For a single individual like Ninurta, life was fairly simple. A person acquired what he-or-she needed in a manner best-suited
by utilising the skills of surviving that-that person had gathered through living.
A snake eating it's own tail, Muckles would have preferred in her own way.
A child living on a farm matures into a farming-savvie individual who knows the seasons and where to place the best crop.
In the snoring Gun-Man's case, a kid brought-up in conflict knows whether to damage his enemy in order to gain information
or to eliminate that foe to further his goals.
And once again -to Tibbs' annoyance, it was Ninurta's aptitude to deliver violence for personal preservation that had to be
called upon to hopefully solve the Time-Manager's predicament.
The truth of it was -and one that those who'd assigned Tibbs with the mission had skirted around due to the obtuse aftertaste
of discussing it, everything we know and will know, everything life has created and offers in the future, everything...
relies on the grizzled, snoring man's unique and yet, mephitic prowess of decision-making.
Maybe to the flame-mesmerised Man-Girl sitting beside the deep-in-thought-Vithian, such an art of judgement comes in a
child-like grasp of their immediate surroundings and consequences of his actions are either left neglected inside that black
-maned head or just never contemplated.
But Ninurta's walk in life holds larger strides and his effects are deeper. He had died and returned, he had the ability to decide
against a cardinal, unwavering ruling of a reality and enforce his contrasting determination into overiding what could never be.
To the Great Council's horror, this nobody-humanoid with the lop-sided grin and itchy trigger-finger had become transcendental.
Mentally shaking his mind away from the first time he and his people had discovered that such a devastating reality existed,
Tibbs re-gathered his thoughts on how to explain what would be the most dangerous endeavour of anyone sat around the
campfire could ever imagine, Tibbs reflected on his time at the Hall of Owls and the adjudication of the Great Council.
Life isn't simple when you're dealing with trillions-upon-trillions of individual lives and maintaining fairly-impartial balance
throughout the incalculable realities that encompasses those lives. Time will always endure, but the Great Council had
decreed at the beginning of the latter births of the universes that their administering care must have a cadence that chiefly
favoured living beings.
Vithians, the powerful arm of time-advocacy, agreed that with this decision came many obstacles, sentient life in itself was
a debatable concept and what is valid as an actuality. That confused and troubling conversation is still going on within the
ornate Gallic-stone walls of the hallowed place where Tibbs had patiently waited for his orders and he recalled he'd been
disappointed that he hadn't been able to bring Mucklebones along for the visit.
Now as Tibbs patted his wife's thigh and offered her a kind smile, the Vithian couldn't help-but to be drawn to the rising
and falling of Ninurta's breathing chest, an excellent example of the pulse of existence -if there ever was one.
The conversation from his time with the Perfect Nine and himself floated in his mind as Tibbs cleaned his little round
spectacles and looked at the sleeping man that shouldn't be.
...............................
"It is without doubt, the most abominable situation we find ourselves in..." the tall hooded figure said from his marble-carved
seat in the chamber. "...To become aware of such an issue at this stage brings home why I suggested terminating that universe
at it's accouchement."
It was the one thing that... as his wife and probably what the Gun-Man would say, that really pissed Tibbs off and that was that
these chancellors didn't have names and all looked the same. So the smaller Vithian inwardly called him 'Haughty'.
"I agree, but can we not discuss options to negate this situation and look to maintain our directorate?" said the identical being
sat across from the former. Tibbs labeled him 'Flaccid' and forced his features to not show his boorish decision.
Standing up to deliver his opinion, one of the Perfect Nine stated "A universe in jeopardy is one-thing, but to ignore the cause
is to willfully diminish our authority and place other macrocosms in peril as well. I say we counter this unknown force with what
we may have at-hand, hence I requested Tibbs to this meeting."
'Jobs-Worth' -Tibbs titled this one and felt the daunting realisation of what they might ask of him.
The one who was all-for wiping out some un-said universe somewhere, leaned forward and from the direction of his shadowed
cowl, Tibbs believed he was being examined.
"A terrible force... a force known as the Final Mainyu, from a reality we agreed to banish it to, as now mustered itself to attempt
to break through into another for reasons of conquest. We believe that a scheme to take over the running of space-time for
alluvial reasons is underway and displace this senate of it's power....".
'Haughty' leaned closer and hissed in a way that made all of Tibbs' nightmares cling together in fear.
"...Hear me Vithian, this cannot be."
The temperature in the sky-high hall was similar to what polar bears enjoy when National Geographic aren't fudging the
climate-narrative as the giant in the black robe perused the paltry custodian before him.
"Do you have such a contradictory influence, Sir?" the viper-tone from the dark hood asked.
A fourth of the Nine waved a finger to indicate he had something to say and the sweating Tibbs swallowed to show his relief.
These big-boys really put you on the spot Tibbs thought as he turned to hear what would be said next and somewhere in the
back of his mind, a thought began with 'if I was Ninu...' and fell away as this tall-being began his address.
"You know the whereabouts of Boy In A Dress, yes...?" the velvet-toned Time Referee asked and Tibbs saw that the speaker's
long fingers were held out in willingness to accept an answer. "...The anomaly could surely assist you in your mission"
he supplemented enthusiastically.
It had been a while since Tibbs had kept track of the red-dress Man-Girl and even ignoring a sigh of exasperation from 'Haughty',
he felt it prudent to nod in accord with the kindly-sounding questioner. Tibbs unconsciously arranged his beard hanging over the
front of his own robe to imply he still held some semblance of control.
"That creature causes more damage than its worth. He's a shame on this Council" Haughty sneered and sat back on a chair that
must have taken a thousand of years to carve. 'Aye... and probably by below-minimum-wage buggers' Muckles interjected in Tibbs'
mind.
The doubtful member of the Perfect Nine seemed to fall into a sulk and that was fine with the smaller man struggling to keep his
thoughts on the task-in-hand.
"We in the Council will provide you with anything you need and give you full authority over the... Boy In A Dress' 'Mr. Silver-Tongue'
said and Tibbs noted that BIAD's name didn't sit well with the ten-feet-something tall Judges in the room. The Man-Girl was something
they had never counted on and his singular existence had been begrudgingly tolerated for aeons.
The Final Mainyu will not debate or comply to anything offered..." he continued, "...The leader -a grotesque known as 'Ba'al' leads
an army of lethal killers, malevolent shamans and the finest of scientists of his current reality".
Silver-Tongue turned to face his peers and added: "There is a mythology from the beginning of time that he and his people cannot
be stopped"
The cold silence of contemplation held sway in the brightly-lit lodgings of perspicacity as it sunk in how buggered these elite
Time-conciliators actually were. To them, force came in the chess-play of astute manipulation of an adversary's dialectic,
a manner of control that only higher-minds can fully appreciate.
"May... may I say suggest someone else?" Tibbs stammered as he felt some-sort of plan was being constructed between himself
and the Council of the Perfect Nine. Well, really between the Council, really.
Nine empty cowls all faced to where the little man -who had the audacity to clean his spectacles during this existence-shattering
convocation, now lingered for the wisdom that made Tibbs their go-to-guy. "There's someone else who would be a good
confederate for this situation" he said lightly.
If the coldness that 'Haughty' had caused during his snooty-petulance had caused the Vithian to tremble, the deep brumal that
dropped into the Hall of Owls painted an immediate frost onto Tibbs' beard as he dared himself to suggest who he wanted.
"Do not say his name here Vithian, he contaminates this sacred edifice with just thinking of his existence" came the snarled
-warning from another of the Council. This one had remained silent up to now and sat in the centre of the congregation.
Tibbs set his jaw to show that even though he could understand the Council's disapproval of Ninurta's policies of living, the man
who courted violence like an old-friend was really their only tiller for this voyage. And in his own strange way, Tibbs missed the
angry troublemaker.
"I want Ninurta to escort us on this mission" he said and made a silent prayer to Muckles' Gods that his voice didn't waver.
"HE'S A FREAKIN' KILLER OF THE WORST ORDER!" 'Haughty screamed and a sudden loud muttering came from the other eight
of the Chancellors. As Tibbs watched the once-slow, deliberate house of alleged enlightened and judicious Time-Conquerors
transform into a bunch of aloof idiots throwing a hissy-fit, the diminutive Vithian placed his hands behind his back and repeated
loudly -yet calmly "I want Ninurta to lead this mission and fix your problem... do you hear me?"
The silence was similar to the air around the campfire as each of the individual members of the Council of the Perfect Nine came
to terms with what they had resisted since the kid once called 'Carpenter' had first picked up a weapon.
Control is only a matter of perception.
With a simple comment like 'take yer time, runt", an entirely different slant can set existence on another route and unless you have
the will to command the reigns of such a primitive beast, everything can go tits-up. Tibbs smiling from this thoughts of that time at
the Hall of Owls now looked over the firelight and realised that snoring man with the hat over his face held such qualities.
He lovingly patted his wife's thigh again and inwardly, patted his own shoulder for his pansophy. He'd chosen wisely.
"Anyone here ever heard of the Final Mainyu?" Tibbs asked across the flickering flames.
by utilising the skills of surviving that-that person had gathered through living.
A snake eating it's own tail, Muckles would have preferred in her own way.
A child living on a farm matures into a farming-savvie individual who knows the seasons and where to place the best crop.
In the snoring Gun-Man's case, a kid brought-up in conflict knows whether to damage his enemy in order to gain information
or to eliminate that foe to further his goals.
And once again -to Tibbs' annoyance, it was Ninurta's aptitude to deliver violence for personal preservation that had to be
called upon to hopefully solve the Time-Manager's predicament.
The truth of it was -and one that those who'd assigned Tibbs with the mission had skirted around due to the obtuse aftertaste
of discussing it, everything we know and will know, everything life has created and offers in the future, everything...
relies on the grizzled, snoring man's unique and yet, mephitic prowess of decision-making.
Maybe to the flame-mesmerised Man-Girl sitting beside the deep-in-thought-Vithian, such an art of judgement comes in a
child-like grasp of their immediate surroundings and consequences of his actions are either left neglected inside that black
-maned head or just never contemplated.
But Ninurta's walk in life holds larger strides and his effects are deeper. He had died and returned, he had the ability to decide
against a cardinal, unwavering ruling of a reality and enforce his contrasting determination into overiding what could never be.
To the Great Council's horror, this nobody-humanoid with the lop-sided grin and itchy trigger-finger had become transcendental.
Mentally shaking his mind away from the first time he and his people had discovered that such a devastating reality existed,
Tibbs re-gathered his thoughts on how to explain what would be the most dangerous endeavour of anyone sat around the
campfire could ever imagine, Tibbs reflected on his time at the Hall of Owls and the adjudication of the Great Council.
Life isn't simple when you're dealing with trillions-upon-trillions of individual lives and maintaining fairly-impartial balance
throughout the incalculable realities that encompasses those lives. Time will always endure, but the Great Council had
decreed at the beginning of the latter births of the universes that their administering care must have a cadence that chiefly
favoured living beings.
Vithians, the powerful arm of time-advocacy, agreed that with this decision came many obstacles, sentient life in itself was
a debatable concept and what is valid as an actuality. That confused and troubling conversation is still going on within the
ornate Gallic-stone walls of the hallowed place where Tibbs had patiently waited for his orders and he recalled he'd been
disappointed that he hadn't been able to bring Mucklebones along for the visit.
Now as Tibbs patted his wife's thigh and offered her a kind smile, the Vithian couldn't help-but to be drawn to the rising
and falling of Ninurta's breathing chest, an excellent example of the pulse of existence -if there ever was one.
The conversation from his time with the Perfect Nine and himself floated in his mind as Tibbs cleaned his little round
spectacles and looked at the sleeping man that shouldn't be.
...............................
"It is without doubt, the most abominable situation we find ourselves in..." the tall hooded figure said from his marble-carved
seat in the chamber. "...To become aware of such an issue at this stage brings home why I suggested terminating that universe
at it's accouchement."
It was the one thing that... as his wife and probably what the Gun-Man would say, that really pissed Tibbs off and that was that
these chancellors didn't have names and all looked the same. So the smaller Vithian inwardly called him 'Haughty'.
"I agree, but can we not discuss options to negate this situation and look to maintain our directorate?" said the identical being
sat across from the former. Tibbs labeled him 'Flaccid' and forced his features to not show his boorish decision.
Standing up to deliver his opinion, one of the Perfect Nine stated "A universe in jeopardy is one-thing, but to ignore the cause
is to willfully diminish our authority and place other macrocosms in peril as well. I say we counter this unknown force with what
we may have at-hand, hence I requested Tibbs to this meeting."
'Jobs-Worth' -Tibbs titled this one and felt the daunting realisation of what they might ask of him.
The one who was all-for wiping out some un-said universe somewhere, leaned forward and from the direction of his shadowed
cowl, Tibbs believed he was being examined.
"A terrible force... a force known as the Final Mainyu, from a reality we agreed to banish it to, as now mustered itself to attempt
to break through into another for reasons of conquest. We believe that a scheme to take over the running of space-time for
alluvial reasons is underway and displace this senate of it's power....".
'Haughty' leaned closer and hissed in a way that made all of Tibbs' nightmares cling together in fear.
"...Hear me Vithian, this cannot be."
The temperature in the sky-high hall was similar to what polar bears enjoy when National Geographic aren't fudging the
climate-narrative as the giant in the black robe perused the paltry custodian before him.
"Do you have such a contradictory influence, Sir?" the viper-tone from the dark hood asked.
A fourth of the Nine waved a finger to indicate he had something to say and the sweating Tibbs swallowed to show his relief.
These big-boys really put you on the spot Tibbs thought as he turned to hear what would be said next and somewhere in the
back of his mind, a thought began with 'if I was Ninu...' and fell away as this tall-being began his address.
"You know the whereabouts of Boy In A Dress, yes...?" the velvet-toned Time Referee asked and Tibbs saw that the speaker's
long fingers were held out in willingness to accept an answer. "...The anomaly could surely assist you in your mission"
he supplemented enthusiastically.
It had been a while since Tibbs had kept track of the red-dress Man-Girl and even ignoring a sigh of exasperation from 'Haughty',
he felt it prudent to nod in accord with the kindly-sounding questioner. Tibbs unconsciously arranged his beard hanging over the
front of his own robe to imply he still held some semblance of control.
"That creature causes more damage than its worth. He's a shame on this Council" Haughty sneered and sat back on a chair that
must have taken a thousand of years to carve. 'Aye... and probably by below-minimum-wage buggers' Muckles interjected in Tibbs'
mind.
The doubtful member of the Perfect Nine seemed to fall into a sulk and that was fine with the smaller man struggling to keep his
thoughts on the task-in-hand.
"We in the Council will provide you with anything you need and give you full authority over the... Boy In A Dress' 'Mr. Silver-Tongue'
said and Tibbs noted that BIAD's name didn't sit well with the ten-feet-something tall Judges in the room. The Man-Girl was something
they had never counted on and his singular existence had been begrudgingly tolerated for aeons.
The Final Mainyu will not debate or comply to anything offered..." he continued, "...The leader -a grotesque known as 'Ba'al' leads
an army of lethal killers, malevolent shamans and the finest of scientists of his current reality".
Silver-Tongue turned to face his peers and added: "There is a mythology from the beginning of time that he and his people cannot
be stopped"
The cold silence of contemplation held sway in the brightly-lit lodgings of perspicacity as it sunk in how buggered these elite
Time-conciliators actually were. To them, force came in the chess-play of astute manipulation of an adversary's dialectic,
a manner of control that only higher-minds can fully appreciate.
"May... may I say suggest someone else?" Tibbs stammered as he felt some-sort of plan was being constructed between himself
and the Council of the Perfect Nine. Well, really between the Council, really.
Nine empty cowls all faced to where the little man -who had the audacity to clean his spectacles during this existence-shattering
convocation, now lingered for the wisdom that made Tibbs their go-to-guy. "There's someone else who would be a good
confederate for this situation" he said lightly.
If the coldness that 'Haughty' had caused during his snooty-petulance had caused the Vithian to tremble, the deep brumal that
dropped into the Hall of Owls painted an immediate frost onto Tibbs' beard as he dared himself to suggest who he wanted.
"Do not say his name here Vithian, he contaminates this sacred edifice with just thinking of his existence" came the snarled
-warning from another of the Council. This one had remained silent up to now and sat in the centre of the congregation.
Tibbs set his jaw to show that even though he could understand the Council's disapproval of Ninurta's policies of living, the man
who courted violence like an old-friend was really their only tiller for this voyage. And in his own strange way, Tibbs missed the
angry troublemaker.
"I want Ninurta to escort us on this mission" he said and made a silent prayer to Muckles' Gods that his voice didn't waver.
"HE'S A FREAKIN' KILLER OF THE WORST ORDER!" 'Haughty screamed and a sudden loud muttering came from the other eight
of the Chancellors. As Tibbs watched the once-slow, deliberate house of alleged enlightened and judicious Time-Conquerors
transform into a bunch of aloof idiots throwing a hissy-fit, the diminutive Vithian placed his hands behind his back and repeated
loudly -yet calmly "I want Ninurta to lead this mission and fix your problem... do you hear me?"
The silence was similar to the air around the campfire as each of the individual members of the Council of the Perfect Nine came
to terms with what they had resisted since the kid once called 'Carpenter' had first picked up a weapon.
Control is only a matter of perception.
With a simple comment like 'take yer time, runt", an entirely different slant can set existence on another route and unless you have
the will to command the reigns of such a primitive beast, everything can go tits-up. Tibbs smiling from this thoughts of that time at
the Hall of Owls now looked over the firelight and realised that snoring man with the hat over his face held such qualities.
He lovingly patted his wife's thigh again and inwardly, patted his own shoulder for his pansophy. He'd chosen wisely.
"Anyone here ever heard of the Final Mainyu?" Tibbs asked across the flickering flames.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.