"I... I didn't lie when I said it was complex" Tibbs stuttered as his little legs dangled a couple of feet from the ground.
Mucklebones was trying to wrestle with Ninurta's out-stretched arm to rescue her husband from his current predicament,
that of undergoing one of the GunMan's interrogations.
Boy In A Dress half-sat on an alleged antique dresser from the Tudor age and waved at Tibbs as his pleading eyes sought
assistance. Failing to override Muckles' cursing, the grinning Man-Girl suggested "Well, It might have helped if you'd told us
the whole truth".
"This ain't bullyin'... yer' know that, dontcha?" the voice from under the wide-brimmed hat asked and with that, the Vithian's
struggling ceased, the logic Ninurta had offered was irrefutable. It was around that time that the Witch of Carbiox wondered
if pulling Ninurta's pistol from its holster might be a big enough threat to get him to her release her man.
Sadly, the damned-thing wouldn't budge.
"If memory serves, t'was you who put the hex on it..." Ninurta whispered as he felt the tugging at his waist, his arctic gaze never
leaving Tibbs' face. "...And Ah' thank yer' fur' it" he added with a slight-smile. A moment later the robed time-traveller was back
on solid ground, be it a herringbone-designed flooring.
The full moon shone in through a cracked and grease-smudged skylight and the closed Auctioneers showroom that Tibbs had
brought them to afforded them at least, a portion of privacy to resolve their plight. That of what the hell is really going on.
The craft that had brought them to 1972 and the chamber that was once courtroom, stood near a stuffed Polar Bear that proudly
offered it's nicotine-stained claws and yellow fur brought on by central-heating. The bowler hat that was on its head would've
been the final facet in its humiliation, if BIAD hadn't removed it and balanced the dusty-headwear on one of the time-machine's
broken aerials.
Resisting the urge to step onto the seller's podium, Tibbs straightened his attire and with Mucklebones beside him, explained.
"We've been duped..." he stated and checked the demeanour of his small audience of two. "...Forrestal is not really a human
in the sense that you'd naturally presume. He's a Wose, an essence of the wild that is sometimes called upon to monitor a
technological-evolving species such as humans." Tibbs' tone was flat and with occasional glances towards his consoling wife,
he continued.
Ninurta had wandered over to a farmhouse table that had seen better years and carefully moving a light-faded milk Pitcher,
he leaned on the table's edge and listened intently. To know the battlefield is part of a successful plan, but to know who's
lined-up across that layout is far-more important.
"What surprised me is that Forrestal doesn't know he's a Wose" Tibbs said and patted Muckles' hand in regards of her
relating the information. " It's happened before and we have no idea how" he added, but this seemed to be towards himself.
"However, due to his lack of mental-human alliance and his political position, he'd discovered that this planet... and maybe
far more, has already been taken over."
Allowing his alien-wife to assist him in clambering onto a stained and slatted folding-chair, Tibbs went on with his story of quiet
hoodwink and subtle double-cross. "When first given this mission, I took the stance that our enemy would use dynamism that
involved violence and overwhelming numbers. I believed any trickery would be in the form of science and mystical illusion to
convince those who opposed the advancement that resistance was..."
Boy In A Dress called out "Futile?" and checked to see if the jape had gone down well. The lack of turning heads and laughter
certified that BIAD was being silly -and obvious, again.
The creaks of tired furniture and seasoned bric-a-brac breached the time-traveller's elucidation and the quartet's deliberations.
More information was needed and Tibbs was struggling to bring it. "But I was wrong..." he went on, "...due to the physical
differences in the Mainyu's make-up, I'm positing that a conquest in its usual manner wasn't possible and so..." Tibbs stopped
and looked to his spouse to further the commentary.
Mucklebones fingered the edge of her poncho and prepared her wording, the moon's glow made her skin seem alabaster and
to a vigilant Auctioner, would seem a decent bidding-piece. "And so, Ba'al and his minions came in at a different angle..." she
whispered "...the sly buggers invaded like ghosts possessing the weak-minded and used 'em to climb into positions of power"
The room went dark momentarily as a late-night cloud made its way towards where the sun was sleeping, the Witch used those
few seconds to let her statement sink in.
Closing the space between her and the Gunslinger and the unsmiling Boy In A Dress, Muckles warned "we're not stopping the
Final Mainyu -a force we believed would be Ba'al himself in a singular-form so great that the only way to defeat him would be
to catch him as he broke through the veil, we're now in a new mess. The bastards are already here".
Tibbs carefully lowered himself from the rickety-chair and approached the arena where Ninurta, the Man-Girl and his wife now
stood, the atmosphere seemed bleak. "She is correct... we're fighting things we cannot see" he said and silently castigated
himself for not adding any hope into his comment.
Boy In A Dress tilted his head for a second or two and then asked "well, why can't we go back to the time this first happened
and nip it in the bud -then?" If the question was deemed to have merit, the faces of his friends didn't reveal their recognition
of it. Tibbs turned to the bizarre and incongruous hermaphrodite and smiled benignly.
"It was a never singular point in time, it was a series of instances in various places across this planet that wouldn't have a
direct impact on their own, but as a passel, would lay the groundwork for another wave of Ba'al's ethereal intruders" he said.
Tibbs sighed then and wondered where they'd all be a thousand years from now.
Mucklebones wanted to go to him then, a being who prayed in the church of science and his worship was as fruitless as
asking BIAD to use underwear. The Witch looked at the varnish-missing herringbone design and absorbed her husband's
sadness.
Only the sound of a match striking against a Royal Doulton figurine plundered the melancholy in the room and later, in the
full-light of day, a browser would discover the china statuettes of Snow White and her seven Dwarves.
If that shopper examined the small diamond-miner called 'Grumpy' a dark scar would be seen across his forehead.
Maybe the sign of a troublemaker?
"We need to talk to this fella Forrestal..." Ninurta said -stoking his cigarette to life, "...That's where we'll make our start"
Tibbs breathed in slowly and felt a small flicker of hope, this was why he demanded that the Perfect Nine agreed to allow
the Vandalian to lead the assignment.
Coming through time was one thing, but coming through with an unfading determination was another far-more adamant billet.
"Aye, he's on it" Muckles hissed and for the first time in that shadowy hall, she smiled the smile of the cunning.
Mucklebones was trying to wrestle with Ninurta's out-stretched arm to rescue her husband from his current predicament,
that of undergoing one of the GunMan's interrogations.
Boy In A Dress half-sat on an alleged antique dresser from the Tudor age and waved at Tibbs as his pleading eyes sought
assistance. Failing to override Muckles' cursing, the grinning Man-Girl suggested "Well, It might have helped if you'd told us
the whole truth".
"This ain't bullyin'... yer' know that, dontcha?" the voice from under the wide-brimmed hat asked and with that, the Vithian's
struggling ceased, the logic Ninurta had offered was irrefutable. It was around that time that the Witch of Carbiox wondered
if pulling Ninurta's pistol from its holster might be a big enough threat to get him to her release her man.
Sadly, the damned-thing wouldn't budge.
"If memory serves, t'was you who put the hex on it..." Ninurta whispered as he felt the tugging at his waist, his arctic gaze never
leaving Tibbs' face. "...And Ah' thank yer' fur' it" he added with a slight-smile. A moment later the robed time-traveller was back
on solid ground, be it a herringbone-designed flooring.
The full moon shone in through a cracked and grease-smudged skylight and the closed Auctioneers showroom that Tibbs had
brought them to afforded them at least, a portion of privacy to resolve their plight. That of what the hell is really going on.
The craft that had brought them to 1972 and the chamber that was once courtroom, stood near a stuffed Polar Bear that proudly
offered it's nicotine-stained claws and yellow fur brought on by central-heating. The bowler hat that was on its head would've
been the final facet in its humiliation, if BIAD hadn't removed it and balanced the dusty-headwear on one of the time-machine's
broken aerials.
Resisting the urge to step onto the seller's podium, Tibbs straightened his attire and with Mucklebones beside him, explained.
"We've been duped..." he stated and checked the demeanour of his small audience of two. "...Forrestal is not really a human
in the sense that you'd naturally presume. He's a Wose, an essence of the wild that is sometimes called upon to monitor a
technological-evolving species such as humans." Tibbs' tone was flat and with occasional glances towards his consoling wife,
he continued.
Ninurta had wandered over to a farmhouse table that had seen better years and carefully moving a light-faded milk Pitcher,
he leaned on the table's edge and listened intently. To know the battlefield is part of a successful plan, but to know who's
lined-up across that layout is far-more important.
"What surprised me is that Forrestal doesn't know he's a Wose" Tibbs said and patted Muckles' hand in regards of her
relating the information. " It's happened before and we have no idea how" he added, but this seemed to be towards himself.
"However, due to his lack of mental-human alliance and his political position, he'd discovered that this planet... and maybe
far more, has already been taken over."
Allowing his alien-wife to assist him in clambering onto a stained and slatted folding-chair, Tibbs went on with his story of quiet
hoodwink and subtle double-cross. "When first given this mission, I took the stance that our enemy would use dynamism that
involved violence and overwhelming numbers. I believed any trickery would be in the form of science and mystical illusion to
convince those who opposed the advancement that resistance was..."
Boy In A Dress called out "Futile?" and checked to see if the jape had gone down well. The lack of turning heads and laughter
certified that BIAD was being silly -and obvious, again.
The creaks of tired furniture and seasoned bric-a-brac breached the time-traveller's elucidation and the quartet's deliberations.
More information was needed and Tibbs was struggling to bring it. "But I was wrong..." he went on, "...due to the physical
differences in the Mainyu's make-up, I'm positing that a conquest in its usual manner wasn't possible and so..." Tibbs stopped
and looked to his spouse to further the commentary.
Mucklebones fingered the edge of her poncho and prepared her wording, the moon's glow made her skin seem alabaster and
to a vigilant Auctioner, would seem a decent bidding-piece. "And so, Ba'al and his minions came in at a different angle..." she
whispered "...the sly buggers invaded like ghosts possessing the weak-minded and used 'em to climb into positions of power"
The room went dark momentarily as a late-night cloud made its way towards where the sun was sleeping, the Witch used those
few seconds to let her statement sink in.
Closing the space between her and the Gunslinger and the unsmiling Boy In A Dress, Muckles warned "we're not stopping the
Final Mainyu -a force we believed would be Ba'al himself in a singular-form so great that the only way to defeat him would be
to catch him as he broke through the veil, we're now in a new mess. The bastards are already here".
Tibbs carefully lowered himself from the rickety-chair and approached the arena where Ninurta, the Man-Girl and his wife now
stood, the atmosphere seemed bleak. "She is correct... we're fighting things we cannot see" he said and silently castigated
himself for not adding any hope into his comment.
Boy In A Dress tilted his head for a second or two and then asked "well, why can't we go back to the time this first happened
and nip it in the bud -then?" If the question was deemed to have merit, the faces of his friends didn't reveal their recognition
of it. Tibbs turned to the bizarre and incongruous hermaphrodite and smiled benignly.
"It was a never singular point in time, it was a series of instances in various places across this planet that wouldn't have a
direct impact on their own, but as a passel, would lay the groundwork for another wave of Ba'al's ethereal intruders" he said.
Tibbs sighed then and wondered where they'd all be a thousand years from now.
Mucklebones wanted to go to him then, a being who prayed in the church of science and his worship was as fruitless as
asking BIAD to use underwear. The Witch looked at the varnish-missing herringbone design and absorbed her husband's
sadness.
Only the sound of a match striking against a Royal Doulton figurine plundered the melancholy in the room and later, in the
full-light of day, a browser would discover the china statuettes of Snow White and her seven Dwarves.
If that shopper examined the small diamond-miner called 'Grumpy' a dark scar would be seen across his forehead.
Maybe the sign of a troublemaker?
"We need to talk to this fella Forrestal..." Ninurta said -stoking his cigarette to life, "...That's where we'll make our start"
Tibbs breathed in slowly and felt a small flicker of hope, this was why he demanded that the Perfect Nine agreed to allow
the Vandalian to lead the assignment.
Coming through time was one thing, but coming through with an unfading determination was another far-more adamant billet.
"Aye, he's on it" Muckles hissed and for the first time in that shadowy hall, she smiled the smile of the cunning.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.