Daftwager Twitter: Day 52, Farewell to Paris!

Day 52:

 

07:00; … ‘Lower classes? Well I think we should attack them, 1st with bombs & rockets, destroying their homes, & then 2nd, when they run helpless into the streets, mowing them down with machine guns’ …

 

07:10; … ‘& then, of course, the releasing of the vultures. I know these views aren’t popular, but I have never courted popularity’- Oh, my, I was having a most wonderful dream. And, you were there … dead.

 

07:20; Don’t get so flustered. Of course I don’t dream of killing you; you aren’t that important to me! My subconscious simply posited an environment where your death occurred trivially, & I found it … good.

 

07:30; I have such deliciously vivid dreams on the morphine, almost a pity I won’t need it by the end of the day. UNDEAD knits my bones & belittles my bruises. Still; the stolen zimmerframe comes in handy.

 

07:40; A particular limitation to UNDEAD is that: if my arms had been torn off, I might have survived, but they wouldn’t have grown back. I resolve; time to track down Dr. Nation, & his regeneration serum.

 

07:50; True I have performed & laughed at amputations before … like that boy who rode around in his mother’s cloth-dryer on spin cycle for fun … oh my yes, hah hah, hahaha, hahaha, hahaha, mu-hahaha …

 

08:00; … now what was I laughing about again? Oh yes! That digit-crippled child, Little Kitty Paw-Paws … Oh HAHAHA … but yes, I seek Nation’s supposed serum to spare myself such risk & harassment.

 

08:10; TDLS&P return to LPR: Paradigm oversees my care & Shade inspected LPR anti-super security. They like Open & feeling is mutual. Sexy theories of this must wait: that part of my anatomy still hurts.

 

08:20; Excelsoar is being detained in a specialised Vigil cell; his gaolers are NOT in their teens! Officially my old mind-control story is sold to the press; Marquis de Made possessed E from beyond the grave!

 

08:30; Deranged dead men like the Marquis usually have little legal estate to contend molestation of mad memoirs – I expect fictional accounts of this encounter to fuel Enchaine’s daily ‘Excelsoar!’ comic-strip.

 

08:40; I, a perfectly sane living man, will receive no such mention. Much like l’Affaire Frey Druss, I have been put on the back-burner as much as for my own safety, as my explicit desire to destroy Excelsoar.

 

08:50; Fortunately for Frey Druss, preliminary popular PP polls show a sure conviction for conviction, in time for the retrial. Unfortunately for me, rumours abound, that I was the one to cut this Gordian Knot.

 

09:00; Wildly inaccurate ones. Oh, I did obstruct injustice; they just think I actually summoned the victims from the dead. Nonsense – the dead aren’t allowed to testify in open court – can’t swear on the Bible.

 

09:10; Tales of my summoning Admiral Nelson’s spectre preceded me to Paris. Fillyfaddle! Dead callings: cabbala chalk signs complying to individual details of the subject’s life; I didn’t care about the victims.

 

09:20; Nelson’s was easy. These, faceless few would not have been. But, between that & my sudden disappearance in court, my hands are tied to the affair. I am being referred to as ‘Lightbringer’: ‘Phaedrus’.

 

09:30; ‘Frey Druss’/’Phaedrus’ *sigh* just because the Mr. Scripts BORE stirs puns to the forefront of my frontal lobe does not mean I must like them. Besides, The Deadly Light Shade might feel … infringed.

 

09:40; My terrible terror of TDLS has subsided somewhat, but I still a little more anxious than long-tailed rats in a blind-staffed sausage factory. The hat, the picture, the gamete of her & P’s unborn children …

 

09:50; -What? Nothing! You heard NOTHING!

 

10:00; Oh Open, Paradigm & The Deadly Night Shade are downstairs, no fear here. I like to recuperate in quiet, thinking thought-shielded thoughts. Also: they are fighting off the Scarlet Pimp’s Whore Army.

 

10:10; Some territorial dispute, of a sort. Quite vehement, you know, the intrenched French prostitution business. Open apparently forged an alliance against this fellow with a woman called ‘La Belle de Jour’.

 

10:20; Open insists I do not engage the enemy; partially due to my injuries, partially because I can’t be seen to be ‘protecting my little lady’ in a matter of strict business. Zombies & floods are ‘my’ department.

 

10:30; Paradigm & Shade *are* are allowed to go out, exchanging blows & generally winning the day. *sigh* I am NOT sulking. To amuse myself, I empty my cather contents out the window, onto enemies.

 

10:40; Binary Janus: Man of the 31st Century, titular head of the Jeans d’Armes enters my window. Priggish ass – any opportunity to show off. Was just about to fly out, myself: demonstrate my friction shield.

 

10:50; BJ: bears a Science/God naming scheme associated with WWII superheroes like Quantum Apollo, Jupiter Asymptote, Diana Refraction, Doppler Mercury; in reality, only an ‘apple-cheeked sidekick’.

 

11:00; In the 31st century, BJ read all about the Three Emperor’s League, the League of Nations & the NATO/Warsaw Leagues & the United Nation League: travelled back in time to serve with all his icons.

 

11:10; They left those titles aside long since: BJ retains his. Not special: just has a handy arsenal of assorted futuretech doodads, gizmos & gadgets; I suspect he has little idea as to ‘how’ they actually function.

 

11:20; I know it, actually: Binary Janus’ bag of tricks does not, apparently, include BORE-proof anti-mind-reading devices. There is little else to read there as he explains & apologises for Excelsoar’s escape-

 

11:30; -Oh my! Not escape. Release. Wasn’t entirely an apprentice’s fault. Chrono Cell was shut down, its occupant herded by his ‘pursuers’ to my location in a mockery of recapture. E was sent to kill me …

 

11:40; … no not to kill … test … released at the low-point of his psych review, to assert the truth of E’s idea that I had powers beyond the norm … powers that related to other powers … controlling powers …

 

11:50; PP trial was the lion that broke the zebra’s back – appearing to consult BOOL only made it worse. Various claims I have been wanderlusting France at large, with no apparent means of travel, also irk.

 

12:00; This isn’t Binary Janus’ tarradiddle. Puppetmasters higher up noted me & pulled his cat-gut marionette strings. As his apologies continue, BJ silently smirks at the thought that injured-old-me had power.

 

12:10; I know these particular ‘puppeteers’ won’t so quickly dismiss me. Superhero ‘Volunteer Fire Department Chiefs’, like BJ, can’t imagine having powers/devices & not using them, publicly, as Janus does.

 

12:20; BJ looks upon me like a silly child, like a supervillain’s sidekick whom he has no qualms about releasing enraged Es upon. I look upon him as a ventriloquist’s dummy, unaware of the hand in his rectum.

 

12:30; Product of 31st century genetics, he heals quickly, looking with unveiled disgust on my sickbed. Assured of no ill-feeling, he ‘rocket boots away!’ Regenerative genetics? Well, bully for modern science!

 

12:40; Don’t entirely understand Open’s disinclination for my help. I don’t particularly like help, of course: security, incompetence, the volatile nature of any villainous team-up, even with 1 of 1’s parallel selves.

 

12:50; Most particularly, I rarely engage in anything so large scale as to require minions, never mind partners. As BORE advances, this may have to change. Yesterday, I learned how useful a ‘human shield’ is.

 

13:00; I stiffly step astride my cane, – I really need it today – float out the window & bombard Scarlet Pimp’s patrol with napalm water balloons. SP’s skull-top cane shoots fire from the eyes: SP is immolated.

 

14:00; Arrive at the graveyard, just as Cataflaque-led funeral cortege enters. In topper & tails, Cataflaque leads the Norwegian family & French friends of Frey Druss to his second-to-final resting place, here.

 

14:10; As ‘Phaedrus’, I pay my respects. Half the city attends the burial of the PP’s last victim & marks my presence. I take from my mourning coat’s deep pockets a single rose, tossing it onto the deep coffin.

 

14:20; Moving along, I dispense with this useful civility & shift into invisibility. What a piece of luck, that Frey Druss’ body be released from evidence, today of all days! Oh joyous, wonderful, great day today.

 

14:30; Wards drawn by bros Cataflaque & Catacomb keep the dead in & those alive & without a purpose here out, much like sisters Shroudog & Anububastis in London’s cemetaries. Frey gave me a ‘pass’.

 

14:40; I enter the catacombs, where the bones of the graves above are moved in ten years. Its also where undertaker Catacomb clothes his new charges in grave, funereal cerements. Morgue Ann is here too.

 

14:50; Handshake both, I ‘assume’ that Ann is signing over Druss’ body. Oh! ‘Shock’! She is here because someone disinterred & desecrated the corpse of the Marquis de Made. ‘Surprised Face Number 8’!

 

15:00; I offer to consult: Ann agrees, due to my settling of the PPs. Catacomb agrees, due to the rumour that Excelsoar, possessed by the spirit of le Marquis de Made, chased me, as if I tried to free E, & he.

 

15:10; I started that 1 myself: a corollary to the official story. The more natural assumption would be that I desecrated MDM’s corpse, causing him to possess E, as a means of exacting a most unholy revenge.

 

15:20; Despite the more natural nature of the second theory, the public at large & Catacomb in specific seem inclined to trust in me. Shall never trust this good publicity business: the day I do, it will fail for me.

 

15:30; Through a complex rigamarole of deductive reasoning & the psychology of the individual, I ‘theorise’ that MDM’s brain was excised by an automaton for medical purposes. Applause accompanies this.

 

15:40; Leaving those 2 to trailblaze the investigation – a little insurance policy against Saniac under Paris – I pat the original MDM DNA in my pocket, looted with intent to create a body for ”InSaniac’s” brain.

 

15:50; Couldn’t trust the semi-mechanical mitochondrial’s in that altered brain for DNA. Also, couldn’t risk damaging it overly in taking a sample. Besides, I invited Morgue Ann over to meet Open later today.

 

16:00; Top Hat’s Paris statue: Take the whole bouquet of roses out of my mourning coat, plant carniverous carnations around it, then feed the roses to them. Rose-like now, they should keep away graffiti-ers.

 

17:00; Invisibly visit the Bastille’s Madhouse wing: Mr Scripts, held here, now his part in the early PP murders has been revealed. Tell him the PPs won’t go free next trial, to turn state’s evidence, against them.

 

17:10; MS depressed: literary failure. Restraining myself, barely, from telling him all literary endeavours are inherently failures, I tell him the infamy of his crime will win him fame, tell him to become a Yes-Man.

 

17:20; I looked into the Yes-Men, early in my psychic hunt. Hollywood writers, they can intuit every director comment they should agree with, can steal scripts in formation from other studios for sure-fire hits.

 

17:30; Hence 2 asteroid movies together. A year of nodding & espionage & ‘The Faceless Brides of Doctor Dread Desireé’ can become a silver-screen reality! He agrees. I leave him think/masturbating on it.

 

17:40; I little care whether the little fool succeeds or not – only that the PPs should certainly go down for their crimes this time if the rumour that I was responsible for the courtroom coup continues to circulate.

 

17:50; On way out, passed TM chatting to a guard. She’ll escape, re-invent herself, like she did after ex-partner ‘Musk of Fear’ reformed. But her new self won’t chase me. Psylent Film? Just staring, at a wall.

 

18:00; Return to La Pantalon Rouge at dusk, the Scarlet Pimp’s forces finished & fealty to LPR being exacted from them. Something of a ‘surprise’ celebration is being held, for my surviving Excelsoar’s wrath.

 

18:10; I knew it. I keep my mind-reading hat on in bed. Not parting with beloved BORE, after yesterday. Also: a pleasurable recursion occurs & my mother always told me to wear 1 item in bed for mystery.

 

18:20; Hence I invited Morgue Ann along. Also attending: Paradigm, the Deadly Light Shade, Library Ann (library being rebuilt by the Defenestration Station) & The Red Lady (in Claudius’ ‘concern’ for me).

 

18:30; You can see why I felt the need to probe ahead. A room filled with women, all of whom have a reason to kill me, if truth be told. Like: the ‘Orient Express’, but in a burlesque bordello windmill in Paris.

 

18:40; Who is affable towards me these days? What is my karma? Lets see: met Beaulingerie at Druss’ graveside: he assured me the restauraunts of Paris were open to me for my entire life, for jailing the PPs.

 

18:50; That isn’t terribly useful here, or even in itself; given the lifetime of an average high-profile French restauraunt venture is 6 months, which, as a measurement of ‘the rest of my life’ isn’t at all positive, here.

 

19:00; Also: Beaulingerie mentioned he was working on ‘edible lethal underwear’ for Pirate Pete’s Plunderwear line. Recommended Ninja Bob Roberts. Protector-cook no longer needed, he’ll need the work.

 

19:10; Again, useless as selfless deeds. No more protector-chefs will make breaking into restauraunts after my 6 months grace is up easier. Also, Pete will be furious, working with Ninja Bob, given their past.

 

19:20; I am preparing to rid the world of Doctor Nation – but, only to get my hands on his regeneration serum. I have rid the world of six (or eight) dangerous criminals – but, only to steal their unique powers.

 

19:30; I can firmly be said to be approaching the powers of a super, yet have not performed one ‘good’ deed to acquire or performed with one ‘good’ deed with them. *Whew*, good; it means I am still sane.

 

19:40; Sanity check confirmed, I sit to accept my gifts. Paradigm sets out breakdowns of the UNDEAD formula, with aspects analysed, in a manner I hadn’t noticed before. These could be quite useful. Nice?

 

19:50; I know her secret identity because I stole a golden ticket for a tour of her estranged father’s candy factory. Stealing secrets, I found a room filled with framed clippings of Min & Paradigm, side by side.

 

20:00; The Deadly Light Shade gives me a summer-weight suit of tweed kevlar. The stitching: immaculate. Paradigm must have designed this … before I was clothed against nakedness, now I am Apparrelled!

 

20:10; An uncomfortable moment: I realise the hat is designed to hold ‘my’ mind-reading device. The mind-reading device, I stole from the Shade’s hat. She knows. Oh god, she knows. Its a cryo tank for me!

 

20:20; She saw me at the fashion show, when I was invisible to everyone else. She knows! Yet, she is still smiling. I can’t read her mind as she may very well also know. This is how she drives enemies insane!

 

20:30; I smile back, even giggle a little when happening upon the Men’s Lingerie TDLS included. Yes: how is my perfect posterior to be publicly portrayed without Wonderbriefs, or a pair of push-up boxers?

 

20:40; Library Ann gives me an Unreal Atlas, from her own collection(!), for my trip, wherever it might be. The Red Lady, leaning forward for a hint of destination, gives me a marvellously inlaid, elephant gun.

 

20:50; See LA’s insectile nature, under the illusion. Tiny mouth, over-large eyes, triangular chin, pointy ears and over-long fingers – elvish to exoskeleton. Had she any idea that I led E to the library, *shudder*

 

21:00; Red Lady’s history with me is more complex & a lot longer: She tried to drink my aristocratic blood a great many times & I killed her, several times. Why, look at that; not so long, or complex, after all.

 

21:10; She is on the wagon now – the plague one, with the free corpses. Naturally, she bleeds a few days in every month – at a hospital, hers THE universal donor type, she drinks blood approaching atrophy.

 

21:20; As for RL/Claude, I assume they have ”shared interests”: He is obsessive about noble bloodlines, enjoys good vintages, is an expert in bloodsport & kills many people. Cupid’s heart-skewering arrow!

 

21:30; Morgue Ann, only invited a few hours ago, gives me the best present of all: On a list of suspicious figures, in Catacomb’s cemetary, collected for the MDM desecration investigation, yields: ‘Dr. Nation.’

 

21:40; Some months ago, Nation falsely professed he wished to bury relatives there & made enquiries about the techniques used to preserve bodies in the catacomb’s Egyptian wing. ‘Whitby’ was mentioned!

 

21:50; Well, that explains where he heard about our well-made zombie myths, not knowing them to be reality. Another neat little fact I can use when giving the fool a ‘Hannibal Lecture’ on threatening Whitby.

 

22:00; Thunderous, a great, heavy hand knocks on the door. For a moment, it seems the spectre of Scarlet Pimp comes to reclaim his girls, who have been ushered an LPR life of mad science & life choices!

 

22:05; Ushered in, it is only Mister Wicker, the fictive puppet of Miss Mauvais, aka Madam Nation. I search, for the madman killer Pierrot, in Wicker’s cold eyes – alas, he isn’t there. Poor Pierrot failed then.

 

22:10; I did suspect it. Inevitable really. Remember: I left Pierrot, an impulse-driven fiend, fresh from a century of the most solitary of confinements, in the body of a female lingerie model. Never had a chance.

 

22:15; Had hoped P leapt into the mind-less body of W, when Mauvais sent for (what she believed to be) a P-possessed Daftwager. P was probably foreseen coming, killed, while naked, in front of a mirror.

 

22:20; In Mister Wicker’s arms is a crystal ball, bearing Miss Mauvais’ face. She thanks me for my prescription of pre-natal vitamins, which have restored her, & demands Nation’s location or I will die. Style!

 

22:25; I twirl my fingers in a bored fashion. Miss Mauvais is threatening possession by midnight, again. No innovation! Doc Languedoc, all over again. She stumbles into silence & I ask her: what will you pay?

 

22:30; Turning, to RL, before Miss Mauvais can answer, I repeat my question. I know: she is here to read my mind, a light latent telepathy I wasn’t supposed to know about. Also: I know Claudius is listening.

 

22:35; We bid around about a bit, then it comes a million for each of them. I offer no opportunity for exclusivity. They move to set up the transfer – I tell them: it can wait until morning, I trust them. Jaws drop.

 

22:40; I reveal the secret of Nabilac’s island & its current location to them. After all, I have learned the benefits of teamwork these past few days. And because, tomorrow, BookPimp will sell the info cheaply.

 

22:45; Library Ann: BookPimp found the Nabilac info in a future text. All prepped to go, he’ll wholesale the info at a rate culmulatively greater than the single reward payout than if any 1 person finds his book.

 

22:50; BP will want as many people tracking Nation alongside his Book Collectors: he can’t risk someone finally going over the thirty day mark his business rep is built on. I’ll get paid before that info is public.

 

22:55; To the quiet Library Ann & Morgue Ann, I hand complex chits of elohimic logic-counters I asked Open compose for me: allows them to spend their respective free nights & days, outside, if they want.

 

23:00; Our guests, gone to consult these new gifts in private, leave only Paradigm & The Deadly Night Shade. If they know about the hat, they may well know about the designs, the tickets, the photo. *Sigh*

 

23:05; Held in reserve against this moment, is my ultimate weapon against them, my last volley. Not the identities, not the relationship: revealing those would strongarm them into needing to kill me. They could.

 

23:10; No, this is a weapon that may very well disable them against me forever … if I do it right. If I present it badly … they will annihilate me which as it implicitly pains me to say, is in their power to easily do.

 

23:15; I tell them. About knowing their identities. How & why. About the Time Crisis. Where & when. About knowing of their relations. What it is & what I think. About BORE. How it halts their killing me…

 

23:20; P’s mind is blocked by the Brain & Bravado of her potion, TDLS’s cortex is as quiet as ever, but their mutual expression is clear: they knew, and are interested in how BORE is supposed to stop them.

 

23:25; Now that I revealed the how of my knowing this all, I let them know the reason behind the revelation. In brief, concealed within the 1st BORE survived something more its designs: a single gamete also.

 

23:30; I said: ‘knowing that the Time Crisis would end in either total temporal apocalypse or chrono-cancellation success, decided to be open about their love & get naked as the plane of reality crashed’; Lie!

 

23:35; Sort of. Ever-paranoid TDLS wasn’t even going to reveal identities, never mind relationships, even if the apocalypse was on the way. Then: trapped in a 10-year time loop … with their alternates selves.

 

23:40; Not their evil goateed opposite, not their ‘for want of a nail’ universe. Rather, the alternates where they could grow goatees, alternates not wanting in nails. They were them in every way … except male.

 

23:45; Both had 10 years, much love & an inability to bear their beloved’s children. While the Shades worked, on what must have been proto-lightbender to escape the loop, the Paradigms worked on genes.

 

23:50; Mere moments for my Other in the ClockTower were 10 years for Paradigm & Shade, escaping the loop & returning … with two little girls in their arms – presumably the male alters received the same.

 

23:55; Time Crisis ceased: Other female Shade, knowing her unchanged original would reappear in the restored world regardless, reactivated the lightbender, escaping with wife & twins into a safe singularity.

 

00:00; Other Shade inured my BORE, my Other’s child, against the straits of time, on the understanding that when I knew the restored Shade had reached the level of Other Shade, I’d hand over their gamete.

 

00:05; Hand it over carefully: long concealed in the 1st BORE’s can. Other Shade & Other Paradigm could not have returned to the world, with the girls; not trace of Time Crisis could be borne, lest it repeat.

 

00:10; I really wish I knew, if they intend to destroy me now, or not. I’ve thought long about giving it to them, never quite sure. The light-bending time-machine changed it. In Shade’s level … & in my gratitude.

 

00:15; The gamete is perfectly perserved & healthy. Product of two genius gene-science Paradigms. I’ve looked at the accompanying data. Quite ahead of the curve in clone/fertility studies; except P’s studies.

 

00:20; Or Min’s, rather. In the last few months, her papers have really burst through the ceiling on such reproduction problems. She, also, fast approaches the level of Other Paradigm in their field’s skill level.

 

00:25; Before I breathe again, Paradigm’s gloved hand is around my throat, preparing to pinch the carotid artery. Shade’s Lightstick, or Nightstick – can’t currently tell – is pressed against my forehead. *Fear*

 

00:30; They ask why their Others trusted someone like me with … *falter momentarily* … with this. Ask why I was to wait. But: they believe me – Shade shelters the gamete behind Para-Sol or Umbra-brella.

 

00:35; Why they trusted me? Great Satan, there are no reasons. Because the BORE could survive the trip? Because my Other knew & accepted their love for each other? Because he knew about the girls???

 

00:40; ‘Because I was just bad enough to defy time itself to save my child & yours, just good enough to be trusted with the task’. As for the technical requirements, coldly assessing TDLS/P’s ability for years?

 

00:45; ‘Because if Time crashed again, or 1 of the timesters realised those children were ‘created’ in a forbidden timestream, the Others wanted the Originals to be able to protect the children, no matter what’.

 

00:50; At that, I assume I’m dead – they move over-swift in a second. Then Paradigm is hugging me, gently, off the ground & Shade is holding her hand against my face in a manner not so very homicidal at all.

 

00:55; Released, I walk over to an open-mouthed Open, kiss her full on the lips, activate my personal friction-shield I set to react to thoughts of pain instantly, at attack, wave goodbye & activate the teleport.

 

01:00; I rematerialise, in the seedy London bar, in which I once took an imprint of DoomBrain’s teleport. Buying several pints of beer & all the peanut packets over the naked lady, I am out before last orders.

 

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