sadly. "We'd decided that… if we ever moved in together, she'd sell this place and move into my apartment."
"Two months and you'd already talked about moving in together?"
"It's been not even two months with Ben, and they're getting married." Chance shook his head. "Tanya moves fast… it's a little intimidating at times, actually." He frowned. "A bit disappointed you didn't rant about how dumb it was of Tanya to sell this place and move in with me, by the way. Just thought I'd bring it up."
"No, I thought about it," Cassie assured Chance, ringing the doorbell that they'd (finally!) reached. "But your relationship- while wonderful, mind you- never made any sense to me in the slightest, so I just kind of… accepted it."
Chance nodded slowly. "That's what was so great about it," he said, too soft for Cassie to hear.
Cassie rang the doorbell again impatiently, and soon enough the two were greeted by Tanya (who, incidentally, pulled off the 'just wearing an old t-shirt and shorts while working around the house' look quite well). "Sorry…" she said quickly, apologizing for both her and the state of the inside. "I've just been straightening down, trying to figure out where we'll put everything."
"It's straightening up," Cassie said quickly, hugging the prosecutor and heading indoors with her. "But on to more important things. Now, let's see… there's going to be timpano, so we'll need an area large enough to hold a fairly wide table… unless we cut it up before hand which means we'll need a long table, and while we're talking tables…" They walked away quickly, searching the house and picturing just where everything would go.
"I'm here too!" Chance called quietly, to no reply. Smiling, he took a look around the foyer, tempted to slide down the not-insignificant slope of it like he'd used to… though was afraid that this time would, of course, be the one time he ran into the grandfather clock. He laughed to himself, and ran to catch up with the two women.
"That's amazing!" He heard Cassie yell from the backyard (she'd found the pool). "We won't be needing an above ground one then, will we? Though are you sure you're ok with draining it?"
"For a Jell-O pool? Of course!" Tanya laughed. "And while we're on the subject, I have to admit, Chance," she said, finally acknowledging his presence, "you do know me."
"I do my best, always, the second time around… sometimes," Chance said with a comical bow. "Just out of curiosity, how are you planning on draining this thing?"
"Well, you see…" Tanya said with a smile. "I've wanted a pool full of gelatin Moore than Paris wanted Helen of Troy… so I had the pool equipped with an easy draining mechanism." She pointed towards the bottom of the deep end, where a watertight hatch was. "All I'll have to do is go down to the basement, pull a switch, and the water will go directly into a reservoir! Then, once we clean all the Jell-O out, we can switch a pump on and fill it back up."
"That's brilliant!" Cassie cheered. "Convoluted, yes, but brilliant. I'll need to change the order slightly, but they won't mind… it's for Chancellor, after all."
"Oh… yes," Tanya said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "You've actually become a bit of a celebrity, haven't you Chance? I read a story about you in the paper today."
"Oh, was that published already?" Chance asked with interest. "I was meaning to read that… surprised Melissa got it out so fast."
"I'm surprised you told a random reporter so much about your personal life…" Tanya began. "Especially seeing as, when we were dating, I never heard anything about it."
"… Again, haven't read it so… what did she write about?"
"You don't know?" Tanya asked with stern disbelief. "Weren't you there when she was asking questions, or were you conveniently mind jacked?"
"Ugh… you played that game?" Chance responded.
"It wasn't as bad as Yahtzee said it was," Tanya insisted. "And I believe I asked you a question… what gives?"
"Don't take it personally, Tanya," Cassie said absentmindedly, having pulled a tape measure from who-knows-where and begun measuring the pool. "The reporter was an old girlfriend of his, she didn't have to ask any questions."
"Oh… an old girlfriend, of course," Tanya said, caught off guard. "Because… you've had those. And I totally knew about it."
"You never told me about any of your old boyfriends," Chance defended quickly.
"I never had any… um… well," Tanya cleared her throat. "It's just that I spent most of my time in Russia studying and, when I came over here, no one really ever…" She gasped falsely. "Ah! I just remembered, I left the oven on! I've got to go clean the bathroom, then!" She smiled an apology. "Take your time, and then you can see yourselves out if you'd like. Da sveedanya!" She hurried off quickly.
"Da sveedanya…" Chancellor called back with perfect pronunciation. Cassie, always one to pick up on such obvious signals, stopped measuring the pool and hugged Chance. "You guys are going to be ok, right?" She asked with an overly girlish frown. " I'd hate to have to pick sides, you know."
"It'll be all right," Chance assured her with a chuckle. "Mommy and daddy may fight from time to time, but we'll always love you, ok?"
"Ok," Cassie said, hugging Chance once more and going back to measuring. Chance shivered. I expected at least a daylong rant about that, and instead she answers 'ok?' What is going on in my life right now?"
You honestly don't know, Chancy? His reflection in the pool scolded him. Come on… you're supposed to be observant. It's the one thing I can actually use to brag about you to my friends!
"You brag constantly and you know it," Chance replied, taking care not to let Cassie hear.
Fair enough, Chancy, his face smiled. But in all honesty, didn't you see this coming? You built a close circle of friends in a relatively small time, with each and every member of that circle used to the fact that Tanya and you were an 'item'. His reflection shook his head at him. Now that's its over, there's bound to be quite a bit of shock involved, don't you think, Chancy?
"Maybe…" Chance admitted begrudgingly. "But I thought Tanya and I were fine, you know? Where is the sudden you-never-told-me-anything-when-we-were-dating-ness coming from?" Chancellor's vocabulary was, as you could probably tell, incredibly well versed.
How would I know, Chancy?
"Because you're supposed to know everything I don't know!" Chance said, a bit too loudly.
"You all right over there, Chance?" Cassie asked, now miraculously in possession of a depth gauge. (Don't ask. I mean it. Don't ask.)
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," he called, feeling a little ridiculous. He shot his face a dirty look, to which his reflection only smiled. To an onlooker (of which, thank God, there were none) the transition looked incredibly strange.
Incidentally, Chancy, while I'm nagging… you should really get some help. It hasn't been this bad in a while, you know?
"No," Chance stressed. "While, admittedly, you may be right, we made an agreement, remember?"
"You made an agreement… with your face?" The university psychiatrist asked, writing rapidly in his notebook. "Fascinating… you realize such behavior is currently unknown to psychoanalytic science? With your permission, I believe this merits further research insofar as to find what cerebral alteration produced such a reflex."
"I'm not going to let you use me as a guinea pig just because you don't know what's wrong with me, Dr. Arkham." A young Chancellor said, staring up at the office ceiling from the ever-so-clichéd red sofa.
Dr. Arkham winced at the bluntness of the statement, but did not back down. "Paranoid delusions of people using you… a feeling of alienation, not to mention the voice… yes, that's about right." He cleared his throat, tapping his notebook on the knee. "I have to say, Chancellor, you're the best functioning schizophrenic I've ever met."
"We are not schizophrenic!" Chance insisted.
"We?"
"Right! We. Like the Victorian We? Which actually just means I?"
"Chancellor, can we get past such paltry verbal exercises? You just revealed to me that you made a covenant with your face." Dr. Arkham sighed, trying to show pity for Chance. "Do you simply expect me to glaze that over with the simple retort of 'we are not schizophrenic?' I mean… seriously now."
Chancellor sighed, looking into the mirror in the doctor's office. He's got a point, Chancy, his face scolded. Maybe you should tell the nice man what we talked about? He's only trying to help you."
Chancellor groaned. "Fine…" He rolled his eyes. "So… my face and I… we sort of made a deal not to talk about my relationship with Melissa."
"You agreed not to talk to yourself about your girlfriend?"
"With my face," Chancellor corrected.
"With your face… of course," Dr. Arkham nodded, scribbling in his note pad furiously. "And… why is that, exactly?"
"She doesn't like her."
"Your girlfriend doesn't like your face?"
"NO," Chancellor griped, unable to see what was so confusing. "My face doesn't like Melissa… and we've agreed that since I'm not going to break up with her regardless of what she thinks, that we're just not going to talk about it. Puts less stress on our relationship, you know?"
"When you say your relationship… you mean the one between you and your face?"
"YES," Chance groaned. "You're not playing tic-tac-toe on that thing, are you? Try and pay attention, please."
"I've been paying resolute attention to every single utterance… including the grunting conversations you've been having with yourself while your mouth is closed." He snapped his pad closed. "In my professional opinion, Chancellor, your girlfriend was right to suggest you see me. It would appear that you have a case of schizophrenia that threatens to develop into full-fledged dissociative identity disorder if left unchecked. You haven't been experiencing any significant memory losses recently, have you? Sudden skips forward in time?"
"Nope…" Chance assured, shaking his head. "Especially since I stopped going to frat parties."
"Good… then we've still got a Chance to wrestle this thing in before it gets out of hand." The doctor rose from his seat, motioning for Chancellor to do the same. "I believe we should begin meeting on a weekly, if not more frequent, basis. What time should I meet you, then?"
"6:00 at Fondue Stew's," Chancellor told Melissa over the phone. Chancellor had finally settled on a date for the party: the upcoming Friday, just two days before the actual wedding. "The pre-wedding reception doesn't start until 8:00, but I figured we'd want to get a pretty sizeable dinner down first, you know?"
"That sounds just like you," Melissa giggled. "Oh, and I probably won't be there until 6:20, seeing as you're going to be late anyway, ok?"
"Works for me," Chance said. "Though now I might be even later than usual… you shouldn't have said anything."
"My mistake," Melissa said in all seriousness. "I won't get there until 6:40 then."
"Melissa," Chance whined.
She laughed. "Later, Chancellor."
"Bye," Chance laughed, snapping the phone shut. (Chancellor had, somehow, found the one flip phone still sold on the market, and made a show of clapping it shut whenever he was done talking. He figured that this, more than any sentence starting with 'young whippersnappers' signified his unwillingness to change.)
He looked in his bathroom mirror, checking, for the first time in years, his reflection to see if he looked ok. This isn't a good idea his face told him.
"Like I care what you think," he said aloud.
You do remember what happened last time, right? What I warned you about?
Chance gulped. "You wouldn't… you wouldn't do that again, would you?"
His face looked at him sternly. It's always a possibility, isn't it, Chancy? She said menacingly. Chance looked away quickly, smacking himself across the cheek for good measure.
I'm in control, he said to himself. Of course, he couldn't be sure which voice had said it.
-Tanya's House. 9/9. 8:20 pm.
"It's about time you two showed up!" Cassie said, answering the door to let Chancellor and Melissa in. "Didn't you meet like three hours ago? I don't see how it could take you that long to eat, unless Stew spilled it all over the floor and you decided to lick it up instead of asking for Moore!"
"You know we didn't even get to the restaurant until 7:10," Chance said. "What's eating you? You can't be mad at me yet, right?" He chuckled.
"It's not you…" Cassie admitted. "It's just… all our well-laid plans have gone to waste."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Chance asked, nervous.
-Main Room.
"I wanted to thank you for seriously…" SNAP! "Mother!... for inviting me, guys," Liam Sirius said as he sliced roast beef for the party's guests.
"What was that?" Chance asked.
"It's called being passive aggressive, Chance," Liam drolled. "I thought you of all people would seriously… ah damn it," SNAP! "WHY?... would understand it."
"No, I got the passive aggressiveness… very well done, by the way," Chance complimented. "I was more wondering why you're randomly snapping that rubber band against your wrist."
"Oh… that," Liam shrugged, pointing out the hors d'oeuvres tray to another guest. "It's for speech therapy. Apparently my speech pattern was getting obnoxious, so my parents had me go. Now every time I use the word 'seriously' incorrectly or unnecessarily, I've got to do that. Negative reinforcement and such." He shook his head. "But seriously, there's a whole lot worse I could be doing, I seriously don't" SNAP! "SEE!… why it had to come to this."
"It was getting kind of annoying," Cassie offered. "And besides, from the sound of it, you're already improving!"
"Thanks," Liam said, still clearly not amused. "And before you say anything, Cassandra, I did try to get off work today. I got the hint."
"It wasn't about you, Liam," Cassie said quickly and almost apologetically. "You know I like having you around… it's just…"
"Everywhere I go, someone dies," Liam finished. "I understand."
"Good…" Cassie said softly. "Because I wouldn't want you to think…"
"Well since you're here," Chance interrupted quickly, sensing the conversation could only get Moore awkward from there, "you can at least try and knock off someone we want to die. Unless Cassie's been hiding something from me, it hasn't happened yet."
Liam's face brightened a little. "You know, I'd seriously never" SNAP! "THOUGHT!... about trying to channel my powers before… this could actually be pretty interesting."
"That's the spirit!" Cassie encouraged. "Now who should we try it out on?"
"We shouldn't try it out on anyone, should we?" Melissa said quietly. " I mean… isn't wishing for someone to die just horrible?"
Chance smiled. "We're just having fun, Melissa," he comforted her. "We don't actually think someone's going to…"
"Chancellor! Chancellor Moore, is that you?"
Melissa and Chance's eyes widened, and darted towards the voice. "HIM," they both said at once.
Author's note
Surprise! I did write another chapter, I wasn't lying!
Also, 300 additional pecks of winner-stuff to the person who correctly guesses who Melissa and Chance both want to die.
Character In-depth: Dr. Arkham
Keen readers will recognize Dr. Arkham's lines as being from the very first chapter of this story! He's the doctor who analyzed Chance. Since Chancellor's back-story is going to be pretty important to this case, it's important you know that.
Questions:
Where's the name come from? : Arkham, Massachusetts is a fictional town where H.P. Lovecraft set a lot of his stories. Since these stories involve people learning truths they ought not learn and then going insane, it fits for a psychiatrist. Later on, the Batman series used Arkham as the name for their asylum, so either connection works, really.
Does he have a first name? : Sure. It's Iago. Like the parrot.
Middle name? : Would you believe Gottfried?
No. : Well fine. But that's what it is.
Is he the person that Chance and Melissa want dead? : Well that'd be spoiling it now, wouldn't it? But no. (Ah crap, I just… oh well.)
Until next time, stay Amaxing, Moore-ons!
(Get it? Because you're all reading… I'll work on it.)