The Gold Saucer

[Black Waltz No. 3]

(Hey hey, this is I think the last thread i ever had with my boyfriend when he played One, Zidane asked to see, and I love this thread to bits.
I warn you though, the start is incredibly brutal. And its also huge, aha)

Her body was like a torn hat. Blood stained the white towel that wrapped so protectively, so pathetically around her. Specks of gold dulled and stared endlessly at the cracks on the floor. One hand draped across her breasts, hanging loosely across the whiteness of the cloth, the other hung between her thighs. Not even tears cut their way across her cheeks, no, they where smooth, untouched by regret. It was her eyes that reflected any sense of pain.

They where dead.

Soft light dared break the window, defiantly entering what was his territory. It illuminated her, gently caressing her with an aura of forgiveness. He stood on the other side of the room. There was a stink of leather and feather mingled with dry sweat and white rush.

He was odious. He was mis created. He was such a cruel beast, with tools equipped for the killing that he turned so horribly against her. She had been hollowed out by him, left a cracked shell that rocked upon the dusted floor.

She didn't even tremble. Dared not to give him the pleasure of her pain. He seemed displeased by this, judging by the way he stalked the opposite side of the room. Normally he would act on such a high, call upon One and speak haughtily of the 'glorious' act of sin he had committed. It was harrowing, to see that rancid mouth spill out such misconceptions.

No, no not today. Today he was as cold as the depths of the saline ocean. "Whatever is the matter, Three?" she asked, though her voice held no weight. She could see his eyes, see his troubled reaction. He was so repulsed by her, so repulsed by everything.

She hadn't struggled. Her body had just remained a tangled heap. The dryness of her tone only further enraged him. He was growing ever so sick of her and her lack of passion. Did she not care for her life any more? Did she not care for the crimes he brought so horribly before her? Did she not care for her god any more, or was it simply she did not wish for him to be saved?

He sighed, even the wenches on the filth ridden streets would give him more pleasure. No! No! They did not have what she had. Did not have that defiant glance, that endless fire. Oh, oh, even though she had suffered so horribly before him she still held his strings firmly in her hands. Here, even now, she was holding power above him. The way she dared not give him the pleasure of the struggle, could not feed this insatiable beast, instead starving it. Starving him until he could not take it any more.

Oh, her blood would taste so sweet when time came. She would not be expecting it. As blood would surge around her thighs she would not expect it to spurt from her gut when he shred her apart. He would burst her! Cleave her! Split her!

Her womb would spill into his hands, the warmth of potential life in his hands. He would find that coiled, bloodied lump of tissue. Find it and squeeze it. Split apart its tiny, helpless, formless shape. Oh, oh yes, what absolution, what perfection. Let it come, oh god, let it come!

He realized he was shaking, bent over the table and barely able to contain himself. His wings dropped and his shallow, rapid breaths began to slow and deepen. His gaze returned to her, their eyes meeting and sparking
resentment in each soul.

She rose to her feet, now casting aside the towel. Scars numbed her body. She turned away from him, approaching the window that hung so highly above her head. Clicking her tongue twice, she appeared to float upon the air itself, her wings stilled. She touched the window, cocking her head and fixing it with a somewhat loving gaze. Her other hand wrapped helplessly around the silver cross that hung like a noose around her neck.

Was she religious? Even she did not know. She knew it tormented her 'brother' however, knew that it made his mind squirm for reasoning. She knew he sometimes pretended to seek God's retribution, as if all the praying in the world could slough off his sins.

She turned away from the window, the light irritating her eyes. She instead approached the clothing upon the floor, a crumpled mess of greens and blues. Her clothing appeared like a mirror of herself and she could see her form imprinted into the fabrics that spun and coiled round each other. She offered a hand, waving it lightly and encouraging the magic to flow through her.

She had always studied hard, far harder than that fuck (why was it that swear words where never strong enough to describe him?). She had learned some of the most miscellaneous of spells, humdrum things that would aid her little in battle. Once, learning had been 'fun'.

She flicked her wrist, the clothing now becoming wrapped against her form. She tossed her head, throwing back imaginary hair. She straightened her back, rolling her shoulders and forcing herself to relax. Ah yes, it was just the start of an every ordinary day.

She snapped her fingers, teleporting beside the other waltz, wrapping her hands around his neck. Her talons dug into his ruff, threatening to tear those precious little feathers out and strew them across the floor. She brought her head in close, her lips brushing just above his. She swore she could taste death ebbing from between that black slit.

"My womb, yes, mine, not yours, shall never bare your child. So don't worry, you wont have to issue that aborted idea of yours." Her eyes narrowed, staring into the depths of his, trying to grasp just what soul hid behind them.

Oh, he hated her. How could she show such passion now and here and not then. How could the fire leap and burn with such vigor now when before it had dulled and sunk into milky uncaring? She had not even screamed, and yet here her voice carried such hefty meaning and loathing. He could take no pleasure in this.

He grabbed the cross, pulling it towards himself. Despite its shimmering surface that caught the light pouring from the window, he could not see his reflection in the material. He tossed it away, tossed her away, pushing her to the floor.

The key had been wrenched into the lock, but it was not supposed to fit, was not meant to fit. Yet when, after ripping it apart, the door finally granted access it groaned and shuddered in apparent pain. Loosely concealed symbolism, no?

To the sound of bells, the red and blue hats bumbled into the room. The first approached Three had an emblazoned blue sleeve produced a neatly folded document.

"Number Three, you are to be put into use."

The script was unrolled and placed into the puppet's hands.

"The items on the list and where you may find them are detailed on the paper. These items are also very valuable and should not be damaged upon arrival."

Red boots carried the second forward and he pointed to direct the puppet.

"During the intermediary of your journey, spend the night in the Gold Saucer you will. You will not endanger the vessel by flying at night. Completed his task, the first has and he will pay for the room and accompany you on your return. Please leave immediately Number three."

Three had always found it difficult to understand Zorn's introverted way of speaking. Could he not even speak the mother tongue in a way that made sense? He was worse than the Burmecians, those louts whose orifices spewed endless streams of raped language. Those rat faced creatures with their buck teeth and stupid grins, pretending to be your friend while hiding a knife beneath their sleeves. They would stab you and leave you bleeding on the streets for all but a few Gil. Oh, he so wish the Alexandrians didn't give them rights. Wished they would go back to being slaves, where they belonged. At the very least, he wished Alexandria would deport them back to where they belonged, their shit hole of a rats nest that they constantly went on about as if it was created by god himself.

Though he saw but a tiny part of the world through cracked glass, but he saw enough to understand. He could understand how each moronic race had its own complaints and justifications for being here, understand their attitudes to themselves and to women, understand their greed and single mindedness. Reality revealed that when you boiled away the flesh, the bones of the people where all too similar. The lowest common denometer was always stupid. They always had the worst taste in music, women and clothing. They where always ugly, both mentally and physically, yet always tried to proclaim that they where not.

They never could realize they where just used to fuel the system, to keep the gears turning. They would complain about having to pay money for their transport, for their food. Complain about receiving little money for their work, when they had chosen this job for themselves. Or their fathers had. Oh, it was generations of foolishness constantly being passed on hand by hand, deepening down and down the line.

And how much did they breed! It was always them with 20 children running behind them, grubby hands fighting each other for their mothers dilapidated, sagging breasts. The intellectuals, the rich, they too often had many children beneath them, but never as much as the poor. Besides, they could sustain them, feed them, educated them. They would grow and contribute something to this mindless society.

Yet the dumb would breed, squeezing out more and more children who would cry out for more and more and suckle the system dry. He would not be surprised if this infection of stupidity would eventually lead to the downfall of all of society. Not that any of them would notice, too consumed with themselves would they be.

There would have to be a mass purging, and he, he would volunteer to be one of those who brought about the killing. Let their rotten minds bleed, they would not use them anyway. Infect their drugs, infect their prostitutes, infect their food with infertility. Let them die out! Replace them instead with black mages. The mages, though equally stupid, had no emotion to weigh them down. They would work and not complain. They would contribute without taking money.

He snatched the list away from their hands, skimming over it and its multitude of locations. It was fools work. Snorting, he looked back at them, daring to challenge them. "And what will I receive for this? More food? A little water? No, no, I simply will not do this without proper payment. I ask of you a servant so he might satisfy my needs better than either of you ever have"

Eyes flicked over towards Two, "Or that she ever has. Would it not be best to rid of her? You use her very little, and I sense she has a rebellious spirit about her. I think she will allow herself to be used by men and become too distracted by her tasks. But that was to be expected, was it not? She is only a women, after all."

The jester's pale masks split into wide grins and they exchanged glances.

"Aha Thorn!" spoke the blue lips to the other. "Watch the puppet reject his strings."

The other's mouth twisted in mockery and spite.

"Oh terribly sorry we are, master Three. God forbid we should trouble you without bringing you silver and gold."

The two chuckled briefly before the malicious frowns reappeared on their faces. Zorn took a step back and spoke again.

"You would do well to remember your position Number Three. As for your predecessor, when slandering your equal you may wish to remember both who has surpassed you by far in previous experiments, and the gender of your Queen and ruler. Alexandria's finest weapon or not, you are a tool. Act like one and close your mouth.
However, we have seen fit that you be accompanied in your tower by a servant. One of your own kind, of course. A human hand needs greased."

With a flounce, the pair turned to leave the room, muttering to each other.

Three closed his eyes, bubbling with emotion. The seeds of his anger had been sown, and now the roots where bursting to the surface. He look to Two, tempted to take his violent undoing out upon her, yet he restrained himself.

Picking apart their sentences he greedily lapped at their praise. They had called him Alexandria's finest weapon, another piece of fuel for his insatiable ego. Yet at the same time they had covered him in disrespect, shattered him and tempted him to feel like shit. They had hoped to put him in his place, yet he threw away their insults. He refused to face the truth, sweeping away their jibes under words such as Jealousy and Ignorance.

He assumed they where just trying to fuel him, provoke him to learn and improve himself. Yes, that was all they meant. They where just scared to insult women because they feared even a weakling like Two might rise up and slaughter them. Perhaps they feared that he would go tell Brahne or Garnet, whisper in their ears of their misogynistic ways. He understood he was not exactly the most trustworthy of creatures. Behind their grins he could see they where just as misogynistic as he, sharing the true beliefs.

But... A tool? That word struck him deep. The resonating drone was one that he constantly feared. He feared it bed cause he could not escape from it being true. He knew it was truth because it was shoved in his face narely every single day. No matter how hard he tried to struggle and reason beyond it, he was but a mere tool. Oh, but they had no idea. No idea how selfish he really was.

They thought he obeyed them because he was programmed too. They had no idea of the extent of his sentience and free will. They could not know that he mostly went along with them for the sake of not being killed. True, he felt he impulse to obey. True, his desire to kill came about because of his basic programming. True, he felt the need to protect that beautiful princess.

Yet it was not his programming that dictated he rape his sister and kill the one he was to protect. No, it was no kind of twisted logic brought about the machine. Though he hid behind the excuse that the killing would be in order to set her free, to protect her, that was all it was. An excuse. No, his programming did not agree. He had chosen this, overwritten it.When the time would come. When they would be alone... When there was an excuse... The bloody smile would be blamed upon the others. He would not be punished.

He blinked, realizing Two was staring at him. He shrunk, slinking out of the room and out of her sight. Tail between his legs, he rushed down the staircase, desperate to get out of this lethargic tower. The entire building groaned and wept as he passed through it, despite its towering stone walls and solid granite floors. The upper tower was bare, devoid of the paintings and splendor that infested the main palace.

He sighed, the staircase appeared to stretch on for eternity. He looked down the center, crawling onto the banister, and leaping off. It was somewhat of a leap of fate as he had not practiced this as extensively as One had. Oh, he could recall long summer days in which he would throw One out of their broken window. He had hoped he'd brake his neck, but no, of course not. The hunchback appeared to actually enjoy falling a couple of hundred feet.

The thought often made Three cringe, but he really couldn't be arsed walking. When he thud against the ground, he thanked the gods he was made of such lightweight materials. He heard ringing in his ears and he swore his knees where about to fall off, but besides that he appeared to be alright.

Rushing outside the door, he fluttered round towards the stables. Chocobos cried out and stamped their feet at his presence, but he ignored them. As much as he'd love to slaughter them he did not want to have General Beatrix hunting for his head. He despised that women but Zorn and Thorn had always warned him to be polite to her. He trusted them. When One had asked for her breast size he had been begging him for food for weeks.

Straw and dust flew everywhere as he uncovered Zorn and Thorns small flying machine. He touched the golden head of the Griffin that adored the front, brushing its tongue and its Jewelled eyes. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, before finally pulling himself inside.

He loved his contraption. It flew far faster than his wings could ever carry him, and speed was somewhat of a love for him. The engine was already running, apparently Zorn did not trust him to start it. The key hung in the slot, and he removed it, hiding it safely in one of his internal pockets.

He grabbed the wheel, the sleek wood meeting with distorted flesh. Forcing the machine to move, he drove out across the gardens, carefully avoiding the flowering areas. When finally he saw a clear enough strip, he took to the skies, spinning into the clear skies.

The tasks where completed quickly. He left only the Cockatrice feathers and the object required from Spira. He would leave them until morning, the need to sleep was slowly creeping in. The machine choked and spurted as he came in for landing down in the desert. He was not willing to forfeit money for a parking space. Out here, beneath the starry eyed sky, no one was bound to take the ship. They would think it was a mirage if they dared venture out here, anyway.

He fluttered his wings, hands sweaty from gripping the wheel all day. He was invigorated, high from the lustful deeds of the morning and equally high from slaughtering beasts all day. Their loosely cut out hides and skulls stared angrily up at him.

Wings carried him on the updrafts as he soared towards the giant pleasure house in the sky. He came into land in front of a carriage, much to one of the Guards displeasure. He waved him away, scanning the vicinity for One.

Spotting the moron waving his hands in the air, he sighed in contempt. He slid towards One, feeling slightly more aroused than usual despite his desire for sleep.Ignoring any form of greeting he cut in, coldly stating, "Does this place offer women of the darker nature? Or is this simply a dressed up fun house lacking in the aforementioned fun?".

[Black Waltz No. 3]

Three was late.

It was already getting dark and the park would be closing when that happened. Three thousand gil would go to waste and they'd have to sleep on Three's airship again. After last time, One was certainly not doing that again. And hotel aside, they were missing out on all the fun. Who knows how long they had to spend here and Three was wasting all this time.

One was on the verge of abandoning Three when the rope train pulled into the station. Something about it seemed weirdly symblic, but he thought no more of it upon seeing the young Waltz step onto the platform. He began to shake his fist and point towards the clock but as the Third came closer, his bravery abandoned him and he waved with a cheesey grin.

His greeting was cut off by the dry wit of the other who seemed to be requesting a dark skinned woman for some purpose. Aside from raising his eyebrows ...

... One ignored this question, instead grabbing Three's wrist and pulling him towards the entrance.

"Oh if you want aforementioned fun you won't be disappointed!" he promised, excitement almost spilling out into his words.

"I got us a family ticket but we don't have long until the park closes so let's hurry.

The woman at the desk nodded to their ticket adeptly ignoring their faces and they stepped/stumbled into the cheery foyer. the wave of excitement finally broke over One's head as the jaunty music washed him through.

Fantastic rainbow-outlined slides lined the room, each beckoning them to enjoy the wonders beyond. Characters in fat chocobo suits hopped around, making kids laugh, handing out leaflets. With the exception of the rather ragged one hanging by the entrance to Event square. His suit didn't look much like a bird and his gaze over the children was a little intense. In fact, he didn't even really seem like he worked there.

One to the map, his head bobbing ridiculously. His hands travelled the image, as though he could be everywhere at once if only he could fall inside. There were shows on; races. The speed square could be great fun. Wonder square with all its games and prizes. So much to choose from. How did they expect you to see everything all in one day?

He ran back to Three, carrying handfuls of leaflets, most of them the same. Handing them wantonly to Three, dropping a great many, he asked the age old question. The question generations of people had turned to each other and asked, none of them quite sure what they wanted to hear. The question without an answer, for was there an answer, the Gold Saucer would not be half as great as it is to this day:

"Right, the chocobos or that roller coaster with the guns?"

[Black Waltz No. 3]

He glared at One for ignoring his plight for a prostitute. Didn't he care if his needs where satisfied? Oh he supposed it wouldn't matter too much. As One grabbed his wrist he allowed his callous glare to resume, grabbing One's wrist back and sinking his talons dangerously close to the vein.

"Fine. If there are no women than you will do. Are we sharing a room or must I go lonely tonight?" he chirruped, looking towards the women at the counter. His gaze softened and he raised a talon to his mouth. Oh, so there where women of the night here, just less obvious. Good, he doubted a groaning hunchback would quench this endless thirst.

Before he could issue any terrible pick up line or force the women to notice him he was dragged off by his deformed friend. Struggling slightly he suddenly came to a still as music molested his ears. It was like ravenous insects infested his mind, chunking off tiny bits of his brain and driving him insane. His eyes widened and he glanced around himself, trying to map out the perimeter inside his mind.

Oh ... Oh GOD this place was horrible. So many flashing lights and eyeless clowns gazing at him from the walls. He felt unnerved, as if he had stepped through the looking glass into some sick, twisted universe. The hallways seemed splattered the colour and "fun", lacking any indication of poor workmanship or indeed cliched luxury. It was neither a grand spectacle or a shit hole, it was somewhere in between, and Three was not terribly used to the change.

He saw Children with rosey cheeks running after large yellow birds and waving balloons. He saw one annoying his dad for a shiny red balloon, and as his dad was trying to pay for it running off. He swore he sensed that kid would be run over or something, but that was totally irrelevant.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. He swore he was going to be sick. He saw One looking at the map. This place was huge! Was it all like this? Colours ripping souls apart? Clowns with sharpened teeth? Chocobos that where neither man nor bird? Was this god's punishment for taking that whore of a sister of his?! Oh, how cruel and twisted this darkened world was.

"One, please, One," he begged, out of breath like a cheap lover, "I need alcohol, is there a bar or anything?" He felt tears ebbing from his eyes, barely able to hold his breath as he shuddered from panic.

He tried to regain composure, but he really did loath fairgrounds. Even the visiting circus's in Alexandria scared the hell out of him, and he had only ever seen their colourful tent spires from a distance. He had no idea where he had developed this fear, after all he served under two Jesters that often seemed like an act from one of the shows. He had seen a myriad of plays from the dark corners of his room, each one of which was falsifying and twisting reality, and yet he simply could not handle the Gold Saucer.

He clutched at the leaflets, scanning them, hoping for any sense of redemption. He spotted what looked like something with guns. Guns.. Fucking guns, he hated the things but today they would be his saving. He heard one propose that almighty question and he turned to him, his response ushered out desperately fast.

"The guns."

He ran ahead of one, pushing past people as fast as he could to get to this ride. Steams of lights and colours seemed to sway past him, ambiguous without any meaning or juxtaposition. The scum of the earth where here and yet he could not tell, too consumed with happiness where they. They licked away at ice cream cones, dabbled tongues sliding over the moist surface. He wanted an Ice cream now god damn it. Yet no! He could not take one, for he feared He may be infected with the same disease that haunted all their zombie-like eyes.

He leapt down a slide, air sucking him towards his destination. The feeling was so unusual as flecks of gold glittered from every wall. He did find some pleasure in the slide though, apart from his wings getting jammed and feathers being ripped out everywhere.

When he was popped out he landed less than elegantly, gripping his ankle where he felt the pain seize him. Yet looking around, he felt calmed. Yes, there where neon lights and multicolored banners, but the platform itself was Grey. Grey and made of cold stone and technology. He felt peace wash over him.

Rising to his feet he ignored the pain in his ankle and slid over towards the door, waiting for his eldest brother.

[Black Waltz No. 3]

One blinked in surprise at the other. He didn't seem to be enjoying himself when they first came in. Maybe the music cheered him up. He did love music after all.

He followed the Third down the slide, giggling childishly as he rolled over headfirst at Three's feet. Spitting feathers, he got to his feet and faced his brother.

"I bet Two will be jealous when she finds out that our task was just to spend a night at the Gold Saucer." he grinned smugly.

"Come to think of it, I wonder why we did get such an easy task. Ah well."

From his ragged jacket, he produced ten glittery silver coins: one side bearing an exaggeratedly happy smiley face, the other, two letters: GP.

The man at the counter opened a single eye to look at the coins and then glanced over the pair of waltzes. Closing it again, he took the coins and murmered almost inaudibly to One.

"The rides for three people. There's, like ... two of you. One of yous is gonna have two guns."

Nodding to the man, One took the tickets and hobbled back to Three.

"The guy said one of us will be firing two guns. Do you want to or should I?"

He climbed into the front seat of the snakelike carriage and strapped in carefully. Lifting one of the guns from its holster in the side, he aimed it around clumsily.

Whistles blew, horns blared and steam rose. The carriage made a grinding sound followed by a whirr. One felt a slight heat as the carriage began to accelerate slowly.

[Black Waltz No. 3]

A smirk coiled around his face when he mentioned her name. Visions encapsulated him, scratches across his chest, ragged, moaning breaths, a flurry of beating wings seeking freedom. Moist warmth buried so deeply to the hilt. Then, that defiant, ethereal gaze that shot straight through him. She would never be his, no matter how many times he took her with force. It made him scowl with displeasure, his animated eyes expressing his ever so common emotion.

"Yes, she will be even more enraged when she discovers how soiled your body became when I take you tonight, One. Aha, won't she be so envious that I can take anyone I so wish when her heart belongs only to me?" He practically laughed at himself for the huge amount of bullshit his mouth just spurted. Though each word dribbled with a sense of sarcasm, there was warning behind those words, a tiny revelation to the insanity that so gripped his mind. Did he believe Two truly loved him? Oh, probably. The tangled mess of strings and neurons and cogs that made that broken mind could not be so easily unraveled.

The question that One proposed was completely ignored. It was obvious what he would be doing, of course he would be manning the main fire power. He was the only one with an IQ above 50 here anyway. The man behind the counter looked like he still had the needle hanging out of his engorged, thick, blue veins. He refused to touch the tickets for fear of getting HIV or whatever other infection he was riddled with.

Sliding into the carriage, he sat down beside One, nursing his ankle. The pain was finally beginning to dissipate, and sitting down made his body cry out with relief. Sighing, he leaned back into the seating. Bringing a wing round he inspected the damage, the edges of the large blue appendages practically ripped to shreds. Needle like fingers made quick work of it, straightening out the rough edges and allowing the feathers to regain form.

His incessant preening was only interrupted by the bashing of baton against the wing. He drew it in sharply, glaring at the offending man.

"Put yer bloody seaty belty on befere I kick yer skinny wee ass, son," the yellow toothed and gray haired man sneered.

Three blinked, instinctively obeying his command, sliding the seatbelt on and turning to face the front, almost hypnotically. Reaching out he grabbed the two guns that hung in front of him, holding them close and lowering his head, staring at the floor. He was being a good boy.

The man waved his hands, waddling off and remarking, "I dunno, kids 'ese days wai der hoodies n der masks. Fuckin' legal homosexuality makin' em do it it is." Wandering into his gatehouse, he slammed his fingers down on the large red button, causing the ride to start.

Three smiled, relaxing in One's company. Somehow, the other brought something out in him. Perhaps it was the stark contrast. Idiocy paired with superior genius? Regardless, he allowed part of his soul to trickle free, the part that wasn't the ravishing, murderous rapist. A hand crept foreward and draped across One's shoulders, sliding down his hunch and settling on his lower back.

"Yes, just look at you. Oh I want you One, you with your gorgeous, twisted, spine"" he practically drooled. "It is such a shame that this!" he grabbed the others bottom, hoping to make him squeal like a pig dressed up as a naughty school girl. "Ruins you."

He waved his hands away as if to rid himself of the disgusting germs that must be festering all across his fingers. Picking up the guns from the floor he returned to his scouting position, tensing his shoulders and preparing for the epic battle that would shape their lives forever.

A golden star jumped over head.

Bullets where fired, the "kecheww, pew pew" noise ringing in his ears. This was it, all or nothing. It was either the star, or him. As the lasers fired the star dodged out of the way, dancing so erotically in front him like an unobtainable forbidden fruit. His energy was being depleted rapidly and his eyes widened as he realized he wasn't going to make it. He wasn't going to fucking make it!

Then, finally, just before the star vanished over the horizon, he landed a hit. It blank excitedly before vanishing, and the points on his gage went up to ten.

Ripping off his seatbelt he rose to his feet, firing the guns in the air Texan style, roaring with defiance. He had done it. He had conquered the star. "YES! YES! WON'T BE SEEING YOU AROUND HERE AGAIN WILL WE? LITTLE STAR FUCK! AHAHA, I EXIST ONLY TO KILL!"

Suddenly though, as the roller coaster reached the peak of a hill, his eyes widened. He almost dropped his guns as his breath was stolen from him. There was a giant spaceship. He fell to his seat, letting his guns go to his side. So, the star was only the start. His seatbelt re buckled, he pulled himself together.

He had to do this. For himself, for Alexandria, for One. But most of all, for Maria. Oh, sweet, sweet Maria. Daddy's gonna see you again, I promise you that.

He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. "FUCK!" he exclaimed, realizing his energy was next to zero and what weak bullets that where coming out weren't even making the thing blink. He looked to One for backup, "If I don't make it, kill that spaceship motherfucker for me. And kill it's hordes of star molesting children. Promise me, Promise me One!"

[Black Waltz No. 3]

Feeling Three's hands travelling his back he lunged forwards.

"Three, don't touch my hunch before a game!" he protested. "It's bad lu-EEEEK!"

Closing his squeal with a snort, he turned and glared at Three. As the coaster pulled up to full speed along the track, the spotlights fell and the game began. Targets of all shapes and sizes circled them; floated about aimlessly and One fired endless volleys of laser beams. Usually to the end result of running out of power and letting his prey escape him.

Three, while seemingly enjoying himself didn't pay much attention to the targets, preferring instead to fire into the back of One's hat, sniggering when his beam ran out of energy. He did, however, seem roused by the first star that they came across. A star which strangely followed them rather than try to escape. One assumed the ride was glitching. Upon the star's demise, Three's ecstatic response indicated that he was finally enjoying the ride. With over sixty points in his bank, One too was getting to enjoy the proceedings.

The two of them battled the spaceship valiantly. Each using the phrase "bro" rather more than usual and promising each other that they'd take good care of Maria. Alas though, the ship could not be defeated and thus escaped to fight another day.

No.

Not another day.

Now it was personal. As they departed the ride, One dragged Three straight back to the entrance queue.

"Three, we can't let that bastard go free to kill again. We can spare 10 GP for the sake of this world. We're going back in.

Buckling in once more, they set off down the track. This time in full swing right from the start, One even turned his hat sideways. Shooting down plane after plane. Cactus after cactus. All in the name of revenge.

A sense of nostalgia washed over him. Such as he had not realised on their last ride. The carriage twisted a corner and entered a cavern full of frozen stalactites and ice crystals.

A burning desire rose inside One and he raised his gun high, taking aim at the coming foes.

If I don't make it out. I have always loved you Sealion.

[Black Waltz No. 3]

Bits of bodies blew past him, great chunky hulks of flesh and bone and blood and sweat. Mud and cigarette buds spun by, so irrelevant and so unwanted now. Ash stuck to his face and the sirens rung loudly in his ears, making his heart race. He felt like he was in 'nam again, whatever that was.

Icicles exploded sharply, their deadly shards cutting through the air and threatening to kill them both. Snowflakes buzzed and zipped, trying to shut out the light and steal the shine from their eyes. It was like an ecaleptic fit with the bright whites and shining lights. Purples and blues hazed into one becoming a swirl of indistinguishable colours and cold before him. He was shooting in the dark, trying to kill something that was invisible to him.

Yet his points rose and rose, shooting upwards exponentially on the meter. Soon the caverns of snow and tundra where left behind, and upwards the coaster roared. Stars twinkled on the horizon, the night sky swallowing up all in sight.

Then! A new enemy dared approach. Oh, it was like playing some game on one of those electronic devices where monsters would fight each other to the death for the sake of a few points of experience, yes, it was as if he had stumbled upon a legendary new pocket monster. It tried to flee from him, unwilling to be shot down in flames, desperately drifting to the air, yet it would only end in its own silent Requiem as he burst the balloon with a satisfying 'POP!'

Red tissue spewed from its corpse, multi coloured confetti a quiet celebration. Yet he could not take satisfaction from its death. It was an innocent, a mere civilian. Yes, it deserved to die because it belonged to a horrid race of people. He knew somehow though, that that balloon was a wife, a mother. Yet he took courage, took perseverance in the fact that that same 'mother' had lain down with one of those monsters that tried to slaughter them. She was no better than a whore of Babylon, sleeping with its spaceship pimp.

So with that he allowed himself to unleash a torrent of laser 'bullets' upon the harem of whorish balloons. Screams echoed in his ear and etched into his soul. He saw the whites of their highlights, wide with terror and glistened even whiter as the bright light that shattered them came closer. One balloon caught his eye as the laser shot forewards to bring its doom. Oh, she was beautiful.

He wiped away a silent tear, looking to One. "These wars, they change a man. We do things we would never do in the real world. Sick, horrible things. But at least, at least they are just," he sighed. He thought of that green balloon again. He would name her Emilia, and though they had never met, she would remain his one true love. Oh, Emilia, forget me not, as I won't you.

His heart thundered. Miniature spaceships dared challenge them. Mutant spawn of their horrible creator. He sensed he was close. So he wiped out those children, probably birthed by the precious floating whores. Oh, he feared he may be killing off Emilia's children, but they dare not live if not birthed by his own hand. Those children of hers would only remind him of her unfaithful ways, they where sinful and born out of marriage, bastards that needed to be wiped out for the sanctity of the world.

"!" he shouted as the ground seemed to suddenly give away and they plunged into pools of hot magma. Rocks flew everywhere and slammed against their cart, lava jumped and licked at them, and that heat, that unbearable heat ploughed down upon them. He couldn't handle it, so intense was the pain he simply had to cast Blizzard on the cart.

He was frozen solid in his block of ice, eyes sealed shut. He could hear only the pulses of ice and water shifting against each other as the block began to shrink. His heart called out in his ear. When finally frost cracked and fell from his eyelashes, he blinked up at the spaceship that hung over them.

This was it. He was going to set Emilia's soul free before this giant bastard sucked her soul back into his evil game. "EXIST TO KILL, ONE, EXIST TO KILL THE HEART OF EVIL" he shouted, trying to pep up his brother. So onwards the two brave warriors fought. Fought harder than any man has ever fought. Like the sweat pouring off the back of the Egyptian slave pushing that block up to the huge pyramids in the sky, yeah, like that sweat, that's what they where like. They where filled with the same passion Jesus had upon the cross, the same that that Zeus had taking Leda, the same that One held for Sealion. Oh yes, it was beautiful. Like a summer sunrise or something like that.

Then! Then! Stardust erupted. The beast was defeated. Ecstasy shot straight through him and he threw himself into the air, puffing his chest out and screaming in joy. They had done it! They had defeated this strange, personified spaceship!

The ride went downhill, and Three slid off, only just managing to hold onto the side by a talon. He gazed up like a Lion might look up to its brother hanging off the side of a cliff. Yet golden light broke through, the lion's brother would not betray him. He grabbed One's hand, hauling himself and in one fluid movement kissed his glorious lips. The camera spun round and round at the epic climax of the movie, capturing each tender movement of their heads. He felt ultimately satisfied. He'd beaten the boss. Got the girl. Saved the world. He truly was, a hero.

They pulled into the station, steam pulsing out as the ride came to a stop. Their kiss was broken when Three pulled away suddenly as he heard shouting,

"YOU TOOK OFF YER SHEATY BELTY, AND YER MAKIN OOT IN MA CAB?!!?! I dun giee a shite aboot the law, im gonna kill ye till yer deid. Wai a rock or somthin'."

He wasn't lying. He picked up a rock, running towards the two Waltzs in some scooby doo esque comedy chase scene that would no doubt ensue.

[Black Waltz No. 3]

Spurred by Three's rallying cries, One fired shot after shot; blue lights piercing in every direction like luminescent birds of prey. His foes torn asunder by the storm of death he and his brother brought, they pulled safely into the dock Releasing both their seatbelts and the terrible weight of war, the brothers stepped onto the platform and back home.

As he wiped sweat, dirt and stellar claret from his brow, he was pulled into a passionate kiss. He descended into an eternal world of relief and passion, cut short only by the greasy, seaty-belty man. One might think that on returning from a war, nothing could terrify you. Nothing could be so shocking as the scarlet rain you experienced every day. Nothing could be so horrific as sitting in the back of a cart sellotaping your best friends body to his legs. Nothing could be so soul-shattering as that moment when you realise your laser is low on power. Well the reality is ...

... nothing but a homophobic conductor wielding a rock and a rather unintelligible dialect.

His legs had never moved him so fast despite having that cramp you get when you sit in a carriage for thirty minutes straight. Never looking back, yet constantly feeling his brother behind him, he veered towards his only escape; the tubes.

Diving into the nearest he could find, he prayed his brother would follow. The slide seemed everlasting; such bittersweet juxtaposition with his heart. When he emerged from the pipe, he was back at the entrance. Sliding out behind him, Three sprawled on the floor. Lending a hand to help him up, One dragged his brother to another pipe, desperate to escape from the impending man.

Pipe after pipe they traveled, occasionally and most comically realising that they were chasing their pursuer. Just when they thought they could flee no more, the emerged in Wonder Square to witness the tip of Seaty-belty man's shoe vanishing down one of the pipes.

Finally safe, One held to his brother for support.
"It's finally over Three. We thought we'd never escape but we have."

His eyeballs sparkling, a tear rolling down his cheek, the First gazed up to the other and caught sight of the area behind him.
The grimy action-film soundtrack was washed from his head; replaced with the popcorn music of the Gold Saucer.

Memories of neon flooded back and a smile spread across One's face. His eyes were drawn to the basketball game.

"Three. If we were ever good at anything, it's basketball. We can do this. We've conquered the mountain of combat. Now its time for the Everest of sports. Are you with me?"

[Black Waltz No. 3]

They had escaped. They had survived the final, last, epic boss. Sunrises rose over canyons, wolves howled to an unborn moon, Richard Hammond's car broke down 6000 meters above sea level. Everything was right, everything slotted back into the correct places. Funny, he thought he would be left with some epic feeling of satisfaction. But no, he felt more like a hollowed balloon. It was a feeling of sadness almost?

He was quickly coming down off his high. His skin felt watery, his eyes tired. Already he was beginning to regret the events that had occurred. He felt One's grip around his waist, his body tingling with the sudden excitement and thoughts of what he could do to his brother. No. No, not tonight.

He tried desperately to cover up his new found homosexual lust, pushing one away and pointing at a scantily clad black women who was for some miraculous reason just passing by. He thought for a moment, shaking his head. No, no, not controversial enough. Moving his hand to wards an overly fat women drooling and probably born with a smooth brain, he paused, considering, but no. No, too controversial. He pulled his hand back, sticking a talon in his mouth, eyes scanning the perimeter as one said something about being victorious. God, was he still playing that up? That was so five minutes ago.

Ah! Yes, that person would do. He pointed his talon proudly to a slender women with long red hair and crappy, makeshift pink wings protruding from her back. She was probably just an furfag or something, which was just on the mark of being both belivable and enough to throw One off. "Oh, One, is she not gorgeous? Look at..." he tried to pick out something attractive about her, "Her... Clothing. Does it not remind you of Two? Oh, but, she actually pulls it off. Would you?"

He smiled slightly, turning to his partner. His smile quickly;y turned to a scowl as the other started to talk about sports. "Oh, come on. One, last time you had to play basketball you weren't fed for a month to repay the broken glass. Two, stop acting as if we are buddies now. We where only on a simple mission. It would have ran smoother if your existence had been terminated while you where still in the egg."

He turned snidely, swinging his hips slightly over to the woman. He reached a hand out, tapping on her shoulders, hoping to scrounge alcohol or at least the location of the bar off of her. When she turned to face him however his eyes widened. He took a slow step back, raising his hands and shaking his head. Eerie sounds whistled in his ears and he felt birds ripping out his toes. Oh lord. Oh god in heaven.

He ripped his gaze from her, pelting to wards One and gruffly grabbing hold of his wrist, practically dragging his brother away from her and into another wide tunnel. "Never, never let me-"

He was cut short by a robot cab shoving a fortune into his hand before driving away. Looking down he read what was printed on the page, glaring slightly.


'GAY RIGHTS ARE NOT CIVIL RIGHTS. Vote for a Day without a Gay!'


What the hell was with all this anti-homosexuality in this place? And why did it have to circulate him. Tossing the leaflet into the air he walked ahead to wards the green light that illuminated the end of then tunnel.

Upon reaching the end, he realized what he had come too. It was a large wooden building, carved with strange symbols and embedded in grayish soil. Grave stones sat upright, marking out the names of the various squares, an obvious equivalent to the tunnels or shoots. Ghosts swirled in the skies, dancing in some ethereal fashion. Black cats chased after huge rats that scurried beneath their feet. Pumpkins glared with hollow eyes and maggot infested mouths.

This was the cheesiest, crappiest hotel he had ever seen in his entire life. He knew already what the inside decor would be like. Shabby, tacky, overdone. No doubt cobwebs would stick to everything and the beds themselves would be coffins. Their host would probably be an estranged butler who drolled out his sentences and held a creepy laugh. Oh ho ho, what fun.

He glanced at One. No doubt the eldest waltz would be scared. He sighed, trotting on a head and pushing the door open, holding it open and looking back after the First. Raising his voice slight, he called, "If I wake up tonight to find your hulking body over my crotch area, I will not hesitate to kill you, you understand?"