Paggaz Chronicles

The one, the only and the best

12/19/2012

Ryan Aaron Ruddy

Our story begins, as these types of stories often do, with a young up-and-coming Storm. He's a deeply spiritual man and has different types of qualities .He's got a completely great crazed-minded and has no regard for the political process. The more threats he gets, the more obvious his zoolatry and the more aggressive his supporters will become to fight back at them. Eventually, his people launched a special project in the name of national security. At the first ever time, it's yet to be believed that there is a man who walks in the moment of madness and is pursued without regard to its cost.

However, the true goal of this so-called projects is to have an adventure and standing for what he and his people stand for. Complete and utter humour domination. The project, however, did end disappointing. But the efforts of those involved are not in vain, for a new ability to rage battle is born from the blood of the vicious victims. Imagine a basic virus, the most terrifying virus you can, and then imagine that you and you alone have the cure. But if you're ultimate goal is which is power, how best to use such a weapon?
It is at this point in our story that along comes a spider: He is a man seemingly without a conscience for whom the ends always justify the meanings, and it is he who suggests that their target should not be an enemy of the country, but rather the country itself. Three targets are chosen to maximize the effect of the attack: the environment, the people, and the elements to survive. Several hundred die within the first few weeks.
Fuelled by the media, fear and panic spread quickly, fracturing and dividing the whole world until at least the true goals comes into view. No one would have predicted the actions of this particular mad man anytime of the year, no one. And then not long after his section at rehab, look and behold a miracle! Some believed it was the work of God Himself, but it was a pharmaceutical company controlled by certain people that made him near normal.

A year later, several methods are tried, found useless and scrapped while a cabinet of files was built to remember the past for the future references. But the end results, are the true genius of the plans, was the fear. Fear became the ultimate tool of this life, and through it all our lifers was ultimately appointed to the newly created position of philosophy. The rest, as they say, is history.

The autumn moon beat coldly down upon this city called Newcastle. The city of the Geordies, a species of people who or what thought it was about time and to do something for themselves. They are really clever aren't they? Pagan is an international business man. He is an average bloke who crossed the streets and kept on walking, due to walk into the town in a few minutes' time.

Walking downwind upon this motor way. Heading down south. Seeking a new horizon. He couldn't suppress a twinge of resentment at the pressure in his presence added to an already gut-twisting situation. Pagan had never forgotten his past life, a bit, looking for something new for future reverences and excitement. You don't know when you need one. In his line of work he gets the knack of imagination and thinking. He had a fantastic three weeks in France, 1869. All his trips throughout time and space have changed him for the better and the worst.

There is the night sky filled with swirling clouds, stars ablaze with their own luminescence, and a bright crescent moon. The rolling hills of the horizon lay a small town. There is a peaceful essence flowing from the structures. Perhaps the cool dark colors and the fiery windows spark memories of our own warm childhood years filled with imagination of what exists in the night and dark starry skies. The center point of the town is the tall steeple of the church, reigning largely over the smaller buildings.

This steeple casts down a sense of stability onto the town, and also creates a sense of size and seclusion. There is a massive dark structure that develops an even greater sense of size and isolation. This structure is magnificent when compared to the scale of other objects in the foreground. The curving lines mirror that of the sky and create the sensation of depth. Gray rockets scream as they rise from the far side of a border town. Emerging from the smoke and dust, an outsider wearing a poncho approaches a gang of bandits.

He paused, and then said:-

"I shall go by four minutes hence."

Then he continued:-

"I am something of a medical man; I know in such a strange fashion that the last few weeks had drawn on for a while. Yesterday, only at my wide feet were cold; at present, the chilled sensation had come up to my waist; now I feel it reaching to my wide based chest; when it reaches the heart, I shall die. The crimson sun is delightful, isn't it not? You have done very well to come up here and look at a half decent bloke who is on the blink of death. It is well that there should be a few witnesses at that specific moment of time. Every life has its own troubles; I should have liked to the very last until the fallen of night, but I know that I shall hardly last if only I just have to fucking regenerate into a new form. What does it matter to any one, after all? Dying is such a simple affair. One has no need of the sunlight for that. So then just let it be then. I shall regenerate into a new form by starlight."

The undergrowth of the trees is like dark lines that have followed the movements of the hush; the leaves thickly cover the branches as if the stillness wanted to conceal itself. The forest is like a great reservoir of silence out of which the silence trickles in a thin, slow stream and fills the air with its silvery brightness. The wind blow like a million pipes had played the air. The moon gleamed as the fingers of purple cloud that scudded across its face. Sending sparkling highlight flickering over the foaming trees and overgrown shrubbery down below.

The silent creaking of the tree branches and there were whispers throughout each blow of wind. A silent jibber jabber of a crowed of beetles in the foreground. Twisting misshaped trees whistled violently as the grey smoky clouds seemed to sweep the life out of the forest as they crept across the sky. There were black toadstools hanging from molding shrubbery and there was a bitter feeling in the atmosphere. The eerie chill in the air made a shudder with a tingle down the spine. There were Soft footsteps and heavy breathing. There was a howling growl from behind the curtain of dead bushes. The feeling of being watched by someone or something. The silver leaves of the vegetation did tremble with a sparkle with a reflection of the vivid ginger moon.

A burst of friary energy blasted through Paggaz's limbs, more like bursts of fireworks and all his whole body seemed to transformed more differently but similar to the last recognition but this time he seems to be shorter and more ginger. See that snake tattoo. The mark of the eldest religions in the universe. He had the snake as a tattoo in most regeneration. Did not feel himself unless he had that tattoo. Or herself a couple of times. Ooohhh, what a bad character! This isn't a mission difficult; mission impossible would be a walk in a park for the worst of the best people. He's got all the training he needs. You know the hardest part of portray, you grin like an idiot every twenty minutes like an idiot and there is nothing to do about it. He loves humans. Always seeing different patterns in the skies that are not there. He does not interfere because humans got to handle things on their own. That is when the human race will finally grow up like the rest of the universe. Just this morning you all were so small and tiny and made of clay. Now you all can just expand.

People cannot rewrite history. Not even one line! One day, Pagan shall come back and until then, there mustn't be any regrets, no tears, and no anxieties. Just go forward in all of your believes and prove him wrong that he is not mistaken in mind. Well, Pagan is not the person he used to be... basically he was a woman before he regenerated into his new but male form.

Pagan has things to do. Things involving other things. For his part he does know only little with any certainty but the sight of the stars makes him dream of so much more. Great things are done with a series of small things brought together. Pagan feels that there is nothing as more truly artistic than just to love the people that are close to you. He often thought that the night is more alive and richer with color than a distant day. He wishes that the human race will take him for what he is. It is more important to be high-spirited even though one makes more mistakes. The experience of time and space, it dazzles. I mean, it blinds you to all things that are most important. I've seen it destroy relationships entirely. Because for even one person that, to have tasted the glorious tender, and then to go back. It will basically tear your mind apart.

There is something not quite that right ... ... Pagan seemed to get off to the wrong foot. Life is not that simple. Life is a foreign language to people who don't understand it properly. The purpose of life is to fight against maturity. Life is something that everyone must try just once. There is only one way that Pagan could tell anyone his real name. There's only one time he could. Then that very night, Pagan wondered off to walk to his QWERTY.

Autistics are a faith and it imposes the duty to disregard public opinion. What is life be if we all have no courage to attempt anything? Why are human minds so suspicious? Should they answer chronologically or alphabetically? There are only a few cases yet intrigues Pagan at this precise moment. The curious case of life's journeys. He has been studying his companion's comings and goings, they appear mostly... sinister.

Humans! God, why does Pagan even bother with them all? Some are the most irrupting at times. Most of the time they are invariable. He wonders in how many things had passed me by, despite the thoughts and wonders of complex reality of this small little world. He cannot figure out the meaning of normal and the thought of normal. What is normal anyway? The time if thinking is a long time ago. He thought of normal for a while, usually it is a strange to explain to him. That is one of many questions. Things in that impossible mind, he cannot explain in such words but some people do need to explain in words.

Does it matter that the mind is a strange thing to understand? Does god understand the complex wonders of the whole universe? It is hard to understand or get the grasp of things in this magnificent universe. Some people may think that this is a pile of dog shit by now but carry on. If you will? Is it that he has the whole world wrong? Darkness and lightness. You and me. Time and space. You watch us run. Time is running out for us all but we all cannot explain the answer. It is impossible to find the real answer or truth. Freedom? Freedom is the world's biggest lie and if you accept that lie then you have heart. The heart can be for the taken. It is too much to understand the reality of the human beings out there in a real world.

People say money doesn't make the world go around in circles and that. Times moves on like a stream of consciousness. The real silence will fall when the oldest question is asked and never answered. The big bad wolf will be coming after us all. Shadows that fall within itself. Darkness will rule the land of humans. Time is running out. Paggaz's time will come when the question is asked. Paggaz pulled a silver key out of his inner pocket of his long leather jacket. Inserting into the keyhole of the QWERTY. He looked delighted enough. There was a glimmer in his eyes.

Everyone can be a winner if they put their mind to it. Getting louder than ever than before. Can you hear it? It could be the end of time itself. Not until come to a fall. Out like a light. Fallow by the stars of the future. What will the future holds? Pagan has things to do. Things consisting other things. He likes things. Ask anybody. They will certainly agree. You have to take things by the horns and wrestle it to the ground. We all got that particular something about them. Choose your answers wisely. That is more like it. Time will come. Death is a certainty for all. But the punch line is when it will be. Everyone deserves a death but we cannot choose our times. Apart from suicide. Our time is the cost. Just keep your faith which will help you to stay alive.

There is a story behind every face. Torn by the beast. Whispers from beyond the graves. The voices are calling out to all of us. The heavy heart beats that never stop. The feeling of lost and loneliness. Getting on with it. Fighting against our sorrows with the proper care of solace and solitude. Afraid of losing control. Witnessing the truth behind the story. Always catching us all out. We cannot explain it all. Just waiting for that certain someone to go with and there is a dream to come true. No time going back. Pagan stands over the graves of dead companions from the distant past and future. He has been running all of his life... It is not the right time to stop. Why should he stop? He has been knocking around a bit, a sort of a farewell tour. Things to do and there is always more to do then forever more. It is all still going on, for him it doesn't stop. He is an ancient creature, drenched in blood of the innocent ... Drifting through space through an endless shifting maze... For such a terrible creature, death would be a gift.

The dream of an average death. Weapon after weapon after weapon. All you do is talk and talk and talk. But after all these long years and all these disasters, Pagan has always had the greatest secret of them all. He knows you. It will be a trip of a life time.

"You are running away from yourself mate." Kasha shouted who sat on the giant bean bag upon the flooring.

"I would have hoped that I was because I would let myself get away." answered Pagan smugly.

"I've got a theory that you are drunk yet again!"

"No, I have remained drunk since our last bleeding encounter." slurred Pagan.

"We should call the fucking police." Laughed Kasha Stark

"You are a fucking member of the police. You would better call the bleeding GHOSTBUSTERS." Sniffed Pagan whilst rushing around the controls.

"This is so much total madness to fit in one text message. Even if you are an alien, I got nothing to worry about." said Kasha Blanca." I'm shitting myself isn't, but all the same time..."

"What?"

''This is totally utter sick."

As we learn about each other, so we do learn about ourselves. Dreams are so important... never misunderstand them. Oh, Pagan I am totally convinced that you are uttering mad. He is only at his worst. Nobody is perfect. Pagan is not just from a different culture but he is from a whole different world. Liberal outrage against itself. Evil does lurk in every shadowy corner.

"Have you been drinking again, Pagan?"

"Yeah, I had a few fucking drinks!"

"Do you want to drink again, Pagan?"

"Yeah, maybe you should. Maybe you should."

"I don't like things changing."

"Finally she admits it. That is better. Its better that she admits it. So we can start to rebuild. Get out a few bottles of Cactus Jacks out of the fridge, mate. The cherry flavor just hits the spot."

"Pagan? What happened to that woman?"

"Yeah. What woman do you mean?"

"You know which woman I am speaking about."

"Ooohhh. I think I know who you mean. The tall pale one?"

"Yeah. She was such a sweet girl. She was so polite. I always liked her. Whatever happened to her?"

"Did you, Kasha? I never have guessed. I think that she just slipped away. I think."

Tomorrow is a new day. Yesterday is history. Makes us all think. Can we trust anyone these days? It doesn't always work out properly. People out there wanting respect. Some must be joking. They make you laugh don't they? These humans. Don't get me wrong that some are alright but other seems so out there. How can I act more human? Why should Pagan change for people? People say that you are your own person but they may be the first to complain if there is any fault. When you run with life, it feels like it'll never end, but however hard you try you can't run forever. Everybody knows everyone dies and no one knows it more than us all, but I think that all the skies of the world will turn dark if we ever, for one moment, accept it. There must be a goblin, or a trickster, or a warrior- a nameless, terrible thing, soaked in the blood of billion galaxies. The most feared thing in the whole cosmos, and nothing could stop it, or hold it, or reason with it. One day it would just drop from the sky and tear down your world. It is death which is coming. How did it end up amongst us? You know fairy tales. A good wizard tricked it. I hate fairy tales; they always turn out to be true or based on something true. I remember some of the good old days.

Everyone would like to see what is going on, down and out. Starting to find out who is who. Everything which done or about to happen in life stays with you until the end of life. Pagan did business with the local ambassadors of Treitzerburge nebular system. It is going to be for the ambassadors' homosexual business. Pagan sold the ambassadors nine thousand million boxes of vibrators in different colors. Pagan doesn't want to be a total plunked all of his whole life. Earning a living through time and space, whilst finding different journeys across the galaxies.

Paggaz helped to direct the seventh series film of ' Revenge of professor Green fingers'... He was trying to make it big in Ghobiwood of nebula five. Trying to have an impact. But they all may forget and perish into nothingness. Ha, ha, ha. Paggaz took his recent companions to the famous opera house in the whole entire cosmos to see, The Goblin of The Opera, for Kasha's 18th birthday whilst posting digital photographs on Space-book. And text messaging Adolf Hitler a few death threats. Kasha thinks that Carlos Minion is an alright red wine. Very fruity. They got a meeting at Goodfellas Strategy next week at 09:30 am until 16:00 pm. There is not that much words spoken or sounds heard... Apart from the sound of ticking from the nearby clocks. As the twin purple suns goes down and the three crimson moons will rise. Every man has to die. It is written in the stars upon the skies. Some doesn't want to go.

Charles Stimson is one of them men who don't want to leave this world. People are going nothing can be done. Charles just punched a troll from behind because he got his pint spilt. It was great in 17th century France. Do not let anyone get in your way ... If you don't look after you then no one will. You would do it on your own until it is your time to go. Don't let anyone get you down. Life is the same for everyone but told in different details. Making their own story. Charles and Gabby Timson are trying to make their own story of their own but still need a little bit of help. They would like to make and leave their story or stories behind.

Kasha and Paggaz went to the nearby library and the crematorium. To visit Kasha's grandmother from her father's side of the family, visiting her grave stone. Paggaz doesn't want to die alone. People could even call him a coward. He may as well talk to himself. No one listens. Life is different. It takes time. Trying to be responsible. The companions woke up about an hour and a half ago. Charles had seven bananas and two slices of toast for breakfast. Gabby is a little bit bored. Got nothing else to do apart from going on a walk to the city. New York. They want to see there is going to be happening. Even go to the Oracular cinema to watch a new film. Do more stuff that will put excitement into that spring evening.

Charles and Gabby have speeded a bit of time in New York. Sat in a local church, did a few prays and read a few leaflets. Also listened to the organ playing. It played three or four rhymes from the bible. There was a leaflet, says anyone can do a 2 or 3 year coarse on being a headless monk. Act on your instincts. That is what Pagan normally says. Take nothing to grant. They think they might go to church every Sunday. Pagan may and get an appointment with a hospital. For the chest and breathing problem. Because he wouldn't like to have a heart attack to both of his two hearts. He's got all his life to live.

Paggaz would like to see his past generations of his earlier self's. Pagan already had done that headless priest diploma. So he is partly a priest but not headless. Their problems could be simpler to anyone's. Family and friends. Remembering can be the worst curse. Death is worse. Seek the bleeding last. Staying alive till the end. Pagan still got a little bit of left heart pain. He does not know what is wrong with him. But it is fine. He will book an appointment with the doctors. Maybe go to the RVI.

Pagan at the royal Victorian infirmary. To check up on his breathing and his chest. Hope it is not serious. Have to wait 3 hours. A quick check up. The medical doctors probably say it's nothing. Gabby just made up a cigarette and went outside the hospital to smoke it. Charles told her to be careful. It has been 3 or 4 hours ago that Kasha applied for the job in Calydon Kitchen on Calydon Street. She had to give them her name and contact phone number. Her, working in a cafe. It'll be her sixth job if she gets it. It is almost time for Pagan to get in the checkup.

He went in for the check up with a doctor and a nurse. They checked his hearts rate, pulse and temperature. Paggaz's hearts rate was high and pulse is low. They say to him if it lasts more than a week or so then go to a general practice. The general practice may send Pagan back to hospital. So they would keep him in the hospital for 24 hours. So they could keep an eye upon him. It's mainly the hearts that is given him the jip. It is the anxiety or something. So Pagan has to keep himself calm so that his hearts doesn't go crazy. Calm him down because he doesn't want to regenerate yet again...

"For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, for Jerusalem's sake I will not remain quiet" (Isaiah 62:1)

Kasha's pet cat, "Smudge" had died today. The cat passed on at 03:00AM. So Kasha and the others had to bury the cat in a black hole at 10:00 AM today but Kasha couldn't do it so Charles had to finish the job. They thought it was exam results day. So they went and checked at college. They say it is this Thursday. Gabby knows every life has its time and it must end but she will not be ready for that. She thinks that no one will be ready. It was upsetting to find the pet cat dead in the living room down stairs in the QWERTY. It was been 8 years that they had the cat. Paggaz is worried about everyone's health. That is getting him worrying also. His hearts are racing a little bit more. About at 7pm or 8pm Pagan think that he had a small panic attack. Because he was sort of worrying. Hearts rate going faster and it seemed that the blood was rushing up into his head. Everyone is drunk again. They are argued with themselves. They would like to have a fight with each other and then Paggaz told them that they can when they are sober.

It was like that he had a mini heart attack or something. Also he had been waiting for everyone to go asleep so that he can go running in 54th century Moscow. Paggaz is going to check up on all of his companions. Encase anything happens. God forbid. And he checks on the dog also. It is a little bit quite tonight. The distant sound of the distant traffic on the motor way. Still bit drunk from the cherry flavored Cactus Jacks. Paggaz's hearts rate seems alright at the moment. He is still trying to line up a cigarette now. He switched on the light in the control room of the QWERTY.

Four years after they had defeated the last of Loki's army the avengers were very exhausted and extremely hung "superheroes" all sat around a table in a relatively unscathed restaurant, staring at their empty plates.

"I'm still hungry," Kasha announced, finally breaking the silence. "Anybody wants seconds?" he asked and was immediately bombarded by requests. Even the slightly Professor Roger Knutson joined in. The only people at the table that were notably silent were S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Gabby Stimson and her partner, Charles Cosmo. Neither one of them had said much nor, in return, the others hadn't said anything to them either.

General Britannia, or Graeme Regan as he was more commonly known, felt strangely guilty. It wasn't Charles's fault that Loki had brainwashed him yet everyone was acting as if it was, sneaking surreptious glances at him in Roger's case or, in Kashiwa's case, outright staring at him. Judging by the way Charles stared resolutely at the floor and the way Gabby alternated between smiling worriedly at him and glaring at the others, Graeme suspected that they had noticed as well.

Thor, who was completely oblivious to everything that was going on around him, continued eating with gusto. Halfway through his third plate he happened to glance up just in time to see Gabby deliver a perfectly well-aimed death glare or Kasha who didn't seem to be the least bit phased by it. Charles was still staring at the tops of his black boots that rested on the edge of Gaby's chair while Graeme and Roger alternated between looking at the quiet archer and watching the silent stare-off between Gabby and Kasha.

"What did I miss?" the Guardian asked, startling all of them. Even Charles looked up, allowing Thor to catch a glimpse of all the self-loathing in the man's blue eyes before he looked back down again.

"Did I miss anything?" Thor repeated firmly, resolving to corner the archer and have a few words with him regarding Loki and his brainwashing.

"Nothing!" Kasha said brightly as he turned to face the entire group. "In fact, I was just about to propose a toast. To the Avengers!" they all raised their glasses except for Charles who reluctantly raised his but only after Gabby gave him a look, then each took a drink before setting the glasses back down.

"Now," Kasha announced. "I have something that I want to discuss with you guys. And Gabby of course," he added as an afterthought. Curious everyone, even Charles looked up briefly, turned to face the billionaire who was now standing, albeit swaying ever so slightly from lack of sleep and the consumption of too much alcohol. "Today we accomplished together what none of us could have done alone; we took down Loki (no offense, Thor) (none taken), we kicked his Guardian butt and we also showed the entire galaxy what Earth can do…" he was interrupted by, off all people, Charles Cosmo.

"They'll be back you know," Cosmo's voice was low, serious.

"The aliens?" Kasha snorted. "If they're smart then they'll stay in space, where they belong."

Charles shook his head. "They are smart. That's why they'll come back."

"But if they're smart then why would they come back?" Roger wanted to know.

"Because they're stupid," Kasha interrupted, glaring at Charles who shrank back even as Gabby placed a comforting hand on his knee while she sent Kasha yet another glare.

"Should I be keeping score?" Roger felt obligated to ask.

"I don't know," Graeme shrugged. "But if you are going to keep score then I suggest you hurry. I have a feeling that whatever he's going to say next it will earn him a lot more," he advised. Roger nodded then pulled out a notebook and pen and began writing furiously.

"As I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted," Roger continued, wondering what Bruce was writing that made her giggle. "We made a pretty good team out there today and I don't think we should go our separate ways." That definitely got everyone's attention for they all gaped at him, mouths wide in shock. Pleased that they were all listening to him Kasha pushed on eagerly. "Why don't we stay the Avengers…permanently? I have a large, airy mansion that just needs a little work…"

"A little work?" Graeme raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, a lot of work," Kasha admitted. "But, anyway, after it's been fixed we can all move in. That way we'll always be nearby when the city needs us. Well what do you think?" he spread his arms wide then frowned when he realized that no one had answered him. "Uh guys?"

No answer.

They merely continued staring ahead thoughtfully. "Guys?" Kasha sighed heavily. "Fine, I'll do this the hard way. Thor? What do you think?"
"Well," Thor began. "First I must say thank you for your kind invitation. But I fear that I must decline your invitation. At least until after my brother Loki has been sentenced. After that, if I am not needed in Dastards, then I will return to Earth and accept your offer. If it is still open that is," he added.

Kasha smiled. "It's always open," he assured the demi-god. "Roger?"

The scientists hesitated. On one hand this was the opportunity of a lifetime; Kasha Stark was one of the most brilliant scientists that had ever lived and he was offering Roger access to his laboratory. It was the dream of a lifetime and one of Roger's that he had always longed for. But, on the other hand, it was far too dangerous for them. For any of them. 'The other Gal' didn't like laboratories and he wasn't too overly fond of the Avengers either even if he had saved Kasha's life.

She was going to shake her head; decline but then she happened to catch a glimpse of Charles Cosmo. She looked so…so much like herself that she discovered she couldn't refuse Kasha's offer. If she, if the Shola, had no chance to make up for everything that they had done then what chance did Charles have? What chance did any of them have, really? "Yes," she said, unknowingly surprising everyone and giving Charles just the tiniest sliver of hope.

"General?"

Graeme sat there and thought. And as he thought he looked around the table at each one sitting there. Code names sprang into his head only to be replaced by names and character observations. Iron Maiden. Kasha Stark. A self-centered billionaire who was willing to sacrifice her privacy in order to provide a home for social outcasts that had just saved the world. Prince of Thunder. Thor. He hadn't hesitated to take down his brother in order to save his newfound home. He was a very loyal, very trustworthy friend, warrior, brother. The Shola. Doctor Roger Knutson. The woman who had created a monster while trying to re-create the 'perfect soldier'. The same woman who had unleashed her beast in order to save the world. Red Howler. Gabby Stimson. The perfect female assassin. Tall, slender, beautiful…she knew how to use her body as a tool and didn't seem to mind. Yet, hidden deep within her, was a fierce loyalty, one which manifested itself in the way that she stayed close to Charles, occasionally gripping his fingers and squeezing them.

Her partner. Sparrow claw. Charles Cosmo. It was a rather strange partnership Graeme had to admit, but it was also an effective one. Charles was the best marksman Graeme had ever seen, and that was saying something, and yet he hadn't killed Loki when he had the chance. Instead he had glanced at Thor then lowered his bow. It was at that point Graeme realized that, despite everything that Loki had done to him, Charles Cosmo was not a killer. Judging by the self-loathing and guilt pouring off the archer Graeme suspected that (much like Gabby) Charles kept his feelings to himself. And then there was him. General Britannia. Graeme Smith. The first Avenger.

The man who was trapped in a moment of time that had ended ninety years ago. But these people sitting around the table, they had given him a purpose, a reason to fight, to live. "Yes," he said at last. "I'll join the Avengers."

Kasha smiled, looking oddly pleased then turned to the master assassins. "Gabby?"

Instead of answering the redhead turned to Charles and began speaking in a foreign language. Make that languages, Graeme mentally corrected after hearing both German and Russian along with several other languages that he didn't recognize. "Are they speaking Pig Latin?" Kasha asked in amazement.

Roger Knutson shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "But that was definitely Hungarian."

"I was not aware that Midgardians had mastered all of our languages," Thor looked impressed.

"Do you understand what they're saying?" Kasha asked eagerly. At Thor's nod Kasha said, "Can you tell us what they're saying?"

Thor hesitated then reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he sighed. "I could tell you but I don't think I will not. If they had intended for us to hear what they were saying then they would not have gone to all the trouble of using a different language."

"Then how do you know what they're saying?" Graeme smith wanted to know what Kasha crossed his arms and smiled triumphantly.

"If you recall from your history lessons it said that we visited Earth many times, bringing with us many wondrous gifts and languages."

"So what you're saying is that, basically, you know every language on Earth, correct?" Kasha asked.

After considering Iron Maiden's words for a few minutes Thor nodded once more. "Yes that is correct," he confirmed.

"So what do you think?" Gabby asked, turning to face her partner.

Charles shrugged. "I don't know; what do you think?"

Gabby sighed in exasperation. "Charles…" she began.

"It's a good offer; a really good one. You should accept it," he said quietly.

"Don't you mean 'we'?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"No, I mean you," he corrected.

Gabby looked at him for a second then let out a short laugh. "If you think, even for just one second, that I'm joining without you then you're crazy."

"What if they don't want me to join?" Charles inclined his head towards the other four people at the table that were watching them.

Gabby spared them a glance then turned back to face her partner. "Then neither one of us will join," she declared then her face softened. "Charles," she whispered, gently taking his face in her hands. "It wasn't your fault. Loki was the one responsible for everything. They know that and they don't blame you; just like I don't blame you."

"But I tried to kill you," he tried to turn his head but Gabby wouldn't' let him.

"Look, Charles, Paggaz managed to install a trapdoor in Loki's doomsday device while he was under Loki's spell…" her voice trailed off when she saw even more guilt and shame appears on his face. In an attempt to rectify what she had just said Gabby hurriedly continued. "You might not have built a trapdoor, Charles, but you didn't kill me. You and I both know perfectly well that if Loki had had complete control over you there is no way whatsoever that I would still be alive." She smiled at him in an attempt to make him feel better.

To her relief Charles smiled back. It didn't even begin to compare to his real smile but Gabby figured that she would take what she could get. "So what do you say? Want to join the Avengers with me?"

Charles hesitated. Gabby could see the indecision wavering in Charles green eyes. She tensed and only allowed herself to relax once Charles had reluctantly nodded. "Sure," he sighed. "Why not? It's either that or go visit a shrink," he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"No shrinks," Gabby agreed with a smile. She then turned to face the others and said, "Charles and I accept your offer."

Kasha blinked, looking surprised then quickly recovered. "Okay," she said. "Well I guess that saves me the trouble of having to ask twice." she raised her glass once more. "To the Avengers!"

"To the Avengers!" everyone else echoed loudly as they too raised their glasses. "To the Avengers!"

Paggaz bet you have never met anyone who has met superheroes before huh? Yeah he has and this is the story. It was a chilled summer night and Paggaz had just left his QWERTY which held his abusive truth. He was walking through an open country stretch when he noticed he was being watched.

Paggaz is a broad man wearing a glass eye and a leather black jacket. It was really starting to scare everyone. He started to slowly speed up his pace, and then Paggaz just walks away. All of a sudden a cloth was put over his mouth and he heard a low voice saying "I've got the cunt."

Then everything was black. Paggaz don't know how long he was out but he had woken up in a strange room. All of the walls were glass, the room was circular, and the ground was some type of metal painted yellow. One of the first things Paggaz noticed was the man who was watching him before.

"Where am I? Who are you?" Paggaz stammered.

"You are in a containment unit for a government agency called S.H.I.E.L.D. You are to be under observation and containment until further notice. If you even as to fracture the glass around the unit, a hole will open up and you will be dropped 2,000 feet. "The man responded and walked out as silent as a whisper.''

Paggaz stared in disbelief as the man walked away and guards closed the door behind him. Paggaz admit he was a bit scared that he didn't know what to do. The outside room was large and empty. Paggaz walked up as far as he could to where the man was standing and strained to see anything might help him.

After a while Paggaz gave up and sprawled out on a bench. He must have fallen asleep for a while because once again as he opened his eyes he saw another strange woman watching him. Her hair was spiked up in a casual way and she had a weird styled ear rings. There was a circular pattern glowing in the middle of her chest. Her head was tilted very slightly and there was a nearly unnoticeable flicker of a smile on her lips.

"So you must be the infamous Paggaz," She proclaimed. "Roger Knutson talks nonstop about you. She is always saying 'Don't go looking for Paggaz'

'Paggaz is not to be engaged.' Basically you don't look like a threat to me." she continued.

"I don't know what you are talking about Madame." Paggaz responded.

"Oh right He probably didn't tell you much. What did he tell you?"

"All he said was I am to be watched and it's something for an agency called S.H.E.I.L.D. May I ask who you are sir?"

"Ah I am surprised he told you the name. Anyways the names Kasha Stark and please stop with the formalities. 'Madame' is really not my style."

"Sorry but I must insist on calling you not by your first name for it is too impolite, may I call you Mrs. Stark?"

"Sure why not. I wish I could but I can't get you out of here but I did find you're QWERTY. I swear I did not go through it that was left to security."

"Wait you said Roger Knutson was telling you not to go looking for me yet you looked for me anyways. Why?"

"Curious little bugger aren't you? I actually stumbled upon you by accident I was told to come check out the machinery down here and well there you were asleep and I kind of guessed who you were." Kasha smiled and opened the door a crack and slipped into the QWERTY. "I promise I won't let you stay here all alone every day I'll come and check on you."

Paggaz smiled at that. "Thanks." Paggaz whispered as Kasha walked out. Paggaz stepped over to his QWERTY and unlocked it so he could go in. Everything was a mess clearly someone had been through it. Paggaz quickly refolded everything and placed it neatly back in the QWERTY except for one of the machinery he had parked. He putted the QWERTY on invisible.

If he was being watched then they just saw the whole conversation between Mrs. Stark and Paggaz. Unless Mrs. Stark was the one watching him. Either way he might get in trouble with everyone, Paggaz silently prayed Mrs. Stark would be okay. It would have been nearly impossible for Paggaz to keep track of how long he was in the unit if it hadn't been for Mrs. Stark telling him the date every time she came. He found out that Kasha came every Monday and Friday. Except today, today was Wednesday and Kasha didn't come alone. This time there was a pretty red head in all black next to her.

"Is this your sister Mrs. Stark?" Paggaz joked knowing his real sister was at her real home.

"No, this is actually one of my colleagues Gabby Gibson." Aswan responded taking a sip from her bottle of Cactus Jacks.

"Nice to meet you ma'am," he nodded and flashed a smile.

"The same goes to you." She responded.

Mrs. Stark stood there looking so proud for introducing them. He gave a sheepish smile and Mrs. Stark took the hint.

"So I brought her down here so I could tell you I have taken out the cameras and we are breaking you out." Aswan announced.

Mrs. Stimson looked as surprised as Paggaz felt. Mrs. Stark smashed a button and opened the door. Paggaz quickly scrambled grabbing all of his things and jumping out the door.

"I thought it would probably be wise to get you out first. Gabby can she sleep in your QWERTY seeing as the rest of the team is guys?" Aswan asked cautiously.

"Of course but I really do wish you would of told me earlier Aswan." Paggaz scowled.

Mrs. Stark apologized and slipped out of the room to tell the guards that Ms. Gibson wanted them. She smiled. Only he could do that. Gabby and he crept out of the metal room and booked it to her room. Thankfully there were two beds. From the day that the humans are vied on this planet. As the human race had begun to step, blinkingly stepping into the sun. There is more to see than ever can be seen. There is more to do than ever can be done. It is a circle of life... Sorry, that part is from the lion king but the point still stands. Just understand things in a different outlet.

"What do you both think that you are doing?!" Shouted Paggaz whilst swaggering up and down the long stretched corridor. "Times have changed since my time... Rescue missions were so much simpler and auctioned packed. Kicking doors in, climbing through ventilation shafts, booting seven types of crap out of armed bastards and be backing home in time for a cup of tea."

"Yeah, so. Time has changed then get over it, Prick." Charles laughed at Paggaz.

"Don't get clever. It doesn't suit you, Charley boy. Alright you old chest nut!" frowned Paggaz.

"So then go back you came from then. You. Girlie, fairy, Scottish, Manchester supporting, Nazi, Soft dick, disabled duos bag poof bastard!" spat Gabby whilst giving the third degree.

"I think that you missed to mention the Jews." smiled Paggaz.

"You make me sick when you mention that." Gabby glared at him.

"What?!" muttered Paggaz violently.

"You know what, Paggaz?" asked Charles Stimson.

Paggaz walked towards the QWERTY until there was a bright white light teleported in front of him. All covered their eyes because the light was so bright. There was a mysterious young woman inside the bright white beam of light. Hair fluttering in the gentle wind.

"Hello, Sweaty." smiled the mysterious woman who walked towards them.

"Roger knobson, is that you?" stuttered Paggaz in shock.

"You know it is, Sugar!" she laughed.

The crystalized moon gleamed fitfully through the long bone fingers of purple cloud that scudded across its face sending sparkling highlights flickering over the foamed overgrown autumn shrubbery down below. Cloudy mists drifted through the valley. Winds blew strongly as a million pipes had played the air. A distend sound of waves clashing violently against rough cliff faces. An erythematic hiss of a mixture of tones in violent seas. Pitch folded lightning boom across the night skies sending gulls scattering across the skies. Gulls had been scratching. Blurry-eyed, Paggaz slammed down the empty pint glass. Leaning heavily over the bar, all hunched, he belched before making his uncertain voyage towards the swinging doors of the pub. Key knocked against tables, jolted other drinkers, falling and meandering on his way like a ship skirting the outreaches. Laughter and abuse rang in his ears in roughly equal measures.

Then Paggaz was outside, swallowing in the chill night air. It tasted of damp and frost. The sounds of the pub were replaced of the puzzle and puzzle of the storm. The creaking of his knees and shouting of drunks from inside. The sign above the door squealed on its hinges as it moved gently in the breeze- swaying back and forth with the same heavy motion as Paggaz as he swayed on his feet.

He stared up at it, trying to forces on the crackled, peeling image. It didn't help that the image itself was fractured- a painting of a golden crow. Someone pushed heavily against Paggaz, elbowing him aside. Paggaz staggered away, making a tuneless attempt to whistle an old sea shanty he remembered from his days as a deck swabbed on the Titanic. As he turned into a valley that ran down the side of the pub, away from the main port, Paggaz realized that he was still clutching the few pieces of silver coins for a last pint of cactus jacks. He stared up at the sky, watching the starlight, shinning like real gold. Then he closed his hand and thrust his fist into his pocket. That was when he realized the scrap piece of paper. Curiously, he had pulled it out. A folded piece of lined paper. Yellow textured in the dim light of the alley. Paggaz grunted, about to drop the paper in the narrow gutter. But he didn't. Some spark of curiosity at the back of his wild mind made him pause to open it.

And suddenly he was sober. Suddenly he was seeing clearly. Staring at the mark on the paper- a simple black shape. A smudge of ink. A vague form that meant nothing. Except to an old pirate. And Paggaz had done his sailor's job on the edge of the north east. He had seen the shape before, knew it instantly. Understood what it meant. THE BLACK SPOT. Someone had put the black spot on him. Like a curse. A threat. Sentence of death. Getting rid of it would do no good, so he slumped it back into his pocket. Already he was running. Heading back towards the light, towards crowds of people and safety. Though he knew that, really, nowhere was safe. Already he could hear the thumping of heavy feet on the cobbles behind him. He could imagine the glint of sharp fangs in the starlight. He could feel the hot breath of the killer on the back of his neck.

Paggaz's hearts jumped. His eyes watered, blurring everything. His breath rasped. He tried to tell himself it was all his imagination there was no one there. The alley was empty. The paper- it was a joke or a mistake. Or a smudge of ink on a recent receipt from the pub... Except it was not a mistake. Suddenly it was real. A dark shape was materializing out of thin air in front of Paggaz. A huge, shabby creature walked towards him. As if the night has somehow coalesced into a massive version of the bottled shape on the parchment. Paggaz stumbled to a halt, turned, started to run the other way. Felt the heavy hand on his left shoulder as it dragged him back, turned again. Only it was not a hand. It was in fact a claw like a paw, covered in grey hair with long fingers that seemed to end with razor sharp nails. Eyes burning green out of the blackness high above Paggaz. Hot, rancid breath scalded the cold air and make Paggaz cough. And a high pitched rough voice that seemed to say:-

"Look I am very sorry about this..."

Claws glinted like knifes as they caught the moon light.

"Really, really sorry. No, I mean it."

Starring down at Paggaz's screaming face.

"But, well, you know how it is."

Paggaz knew nothing apart from blackness. He fell backwards onto a metallic red post box. His eyes widen like piss holes in the snow, looking into the creature's green eyes and thought to recognized the voice.

"Eh, eh... Mm. Don't get me mistaken but is that you, Kashwsan Stark?"

A long pause of silence.

"Is it?" Paggaz asked yet again.

"Oh shite. It's you, Paggaz. I didn't recognize you from behind and in the dark." grunted Kasha.

Paggaz stood still in shock whilst wiping away the tears from his eyes. He pulled the QWERTY key out of his left pocket, inserting the key in door of the post box and yanking the door outwards. Kasha looked confused and remembrance.

"What is this?" She asked.

"It's called the qwerty. Quantize wave length electronic radio-active time yard line. It is bigger inside than the outside. It travels throughout the whole time and space."

Suddenly they heard a rush of footsteps towards them. Becoming closer and closer. Louder and louder. Then it stopped at a standstill. Male and female figures. Two. Both including Kasha wondered into the QWERTY. Paggaz spun around.

"What are you two doing here?!" Shouted Paggaz.

"PAGGAZ! Where the fuck has you been all our lives. We knew it was you." smiled Charles.

"Oh. I cannot out with Charles and Gabby, can't I? No." laughed Paggaz.

"Piss off. You total puff. We need to bugger off way. Now would be nice!" shouted Gabby.

"What's the problem?"

"There is a photo bastard coming after us with a fucking chainsaw."

"Right then that is our queue to fuck off then." Paggaz smiled whilst rushing around the console and pulling, pressing and whacking buttons.

Mixture of colored lights flashed in all directions. Sounds blasting out from all directions. All sound mixing and bouncing off each other. The QWERTY jolted and quacked that shuddered then Kasha face planted herself to the floor. Then all the sudden it was silent and still. Charles looked confused like if there was something really pissing him off. Gabby grabbed his hand and yanked him to his feet. Kasha crawled up and pulled herself up. There was a sudden glimmer of light that sparkled like a disco ball.

Paggaz stood, looked at the scanner of the console and reading the scribbles. Kasha walked towards the doors. Charles and gabby fallowed right behind Kasha. Paggaz looked up and rushed quickly out of the QWERTY doors. Smile on his face. The others swaggered right behind him. QWERTY doors automatically shut right behind them. All gazed all around them. Amazed.

"We moved... we just fucking moved. How did we do that?" asked Charles.

"Wobbly Woodley timey Wimpey spacey wacky. Disappear there and reappeared here." stuttered Paggaz.

"You're joshing us aren't you?" frowned gabby.

'' No I am not''

'' Prove it then, bitch.''

''It will be proven. later.'' yelped Paggaz.

He never raised his voice. That is the worst thing: The fury of Paggaz. And we discovered why, why this Paggaz who fights with gods and daemons, why he had run away from us and hidden, he was being kind... Paggaz wouldn't say that, the way that he sees it, that every single life has a pile of good things and bad things, but vice-versa; the bad things don't always necessarily spoil the good and make them unimportant.

'' Are you all sure you want to do this? 'cause if you do then I should warn you, you're going to see all things wonderful. Ghosts from the past, aliens from the future; the day that the Earth died in a ball of flames; it would not be quiet; it would not be safe, and it wouldn't be calm. But I will tell you all one thing: it is going to be a trip of a life time.'' Paggaz wondered off towards the deserted streets.

'' Can we go to your planet?'' asked Charles.

''My home planet? That old planet... the sky's a brilliant pink, with a citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the triplet suns. Beyond that the golden mountains would go on forever, slopes of light purple grass, capped with snow. And bone like trees topped with silver leaves that catches the sunlight that seems to set the whole Forrest afire.'' frowned Paggaz.

'' Yeah...yeah. It sounds wonderful.'' smiled gabby.

''And it was until the war came. Our species got ourselves suddenly involved with this war between two other species. The time lords and the darkles. The last ever great time war. I am a Timekeeper. The last Timekeeper. My world burnt like nothing that you've ever seen. We have fought and we lost.''

''What happened to your people?'' asked Gabby Stimson.

''I'm still here, aren't I? No worry.'' smiled Paggaz.

'' We make our days longer but we can make them better.''

The light from a street lamp was fading, creating new shadows and dark paths around them. Eyes glimmered form hallowed trees. The wind howled between distorted trunks, carrying sickly stink of wood rot. They moved faster, ignoring the branches that caught the moonlight, the damp leaves that grimed their skin. They lifted their faces, letting the light and shadows danced across their faces. Bees hummed in and out of the penny royal. Paggaz inhaled its mighty smell and continued on, delighting in sound of their feet sliding through the autumn leaves. Smell of damp smog drifted across the valley. Sweet music of twittering birds on trees. Sea gulls scattered across the skies. The valley is so silent that you can even hear a pin drop. There is something quiet not right. They seem to have gotten on the wrong foot.

Life isn't that simple. There is no shred of evidence that life can be that serious. Life is foreign language; all creatures mispounce it. The purpose of life is to fight maturity. Life is something that everyone should try only once. That night. The full moon gleamed horribly through the massive grey cloud that loomed across its face, sending ruby rain drops flickering over the foaming over grown stacks of weeds on the streets. The storm that had whipped the trees into such frenzy was far away now, the green lightning a faint glow occasionally illuminating the sky. The winds moaned as a million pipes had played the air. Charles, gabby and Kasha was sitting in a nearby bus shelter. Smoking cigarettes and disguising cocktails. Paggaz swaggered towards them, spinning around with his cosmic shaver and buzzing it at all directions. They starred...

"What are you doing?" laughed Gabby.

"Oil! Soppy knickers piss off!" replied Paggaz in a low tone whilst concentrating.

"She is only asking yam!" Shouted Charles.

"Sharing is caring." smiled Kasha.

Kasha stood then grabbed a bottle of vodka from her inner pocket of her jacket. Swigging half the bottle. But... She fell backwards into a nearby pond. Pulling her out of the pond by Charles. Dripping wet. Dredged from top to toe. Her face can say it all. Gabby swigs her coat around Kasha whilst trying not to laugh at the matter.

"Dorsey bitch!"Laughed Charles.

Some people left Paggaz. People stay behind. Some people and not a lot had died. And that breaks his hearts. Together or not at all. There is definitely one thing that you may need to know. Paggaz is definitely a mad man with bonkers ideas. Living long and prosper. There is one thing that you will never ever put in a trap if you're extremely clever, if you value your continued existence, if you may have any plans about seeing tomorrow- there is one thing that you will never put in a trap... Paggaz! Paggaz is like fire and ice and rage! He is like the knight and the storm in the heart of intercity. He is the ancient and forever. He burns at the Centre of time and can see the turn of the universe. And...He is absolutely fantastic! When you run with Paggaz, it is like it will never end. But however hard you try you cannot run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies and no one knows it better than Paggaz. Although I do think that all the skies of the entire world will turn black if he ever for one second, accepts death for an answer. Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. Not today. Some days, no body dies at all.

He does not give second chance. He is not that sort of man. Two by two that Saturday the little fuckers stepped with decorations of sounds and flowers in bungees. To the valley's waiting compounds; taking their place amongst all. The ancient buildings in this waste land, those grateful years that will stick out for centuries, like thronging out time at the pub; there being, always. But in some other in certain moonlight of a showery night. Such things may rise like some foreign country's army, shuddering the elements whilst being greedy to seize their own power and screaming in terror. Can you depart Paggaz to his companions, dismiss them, and divide them? And with horrible snarls that stay on their faces until the day they die. In a bright pink beam of light that shot in front of them. It was ... actually it was infecting... Roger Knutson. Hair flittering in the cool breeze.

"WA-hay, Sexy!" smiled Roger suddenly.

All gobs smacked. Paggaz held up his quantize shaver to scan if Roger was a threat. No. She was not a threat. Not yet. For now. He wonders if he remembers her from somewhere.

"Do I know you from somewhere... arm...mum...who are you?"

"Spoilers, Love." laughed Roger.''How do you do, Charles and gab?''

''What?'' shouted gabby? 'How do you know us two?''

People normally think that the whole time things is a extreme strict progression of cause to effect, but actually from a complete non-linear, non-subjective view point-it is more like a bouncy ball gabble gobble...timey Wimpey ball of stuff.

Sorry, I've got this complex life. Things sometimes don't basically happen to me in the correct way and order. Especially at weddings. Especially my own. I am rubbish at weddings. Amazing race, the weeping angels. The only manic psychopaths in the bleeding universe to kill you nicely. No shit, no bother, they just blast you back into the past and let you live to death. The rest of your life used up and fucked away in a wink of an eye. You die in the past, and in the present they consume the life-force of all the days that you might have had, all your stolen moments. They are basically the creatures of the dark times.

The lost assassins that are what they are called. No one quite knows where they ever came from, but they are old as the universe or near enough. And they have survived this land because they do have the perfect defense system ever evolved. They are quantizing locked. They don't exist when they get observed. The moment they ever been seen by any creature then they will freeze into rock. They have no choice; it is basic fact in their DNA. In the sight of any creature, they basically turn into stone. And you cannot kill stone. Of course stone kill you either, but if you turn your back. Then you blink. Then, oh yes it can.

That is why cover their eyes. They are not crying. They cannot risk looking at each other. Their greatest asset is their greatest curse. They can never be seen. The looniest creatures in the whole universe. Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and then you are dead. They are fast. They are faster than you ever can be expecting. Don't turn your back, don't look back and don't blink.

(After Paggaz gets off the phone to Roger, clearly embarrassed to tell her that he loves her)

Paggaz: (blushing) Whoa, whoa what have I done now?

Charles :( Hugs Paggaz) Paggaz, why don't you tell that nice girl that you love her? Tell her that you love her with all your heart, if you don't see her soon, then, you is going to die.

Paggaz: (stutters) what's this...?

Charles: (Shouts) if you don't tell her you love her. Then you will be slipping with the fishes!

Paggaz :( swept his ginger fringe aside) that reminds me. Have we got fish fingers and custard for tea?

Kasha: Yeah, yeah I am fucking hungry. Let's get some fucking fish fingers in chocolate custard!

(Licking her lips as she was starving)

And SOME RUSSIAN VODKA!

All :( cheered) Agreed!

Kasha: (growled like an old fashioned pirate) You-ho-ho blow me down! Watch out lads. A pirate's life for me!

All: (Cheered) all for one and one for all.

They swaggered towards some western pub. Entered some internal and external swinging doors. There was hardly anyone in this tavern. It was a dusty atmosphere, gas lamps flickering in the gentle breeze and there was a shifty looking character in the left hand corner of the tavern. Gabby starred back, deeply and angry. The drinker looks back down to his half empty pint glass. The group sat down at the opposite table across the room. Charles raised his arm to signal to a waiter. Some pompous quire waiter waltzed towards them with pad and pen.

"WA-hay partner! What do you want to order?" the waiter asked.

"We need three bottles of 2 liters of cactus jacks, cherry flavor. Also five portions of fish fingers in custard, please."

"Thank you dear sir." the waiter said whilst walking away.

The crimson sun rose up gently in a near cloudless pink sky. It shone a bright white light that covered the vast waste lands in the west end of Newcastle. It was a new dawn of a new day. Smell of damp smog drifting across the valley. Sweet music of twittering birds. The sun gleamed fitfully through the long luminous fingers of white cloud that scudded across its face, sending sparkling highlights flickering over the wooden huts down below. They sat silently in the long stretched street, gulping down some more alcoholic drinks from glass bottles. Kasha checked her digital watch. Then noticed it was 09:35 am.

Eyes widen. Slowly pulling her up but still worse than aware. Staggering towards the QWERTY. Which was on the street corner? Staring forward, still wearing a long leather jacket that dangle in the gentle breeze when she was marching and she was still swigging from the bottle. Then she saw. There were four. The gang. Waiting at the QWERTY doors. Then looked up with an average hangover.

"Alright?!"

"Yeah. Are you all?"

"Yeah we are alright. We are just waiting for you."

Paggaz swaggered into the QWERTY. Well, he fell in backwards into the QWERTY and he thumped his head upon the floor.

"Honey, are you still pissed from last night?" Roger Knutson laughed.

"Yeah, that is why it is called a hangover." giggled Paggaz.

A good man has too many rules? A good man does not need rules. Think about why Paggaz has so many rules. In a couple of life times. There are moments like this where people just sit down whilst there is nothing to do. Some lads these days. Their minds are so simple. Paggaz was just waltzing up the desert with roger and Kashwsan and gabby whilst these dirty minded lads where shouting across the street. The dirty minded bastards.

"PAGGAZ, are you fucking them lasses!" the dirty lads shouted.

"No! We are just mates!" yelled Paggaz.

Paggaz walked quickly across the road. He wondered why people think or assume that he is only hanging around with female companions to play the bleeding sausage. Dirty bastard. That is not the reason why hangs with people for. Paggaz does still wonder of many things from the past to the future. He still wondered on a topic that was mentioned by a companion of his. He thought on what it is meant when Roger said:-

"I LOVE YOU!"

What does it mean? Paggaz does not know what but he thinks that he is getting mixed signals from all the people that he had or has met. It was similar from earlier that that day in college when they decided to play hides and seeks. Bit weird but good weird. Paggaz and companions came out of hiding under the stair. Mr. Banning saw them coming out. Mr. Banning widen his eyes and his thoughts became dirty. He looked as Paggaz walked down the long corridor with his companion and the froze a for while... Mr. Banning was going to mention and then he said;

"What have you three been doing?"

"Why, do you want to join in, sir? "Laughed Paggaz.

The two companions had laughed whilst rushing down the corridor. Mr. Banning joined in with the laughter.

"I haven't got the energy these days!" said Mr. Banning.

Paggaz's two hearts does break in silence. Drinking up his sorrows like an old sailor. Singing the old sea shanties from the good old days. Still searching for the answers to his troubles. These are not the days of need but the days of great ambition. His dreams of this total stranger and it seem to himself that he knew that person his whole life. It may have to do with unfinished business with someone. Paggaz think it's quite alright, sitting here by the camp fire and listening to the thoughts that gave. It seems to me that my life is quite boring as such. But in a way it is different than most.

Silence has fallen in the camp that night. Winds blew gently throughout the whole valley. Day dreaming about the days that were, the days that should have been and the days that could have been. Every life has a pile of good things and pile of bad things, the good things doesn't always soften the bad but viscera the bad doesn't always spoiled the good or make them unimportant. Walk tall. Walk straight. Head held up high. Be proud. Don't let anyone drag you down. There is death waiting for me. Standing over me like a second shadow. I still lost my heart to a starship trooper. Holding hand in hand. There is nowhere to run to. Just run like crazy and regroup. That is a plan. No, it is plan in the making of another plan and as they say always have a plan b.

We meet people, and fall in love. But when we part, they leave marks for us to remember them by. Our lovers sculpt us; they define us for better or for worse. Like a ping pong ball that we slam into their direction and rebound in a different direction. Repealed by the contact and after the parting we might be so scared, but stronger. Or, more fragile or needy or angry or guilty, but it's never unchanged. Our lovers linger beside us like ghosts, haunting the corridors and deserted rooms, sometimes whispering sometimes screaming invisible but always there. Where do I belong? Where do I fit? Who are my people? Where do my loyalties lie? We all choose our tribe. It's that need to belong, to live within boundaries 'cause it is scary on the outside, on the fringes. Labels are forced on us. They mock us, set us apart until we are like ghosts, drifting through other people's lives. But only if we let the labels hold. You can piss you whole life up by trying to find out who you might be. It's when you've worked out who you are that is when you can really start to live.

It was a dreary night in autumn that Paggaz beheld the punishment of life and his troubles. It was a matter of oddness and basic misunderstanding of the universe with other basic shit. But that does not matter. A snort of disappointment from awakening Kasha. She rose from the floor. Walking towards the horizon sun. Wind blew gently passing and whistling a tuneless tune and staggering downhill. Gabby and Charles starred downhill when Kasha walked slowly. On the field of Prantalove, at the fall of Paggaz, when no living creature may speak falsely or fail to give an answer, a question, a question will be answered. Silence will fall when the question is asked... I know. Silence must fall would be a better translation. The silence is determined that the question must never be answered. Paggaz must never reach Prantalove.

"I don't understand. What has it got to do with me?" asked Paggaz.

"The first question. The oldest question in the universe, hidden in plain sight... would you like to know what it is? Paggaz When?"

Roger Knutson stood still at the QWERTY, waiting for the Paggaz whilst he swaggered quickly towards her like he was proper pissed off with himself. Paggaz stopped to open to the QWERTY doors and he starred at Roger.

"Are you married, Roger?" said Paggaz seriously.

"Are you asking?" smiled Roger.

"Yes." Paggaz nodded silently whilst pulling a bottle of vodka from his pocket.

"Yes." teased Roger.

"Hang on, did you think I was asking to marry me or, or, or asking you that you are married?" Paggaz panicked.

"YES. "Smirked Roger.

"No, but was that a yes or yes?"

"Yes." giggled Roger.

"Roger Knutson? You're someone from my future, I get that. But who?"

"Spoilers, SEXY!"

"SPOILER... Spoilers? What do you mean by spoilers?"

"My past if your future. We keep on meeting but in the wrong order, my love."

Paggaz: It's a bloody Saturday!

Kashwsan: No, it's not fucking Saturday. And I've got to go to fucking work in five fucking hours because you, you little fucker in my fucking department is fucking MENTAL! Now can you bastard see why I'm SO FUCKING ANGRY?

Paggaz: Sure fucking does, yeah!

Kashwsan: What is the fucking plan then?

Paggaz: Basically.

(Quick to a dream sequence)
We take the qwerty , we drive over to Gaby's , we go in, take care of Charles - "I'm so sorry, Charles" - then we grab Gabby, we go over to Roger knobson's place, hole up, have a cup of tea and wait for this whole thing to blow over.
Kashwsan: Why do we have to go to Roger's?
Paggaz: Because we just need to do so.
Kashwsan: But she dumped you!
Paggaz: I need to know if she's all right!
Kashwsan: Why do you need to?
Paggaz: Because I love her!
Kashwsan: OMFG... but it is so fucking gays... I'm not staying there, though.
Paggaz: Why not?
Kashwsan: If we do hole up, I want to be somewhere so very noticeable to me, I want to know where the exits are, and I want to be allowed to smoke as much as I can.
Paggaz: Alright then.

[Cuts to dream sequence again]
Paggaz: We take QWERTY, go round Gaby's, go in, deal with Charles - "Sorry, Charles!" - grab Gabby, go to Roger's, pick her up, bring her back here, have a cup of tea and wait for this whole thing to blow over.
Kashwsan: Sounds perfect enough!
Paggaz: No, no, no, no, no, wait, we can't bring them back here.
Kashwsan: Why not?
Paggaz: Well, it's not really safe, is it?
Kashwan: Yeah, look at the state of it.
Paggaz: Where's safe? Where's familiar?
Kashwsan: Where can I smoke?
[Paggaz and Kashwsan pause then slowly make a realisation]

Paggaz: [cuts to dream sequence a third time] take QWERTY. Go to Gaby's. Kill Charles - "Sorry." - grab Roger, go to the Fox and Hounds, have a nice cold pint, and wait for all of this to blow over. How's that for a slice of fried gold?
Kashwsan: Yeah, Ponzieeee!
[Paggaz and Kashwsan clang their weapons together]

All things seem to be possible that we did carry on with the basic stuff in surrounding life as such. Never giving up to defeat and heading forward in all of our believe then prove that the thought is not mistaken in mind. Never surrendering to the cruel tortures of time as if it is pulling out your heart and holding it in front of your face. Also it will gut you like a fish. Time has changed over the past years ever since we had to say goodbye. It isn't that easy for certain people. It does upset people or not in such a way that it changes people for the better or for the worse. Time will tell within the future. Sitting here in total utter silence, the shadows are casted across the room by candle light, looking out to the night skies and watching the wild fire of fireworks being blasted throughout the winds. It bewilders the mind and confuses the soul. Although he does remember, remember the 5th of November where the gunpowder, treason and plot. He sees no reason why the gunpowder, treason should ever be forgotten... It's like god is playing a trick on him.

Good evening, Great Britain.

Allow me first to apologize. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby important events of the past usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful, bloody struggle are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a day that is, sadly, no longer remembered, by taking time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. Even now, orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and, for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting submission.

How did this happen? Who's to blame? Certainly there are those who are more responsible than others. And they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you. And in your panic, you turned to the houses of parliament. They promised you order, they promised you peace, and all they demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed Big Ben to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than 400 years ago, a great citizen wished to imbed the 5th of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice and freedom are more than words. They are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you then I would suggest that you allow the 5th of November passing unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek...then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight outside the gates of Parliament. And together, we shall give them a 5th of November that shall never, ever be forgotten.

I'm sorry but I don't want to be an Emperor – that's not my business – I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone if possible, Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another, human beings are like that. We all want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there is room for everyone and the earth is rich and can provide for everyone. The way of life can be free and beautiful. But we have lost the way. Greed has poisoned men's souls – has barricaded the world with hate; has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in: machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little: More than machinery we need humanity; more than cleverness we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people. To those who can hear me I say "Do not despair". The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress: the hate of men will pass and dictators die and the power they took from the people, will return to the people and so long as men die [now] liberty will never perish…

Soldiers – don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you and enslave you – who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel, who drill you, diet you, and treat you as cattle, as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts. You are not machines. You are not cattle. You are men. You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate – only the unloved hate. Only the unloved and the unnatural. Soldiers – don't fight for slavery, fight for liberty. In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written" the kingdom of God is within man" neither one man, nor a group of men – but in all men – in you, the people. You the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.

Then in the name of democracy let's use that power – let us all unite. Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work that will give you the future and old age and security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie. They do not fulfil their promise, they never will. Dictators free themselves but they enslave the people. Now let us fight to fulfil that promise. Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness. Soldiers – in the name of democracy, let us all unite!

Charles: What the hell are you, Paggaz!?

Paggaz: Do you know, when we were saying earlier, about the Earth revolving? It's like when you were a little nipper, the first ever time they tell you that the world's turning and you just cannot quite believe it because everything looks like it's standing still. I can feel it. The churn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, the entire planet is hurtling around the sun at seventy-seven thousand miles an hour, and I can feel it. We're falling through space, all of us, whilst clinging to the skin of this tiny little world, and if we let go... that's what the hell I am. Now forget me, Charles Stimson. Go home.

Time and time and time again as we all sit whilst observing this wondrous little word of mistitled creatures that indult upon a life-force that we all give a positive attitude in an environment of us all. It is not quite possible to think about the wondrous world that we do live in. It was dark and I was sober until you kissed my lips and standing into your arms whilst not falling to my knees. You and me together whilst nothing else can get better. It burns when I cry and calling out your name.

I don't know how we could go through this. As I see it that life has a pile of good things and a pile of bad things. The good things don't always soften the bad but viscera the bad doesn't always spoil the good or make them unimportant. Nothing can destroy us apart from death itself. The never ending pain and suffering. To live on or not? That is the question. It isn't that noble to suffuse the pain and scorns of time. Death. That is the undiscovered land where no traveler returns. Sleep is for the dead and rest is for the weary. Sleep perchance to dream. To dream perchance for sleep.

The wide spread playgrounds of this wonderful world were swarming with all types of creatures wide and small. All were shouting and the effects urged them on with strong tearful cries. The afternoon's air was dull and grey and after a very blustery weekend but it wasn't the revolution as such with the weather. It was the revolution of rude behavior from the public, the so-called greatest Cistercians of reality although it was depression of such greed. The fire burns deep within our souls. Within the burning heart in the darkening times. A great fire, built up to a height and friary red, flamed in the great and underneath the autumn branched trees. They came a little late. Charles humpty sat down upon an oak log beside the camp fire whilst Gabby sat beside him and spat horizontally towards the floor.

Wind blew behind them. Kasha swayed back and forth with the wind blowing against her, sipping down a fresh hot coffee and watching the flames of the camp fire. Gabby was twittering her thumbs together, annoyed and angry, things stood silently between them all and it was about time for someone to break the silence... All of the sudden Paggaz waltzed towards them all with a few drinks that would suit them perfectly and also the drinks would get them all talking together. Paggaz was sick of this fucking silence. Glass bottles clanking together when he waltzed towards a wooden stool. He looked a bit pale, wind gently blowing against his ghostly face, his long ginger hair was swaying all directions and he sorted all the bottles in a near perfect line.

"WA-hay, all you cheeky bitches. What's going on with you all? Come on talk to each another. We don't get nowhere without talking to each another. Can't we?" smiled Paggaz whilst unscrewing the cap of one of the bottles.

"What's wrong?! I tell you what the matter is, you told us that you will take us upon an action packed adventure and just look where we are. Where are we? We are in the fucking woods and when we need the toilet, we have to have a fucking shit in a hole in the ground. Who do you think we are? Animals? Cheeky bastard!" shouted Gabby when she was grabbing a bottle from him.

"Well, it is better than nothing as I suppose. It isn't my fault that the QWERTY was sent off course within time and space. I have to use the manual more Afton than normal before I threw into a supernova." smiled Paggaz.

"A supernova? You threw the manual into a supernova!?" asked Kashwsan who landed against an oak tree.

"Yeah, a supernova because I disagree with it. Annuals wreck the fun for me." said Paggaz who was munching on a chunk of cheese.

"Where the fuck did you get the cheese from?" laughed Charles.

"The cheese is from 17th century France. It's delicious but not quite that good with cherry flavored Cactus Jacks... But still its canny good mixture." giggled Paggaz like a crazed clown.

Charles Stimson crashed as he disliked clowns ever since his encounter with them at the age of seven years old. He covered his ears. Teeth clenched together. Nose wiggled side to side. That encouraged Paggaz to laugh even louder. Paggaz rolled violently on the dusty ground with all the sweet rapper like autumn leafs. Behaving like a child. Just kicking the floor and laughing to him. Gabby, Kasha and Charles starred at him.

"Are you on any type of medication then Paggaz because we think you are?! Laughing like that." smirked Kasha.

"Are you Okay?" asked Gabby.

Paggaz smiled, stood up like nothing was happening and steered to them all. Trying to put on a serious face. Still smirking a little bit to him. Slapping him to make him serious. Nothing is working. Licking his lips as he was starving. Nodding to him. Agreeing to something. The others are confused about Paggaz. Seriously? Was he being serious about this?

"I'm hungry. Can I have some more CHEESE?! I love cheese. I maybe have a craving. That is strange. Never had cravings before. That is new. I am a bloke. Not a woman. I am pregnant? Or am I? I was a woman a few regenerations ago. That was exciting time for me and other people also. As they said caring is sharing." muttered Paggaz, checking if he had breasts. 'No, no, no, no. It can't be happening. I am a proper Northern Giza now! If you know what I mean''

''That is definitely a spoiler for you all!" Roger Knutson said, emerging out of the dark shadows and Paggaz looked up towards her.

"Oh no! It's her again. I'm in deep shit this time." Paggaz said under his breath.

"The party doesn't start until I walk in. ''

Paggaz was stripping his clothes off. Getting ready to change his clothes. All companions stared at Paggaz's bare behind. Charles was disguised at what he was looking at. Charles' face frowned in horror. His jaw dropped silently. He began to speak out loud.

"You're drunk. You're drunk and now you are taking your clothes off. Guys, he's taking his clothes off." Charles stuttered in horror.

"Turn your back if it embarrasses you. Most people already seen my body or past bodies before." laughed Paggaz all smuggled and clever. "There is no need."

"No need. No freaking need! Oh, come on, who the hell wears red silk boxer shorts?" asked or intact shouted Charles.

"I do. Silk is cool. Also silk is very comfortable. You should wear silk more often. It'll make you feel better." Paggaz blurred out whilst buttoning up his pink shirt, yanking his braces up on his shoulders and tying up his silk bowtie. "I'm happier already. And that is interesting. What's that?"

"What is what? I think it's the cold and the dark." yawned Kasha stretching her arms.

The government is planning something. Secrets are being withheld away from us. It is all hiding away from us in the darkened shadows. The kingdom is slowly toppling, getting destroyed by the government and they do deny it. Does it matter? Yes it does matter to us all. According to legends and myths that are hidden in the shadows. Every awakening second of every hour of every long day and I hope that I have the strength to make the correct choice. A choice for the people and for my people.

There must be another way. There must be something that we can do. The forbidden, long and never ending legend and myth of this utter mad. If Paggaz is that old and kind then he could not stand aside to let children cry. He is not like that. It is amazing. Don't you think? All the days that he had been around. Do you, any one of you ever know who, what, where, how, when, he is? Well, no one knows the answers. The impossible thing. A Goblin. A Trickster. An unbearable creature dipped in the blood of the innocent.

The long enduring heart ache of the pain and sorrow in this tearing lived life. Basic dreams must end, what lies in the tiring deep and there is a beast below that must feast on the weary souls of the dead. Death is an undiscovered land that no man returns on his travels. Paggaz would like to see them try. We stand at a standstill. Backs to the wall. Facing head on and starring into the eyes of their enemies. Never surrendering. Never giving up. Paggaz's end infractions is unknown. The total utter mysterious creature that walks through time and space whilst fighting gods and daemons but he keeps on running away. Away from something but what? There are duties that he had performed throughout the universe. Never ending. Never stopping.

Paggaz: (Drunk, dancing, singing "I could have danced all night I could spread my wings")

Have you ever met the fucking French? My bleeding God they know how to party! Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vex popular, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. (He urinated "P" into the snow pile nearby)

The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.

(Giggles like a child)

Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honour to meet you and you may call me Paggaz. People call me Paggaz and I don't know why. I even call myself Paggaz. Still don't know why.

Gabby: Oh, just look what the cat dragged in, the oncoming storm. Are you like a sort of a crazy ginger person?

Paggaz: I'm quite sure they all will say so across the whole known universe. OH, you sound just like your mother.

Gabby: What have you been doing, where've you been?

Paggaz: Well, among other things, I *think* I just invented vodka and coke a couple of centuries early. Do you know the French never seen a sausage roll before? Always take sausage rolls to a party, Gabby Stimson, sausage rolls are just brilliant.
(To a nearby an oak tree)
Oh, fantastic, it's really you! You're my absolute favourite, you are, you are the best, you know why? Oh my fucking god. For reasons why because you're so stupid! You're Mr Stupid, Stupid Stupidity Stupid-face from Stupid-town, Stupidania. And so is you're MOTHER! Prick!

It came to the thought that all things are quite possible if and if you put your mind to the subject that is given to the suspicious minds of all types of creatures. Creatures of this meaningful village within a town within a united kingdom of Great Britain. Maybe Paggaz don't understand things quite as much but things can and will get a lot weirder ever since it all started. Weird things are only the start of it. Total strangeness of a total utter mad man trying to survive this cruel world. Paggaz sat in the camp. By the word ''camp'', I do not mean the gay camp but the camp meaning camping. Sitting near the flickering flames of the camp fire, on an old oak log, a gentle breeze did blow that night and everything seemed to stand at a still. Freedom is the biggest lie and if you accept that then you have a heart. You may take my life but you cannot take my freedom. The Almighty say that you can get me out of this but he is pretty sure that you are fucked. Making the foundations of this world a man who never would. I see no evil then I will not hear any evil. It is the secret. The biggest darkest secret in the known universe. I think that you already know.

Paggaz stood at the QWERTY console, still holding Roger's shoe, with Charles and Gabby looking on. Suddenly, Paggaz stood very erect, putting Roger's shoe down carefully and reached for a particular switch, and slammed it down hard. Roger Knobson had almost reached the QWERTY when its door closed in her face. She took the key from round her neck and tried to open it. Nothing happened.

"Paggaz!" she screamed. "Answer then you fucking CUNT!"

Suddenly she heard Paggaz's voice. ''Roger, please listen. I've safety-locked the door—you can't get in. I know you will be thronging a bitch fit by now but it'll not work. I'm sorry about this darling...But you know on how it is. Until the next time, my love.''

Inside the QWERTY the Paggaz could see Roger's puzzled face looking towards him on the scanner. Gently he said, "During all the years I've been looking for someone like you, you in return have been waiting in my future for me. You are still my fiancé and always will be. But now you're a woman too. I want you to belong somewhere, to have roots of your own. With Kashwsan you will be able to find those roots and live normally like any woman should do. Believe me my dear, our future or past lines will cross somehow, not with a silly old buffer like me just yet. One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, and no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine. Goodbye, Roger Knobson. Goodbye my dear."

And without hesitating, Paggaz pulled the dematerialisation lever, sending the QWERTY off into the Time Vortex, leaving his beloved future behind. Somehow regretting bits and piece of what he was doing but also he was running from what he didn't know about. Will Paggaz come back? There is a small four bed roomed apartment in a middle of a street. It was a nice street of all sorts as we thought. It was the summer, a cool breeze through the valley and it was silent in the neighborhood. The house was empty apart from the cousin of the family and she was only sixteen year of age and she had the dog which was down in the kitchen. That makes her sixteen years older than me. It is an early October afternoon, about five o'clock-is, gentle breeze through the slightly angled windows, tick tuck of the clocks upon every wall and the sound of talking or chanting up on the top floor the house in one of the bedrooms. It may be a radio playing 'smooth radio' a channel, a young female adult was singing to a song. The sun was setting down on the far west, the pigeons scattering to all directions in the sky, the atmosphere was like a piece of domed glass with the touch of sun-set and the clouds were like crimson wisps of candy floss.

Sound of footsteps upon the cold stone grids of the drive walk way, smell of flammable liquid that was splashing around inside the luminous green container. A shadow of a young adult male's figure which was bouncing down the walk-way, the male was unscrewing the container's lid, sound of match sticks rattling inside their air tight box, the bloke was getting ready to throw the petrol into the letter box of front door and into the opened down stair's windows. The sound of a match sticks striking against the rough sand paper at the left-side of the box to be thrown upon the petrol fluid. The hellhole blaze started with a glimmer, intensifying and increasing to get higher and higher. The sound of wooden floor boards starting to crackle, glass shattering, and the dog in the kitchen was barking like it was in distress and the fire was raised to the top of the floor's corridor.

The smell of smolder, resonance of the fire alarms was blaring and suddenly the great fire was streaming into the bedroom with the woman giving out a frightening blood curdling scream at the top her voice. The sound of firemen sirens were rushing quickly into the local avenue, rushing footsteps and rattling of metal ladders clattering like mad, and getting ready to be set up to the window. The smells of burning flesh like a cooking of a spit roast and the screaming was continuing. The fireman was rushing up the ladders, getting ready to pull her out the burning flames and her skin was all burnt to a crisp. But she was still alive, eyes alternating, the only words that came out of her mouth was "help me please."

They rushed the woman into the large white ambulance, rushing, speeding to RVI hospital and it was night now. The moon gleamed fitfully through the long purple fingers of cloud that scudded across its face, sending sparkling highlights flickering over the foaming trees. The storm that whipped the trees into such a frenzy was far away now, the lightning a faint glow occasionally illuminating the sky. The wind moaned as a million pipes played the air. The blustery weather blew against the hospital windows. The young woman was rushed into one of the operation room on the west wing, screaming on the wheeled bed in pain and tick tuck goes the clocks yet again with the few hours has passed since she had been pulled in. Family and friends that were sitting in the waiting room, waiting for any improvements and it seemed a long time. Tick, tick, tick tuck goes the clock that toils amongst the time. Silence will fall when the question is asked. Tick, tick, tick, tick goes the clock and the heavy tapping of finger nails against the pined wooden table. We have drunk the coffee that we have gotten from the machine. There was an unexpected stillness of silence dead at 01:17 am in the following morning. She was dead.

We all knew death was the punch line but we did not know when it was with her. Not this early in her lifetime. Silence fell when the question was asked but never answered. But we knew by the doctor's blank canvassed face. It was true. Silence did fall. Tick tuck goes the clock as the song goes but the clock is not ticking. A sudden shudder chill went down everybody's spine. Her name is the last thing I ever heard. Her breath is the last thing I felt. Praise her. Praise her. Praise her. Mercy the pity dead of the living which was gone but not forgotten the terror of it all. The dead do speak sometimes to the living. It sure makes us all think. Food for thought was the local saying to the people. Makes you think about when is your turn to pass on the other side. Sorry for the loss. Our time will come. The memories of the good and the bad times we all had together. It is family stuff. The day was the second day of October and it was her birthday. We are all silent witnesses of this day. Life without! She is at peace now and there is an empty hole in our souls. As we learn about each other, so we learn about ourselves. Dreams are important... never underestimate them. You can't rule the world in hiding. You've got to come out on the balcony sometimes and wave a tentacle. Whirling around, you see nothing but the empty hallway and the faces in the portraits staring at you. Twist reverses they look to say, but you swallow a nervous whimper and continue into the dark bowels of the house...

You enter a foggy area in the center of the house. Shadows seem to swirl around your feet, sucking you in. In a burst of panic, you shuffle for a light button. You flip it up and down frantically, but the room remains immersed in darkness. Fear settles in and deep down you know you're not alone in the dark. Something brushes your back. You turn, but there is nothing. Nothing you can see, that is. Outside you can listen to the autumn blustery whether howling, and it almost sounds like laughter to your panicked mind. A low chuckle breaks your thought process, directly in front of you. You scream, but hear nothing in the overwhelming blackness. You're being drawn in, drowned in slumbering evil, there is no escape... The feeling of peer dark eyes starring right behind you, you panic in certain tremble of fear that you believed that you cannot escape this deadly gallon and the sound of a heavy heart beat against your rib cage. You start to scream but no sound was coming out of your mouth. The facial expressions on your face began to be muddled by misunderstood. Dark shadows lurking in the still air, along with a faint smell of death hanging in the chilling darkness of the night. Whispers of long-dead children echoed with the sound of track that was coming from nowhere.

For the record when you leave now then you will take a piece of me. People stop and starring can't see them apart from the shadows of their eyes. Only the echoes of my mind, it's unreal to think that Paggaz is now alone in the meantime and he is standing in the hall of fame whilst the whole world will know his name. Some random kids all over time and space knows the Paggaz by different types of stories, he does not know on what type of stories are being told or said and he had a bad dream about being left by Roger with everyone else. Roger, she seemed that she did not Paggaz anymore. the people of this world is not what you first expected , some of these people are like weird type of creatures like beasts and it seems to Paggaz that he dislikes this city even more. They are not people are bewitched and bewildered with themselves. It is a little bit funny, this feeling inside and it is not simple to put in words. The seasons have gone by and you can go to tell everyone... Webby wobbly timey wimpy. I cannot give away too much, one wrong word in the wrong moment of time and there is no knowing what will happen. Not every day but any other day of the week is fine. There are moments in history and everything must happen as they should but sometimes there some bizarre things that just happen and then we just call them a miracle.

The treasure which the captain deduced would be found in the hold of the galleon, in his eyes, far outstripped any potential dangers the Goblin's Rage of frigate might face in opposing such as maneuverable and well-armed ship. In private discussions, the first lieutenant had disagreed with these asthmatics, considering the risks too dear a price to pay, whatever the outcomes. A man of duty to the bone, however, he wouldn't dream of voicing these concerns while on deck and in ear shot of the crew.

"Well?" the captain demanded, and edge in the word.

The first lieutenant was startled from a brief reverie, but the image of men made red ruin by grape shot lingering as he turned to address the captain. It seemed that after his final pronounced on the suitability of the galleon. The captain had expected some responses. The first lieutenant's silence had been taken as tacit criticism.

"Geyser," the first lieutenant hastened to say, nodding reluctantly. "As you say and wish."

He watched as the captain grinned, revealing the chipped tooth that marred the left forefront tooth in his smile. He watched as the captain smiled, revealing the strong stench of whisky and Navy rum with a hint of garlic from that kebab he had an hour ago. The long wooden boat, sail lowered, gliding the marshy shoals at the inlet from the mist-shrouded sea. Standing at the boat's prow, a cloaked figure guided the boatmen between the rocks, towards the strand, as if knowing the place by the heart. The captain was sitting around on the deck drinking a jug of ale. The old woman who was the captain's grandmother was starring right back at him with the drum-weary, heat-darkened face and deep worry lines creased her forehead. Here eyelids droop at half-mass. Her thick tight lips neither hint at wealthier nor smile.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE, GRANMAMA DEAREST!" the captain yelled. "AND WHAT DA YA WANT?"

"What a bleeding liberty! He used all me fucking Laverty paper! What the hell was he doing in there?! Making paper flags! And as for his old woman called Coco McGhee!? Coco the bleeding clown more likes!" Grandmamma said.

"Who was it then?"

"God I hate those people."

"Was it Stewart Francis McGhee?"

"YES!Just don't see the point of it myself. I quit like the felled. He is wonderful.

"Come on, how many kids has he got?"

"He is bi-sexual now? You mean he takes it both ways. That is disturbing. Well, he had the option."

"He has nine kids!"

The winds had picked up in the interim, still blowing from the north, but with increasing in speed force as the storm has picked approached. The captain had ordered the topsails reefed by two bands, diminished the frigate's speed. The thread came on Monday afternoon, there were guns. No daggers, no swords, no near hangings involved. The utter astonishment on this day proved to be more forceful.

"Now, what did you do today, my boy?"

"I have to go now, dad! You might have been killed. What would you proved then, dad?"

"You must have found something more."

"I'm afraid that whatever happened to mamma has accompanied her uncle into the grave of water. Is this not sometimes the course of a life, Mr. Clark, for that death is to swallow a man up so wholly there are no traces left? To leave not a shadow, not even a shadow of a shadow."

"That is not at all that is left, though, Mr. Filters. Your cousin will be remembered. His works are immensely powerful.2

"This is a kind of power to them. But it is usually the power of death. Tell me, captain, do you know something more deadly than death?"

"Yeah, after took all them powerful drugs then drinking vodka and suddenly he done one by killing himself."

"It is busted now. All the wires are burnt out."

"No, I killed him myself by slashing him through the through with a cutlass! I've got a pistol in my hand to be ready be shot at someone so near. If I was them I would be running right now. Get ready to die, mate."

Then the sound of a gunshot was louder than an average gun. The captain was in the punch sanctuary of the Versailles's immaculate gardens. Not in one of these neighborhoods of tongue-cutters. Still, the captain's crew members had the sensation that each step they made was being marked. The sharp hedges and trees of the gardens revealed fragments of faces. Passing rows of statues, vases, and fountains, they came to a standstill at the god of the day, a hideous deity rising up from a splashing fountain of dolphins and sea monsters. Had this all been a tremendous mistake, a product of some delirious compulsion to be involved in something outside the captain's Saul scope and responsibility? These were the days after the fall of Attar era, king of the Romanism lands, whose sovereignty had run from Cornwall to Glasgow to Brazil to the west of the front line of world war seven, called by some American; by others, scream if you want to go faster.

But there was a huge thunder storm and mists of time that mixed all of the galaxy's history together. History is combining within itself. Soon after the sambaing festival, the harvest in, and the first frost upon the ground, the time of the cold on the darkness, had posed, and the suns gleamed bright in the air was like ice and fire. The captain and hid crew sailed the length of the solar flares, and each time they grew tired and their muscles in their shoulders and stomachs seemed to want to rest and drown, one of the crew members asked the captain for the strength and was able to continue onwards. The captain looked down into the luminous darkness of its bottom and saw yellow and green spirits of the underwater kingdom, thinking of its depths that went well below the level of our coven, and of the legend that this was from the baths of himself, broken open by the lady so as to escape the lord of the dead, who had held her prisoner.

When the ship reached the round fools that came off the solar flares, but where the ancient paintings were upon the cave wall, the captain rose up. Naked, he shook off that last of the water and sat up shivering, looked at the art upon the rough rock. Even with their unshakable faith in the cave that is going to fall inwards; even with a breathless tales the captain had heard of his father's achievements newspapers ,commissionaires, and policemen in Paris and Rome; even remembering what he had witnessed in the Parisian gardens and in the revelation of the stowaway on the steamship; even remerging that the captain Murdered himself had painted in his direction through his tales as a genius separate from all others; even with all of this, still he could not believe what happened in the damp and the cold air. That he escaped prison a few times without worry. It was a few hours later the crew ship and the captain were sailing out for the cosmos.

"It is not because of what you saw at Glencoe Eliza bra 7."

"Who or what was it?"

"Glencoe Eliza bra 7 is a section the Rwanda samba galaxy."

"Oh. No way was it."

"You have known it to be true."

"I have told you that I am not from the section of the Cosmos system.''

The crew and the captain didn't know where they were heading or were at the moment. Night fallen clean and cold that night, and the wind moaned as a million pipes played the air. Gusts shook old window panes and sounded like spirits rushing pas as they rearranged the pillows one more time, finally resting on their backs in snarls Irish linen.

But sleep wouldn't touch them and images from the day returned. They saw bodies without limbs or heads, and sat up sweating. They switched on their bedside lamps, and the salvation was suddenly around them in a warm glow of rich old wood and deep red plaids. Their eyes were lingering weirdly when they saw each other. They rushed on deck.

"What is the hurry? Who needs to worry?"

"Can I be a part of yaw crew?"

Further on, the passage walls widened apart, the ceiling growing even wider. The torches right, the now diminished party continued into the depths of the French twin of the captain and his surviving men. it was assumed, though with little conviction, that it must been one of these which attacked the Reed and the two island warriors further up the passage, and so additional care was taken to guard their rear, the loss of three men too dear to repeat. What none of the crewmen would admit, though, adventure least suspected the island warriors were right to attack again, and that were harried by a giant wasp in its approach. The passageway bent around a curve ahead and beyond a dull red light suffused through the dusty air.

"Go carefully, men. We're beyond to encounter the Martian captain.''

They had a coarse to regret the prophetic nature of his words, rounding the bend in the passage. Researching the boats without further incident, the survivors of the landing party scrambled on board and push out into the surf, all without a word passing among them. The rowers of their oars on the Jolly Roger, the three island warriors paddling their double-hulled canoe out onto the seas of space, the two craft set off, away from the island and towards their waiting ship. When they'd put a few boat lengths between them and the shore, sitting in grim-faced silence, they leaned over to the captain, a bewildered look in their eyes.

"What did you found out there, Sir?"

"What followed you out?"

Captain looked away from them to the tree other crew members who'd survived the foray, and then over at himself and the other two warriors on their space craft.

"There was nothing down there, ginger," she answered in a low voice." Reality is turning its back. Total madness"

"But sir…."

"I will be my official report to the captain, Ginger," Boston's continued, looking back at the rocky shore behind," That is on our descent into the caves. We have found the surviving Martian crewmen all dead at their own hands and the cargo irretrievably lost or destroyed. "He paused, and then suddenly added." I'm sure the reports of the others on the foray will bear this out."

Boston's caught the eyes of the captain, Mickey, Maria and Jeffery and remaining surviving Marine reed in turn and each gave a slow, silent nod. They rowed on; drawing ever neared the Goblin's rage of frigate fortitude. As they watched, the double-hulled canoe of the island warriors pulled away to the North, out of the line with the Jolly-boat, headed. Heading towards the wind

"Where are they going, sir?" one of the rowers asked, interacting with a jerk of her chin.

"Back to their homes, inspected," the captain answered, respectfully. "They've done what they consider the work of heroes, harried their culture's idea of hell and have lived to tell the tale. I expect they want nothing more than to return home, families and to their women…" He paused, a pang of regret," To their people and mourn their fallen people."

They pulled on, in their silence, the survivors and the wounded, rowing towards the waiting ships. Captain stood at the starboard rail on the quarter deck, looking at dark clouds that were gathering on the far horizon. At the sound of footsteps on the deck behind him, he turns to find Jeffery approaching, coming to relieve him as the officer was of the watch.

"You look as I feel, Hero," Jeffery said, standing alongside him at the rail.

"And how is that?" Captain spoke without a trace of humor, his expression was dark.

Jeffery touched a hand to hip side, tenderly. "How do you think?"

"Fuck off dose bag!"

"Well, I suspected that Beauregard's attentions were not wholly on his task, his thoughts no doubt concerned with his prized botanical specimens, but even without the full brunt of his tender ministrations. I think that I will survive. He assures that I there is no signs of infections," he touches his side again, but too hard this time, and winked, drawing a sharp breath that hissed through his teeth. "But yes, Hero, it still hurts like the very Dickens."

"And you can do that?"

"I can certainly try."

Lights flashed deep within the dark clouds that hulked on the horizon, followed by the faint pealing of distant thunder. A strange storm was brewing, and it looked as though it was heading their way. They whistle until their cheeks ached. Captain was crying with frustration, and the sudden east wind dried each salty drop on his cheeks. He had been doing this for an hour, and yet there was still no sign of K.9, his prime dog. He had searched high and low all over the Wick low mountains. Back down from France with the pirates. Lieutenant peter hamster RN stood at a window in Birch cottage, his house at Winterbourne in Dorset shire, his back to the room.

"II must go away, my dear."

He held up a journal bore an Admiralty seal, newly broken. His wife, Roger, gave a little sigh, and then contrived to be cheerful and to smile.

"I knew that it must come, this summons. You are commissioned again in Expedient?"

"NO." She was reading, holding up a hand with letter.

"Then you are commissioned again in Expedients in another ship? Oh, Paggaz, they have given you your own commandments?"

"No." He was reading on, shaking his head.

At last he turned holding the several unfolded sheets. "No! I am sent an errand- upon the shore."

"Ashore?" she said whilst her heart missed a beat. ''Then perhaps you will not have to go away after all."

"Oh, I must certainly go." He allowed the letter to fall on the table, and made a face." It isn't a duty I relish, though."

Roger glancing into the cradle in the corner, lifting the fold of the fabric draped above.

"I must go into the west." Continued Paggaz," to Armor crest, and bring him back. In least, I must make the attempt. I must try."

"Bring him back?" looking up from the cradle, and the infant within, which stared up at her in rapt held-comprehension. "Has someone run away there? One of your sea men has gone? Why must you go? Some of the crew is missing"

The infant, her son, recalled her to her duty in a sudden cry of complaint, of unmistakable complaint.

"I must ask Charles if he has warmed his gruel. His gruel must be warmed to an exactitude, else he will refuse it...he would not take milk from the nurse when her person was not warm."

"What is going on? "Said Paggaz, distantly, turned again to the window, Catherine had gone out of the room, and he heard her voice-in the kitchen, and the further cries of his son in the cradle. Their ancestors had been for many years' counselors and been for many years syndics; and their father had filled several public situations with honor and reputation. He was respected by all who knew him, for his integrity and indefatigable attention to the public business. He passed his younger days perpetually occupied by the affairs of his country: a variety of circumstances had prevented his marrying earlier: nor was it until the decline of life that he became a husband and the father of the family.

As the circumstances of his marriage illustrate his character, I cannot refrain from relating them. One of his most intimate friends was merchant, who, from a flourishing state, fell, through the hole of space. This man, whose name was Paggaz, was proud and unbending disposition, and could not bear to live in poverty and oblivion in the same country where he had formerly been distinguished for his rank and magnificence. Having paid his debts, therefore, in this honorable manner, he retreated with his daughter to the tower of Lucerne. The jackass starring back at him has the drum weary, heat-darkened face and the heart of a Joseph conked river native. A thin beard of a nappy curlicues worms from his chin. Deep worry lines creased his forehead. His eyelids droop at half-mast. His thick tight lips hint at neither snarl nor smile.

"Not that much," he answered, tears welling in his eyes.

"Please, mister, it is late. "Against his better judgment the operator waved people through.

The crew finished watching a medium storm of thunder and lightning above the rough sea thigh. A ghoulish wind gashed upon the ship's galleon sails strongly. Paggaz and an android were engage in a debate how such movies are unrealistic.

"Not that realistic! As if it was real there were no facts to prove it!"

"He has no soul, man. No soul!"

"Hand sir, you're wrong, we won't be apart, and we just won't be together. I * cannot* believe that I've said that."

Anyone who listens to the wind can hear many things in its sighs and whispers. In good times the sounds of joyous longing and hope can perhaps redetected or wistful memories of the past pleasures. In bad times, the sounds of anger, fury, fearfulness and remorse can seem to declare themselves too with equal force. How vile and despicable life of low morality. Peace cannot be kept by force. It only can be achieved by understanding. The world is a dangerous place not because of those who look on and do nothing. Death would be a blessing. The captain is drunk again on ale and rum. The human race just keeps on going. Things kept on changing. Life is going to be simple. There are better things to do. Dying can wait. The captain grew tired with this world, today, but people have thought himself to look at it a new.

There are legends, you know, saying the human race will go on. Well, now, that would be impossible. A great secret, so the legend says and it can wait. They shall meet again, family and people, for the last time, and the truth will be told. Until that day, the truth will be told. No one wants to die at the end. But dying that is fine. Everything is new now. There is no place especially for this crap. They say that if they suddenly wake with a shudder, a ghost has walked over your grave. Everyone had a shudder that afternoon. It was not a friendly enquiry. The captain stood in the doorway, bouncing a stout stick rhythmically against his palm of his hand. The lad facing him estimated and his eyes fixed nervously on the bounciness of the stout stick. He took a step backwards and tumbled, hampered by flamboyant travelling cloak. He grasped the cloak tightly about him against the rain with a hand the color of rosewood, long and softly elegance. No farmer's boy this one.

"Ok young boy." smeared Captain to a child who was across the way.

"WHAT?" the young teenage child starred with shear horror.

The hand that had grimly wielded the whip stroke down the boy's back tracing the curves and hallows, and gently over the bruising and the bleeding flesh. They all heard the wolf again that night. They found it quite pleasant. The captain ordered the apprentices to help us search and in the end it was one of them who came back, white and trembling, to say he had found her body dead. He delivered his memo in the uncertain tones and punctually vomited, but after a mug of ale was finally certain to lead us back to where she was. The ground looked dug over, darker than the surroundings, but it was on the far side of the trunk, hidden from the track. In a day the soil and leaves would weather to look no different from the rest. The beer slid solidly down there throat and bubbled in their nose. Then a new sound joined the thematic hiss of strong winds on a shingle, a rasping, grinding noise, rising and falling in pitch, building in volume until with a loud thump, the QWERTY appeared from nowhere on the deck of the ship, incongruous among the wind swept gorse. The hatch rattled the door swung inwards and Paggaz stepped out into the cold air, long thin coat billowing in the wind. He looked towards the closest living people on the ship apart from himself. A sound of strange noises that sound more firmly like walking in the background. They all looked around silently until a large purple figure quickly moved from the bottom left to the top right hand corner of the ship.

It was mid-morning of the awakening session. Paggaz wakes dazed and confused by the hangover that morning. It was the high spirits that he was jugging down his gullet. It was a hangover of disbelieve, dazed and confused of that he woke up whilst being handcuffed to the head board of a metal bed. Completely nothing on apart from a party hat and some blue tinted sunglasses. It was all the absolute mayhem today, weather wise I meant by the strong winds brushing throughout the whole entire village and all day, I watching them all gone now. Paggaz walked furiously throughout the mists in the street, looking despite and alone. Hands in his jackets pockets, spitting to the floor and a half burnt out Cuban cigar in his mouth. There is no expectance in the daily process of this shit day, the town seemed mostly empty and then suddenly some cunt came around the corner looking like the devil but more greener.

Exactly to the thought of it life is a pile of shit as some people normally thought. Nothing to do as but being random stuff like watching wheels of buses going around and that is how boring life is around here. Paggaz is still searching throughout this world and time to search for the answers whilst being under pressure. Under pressure of it all. Why can't it be so simple to understand the world? There is no way to change our ways, this is we under pressure and always running from the truth. As people say there is no need to worry but Paggaz is one of those people who cannot stop thinking about shit. This is it; the time is near, his end and the fall of the twelve. His death. There is no mountain high enough. There is no way or no how but Paggaz was starting up a prostitution headquarters business with this certain young French woman called Mrs Honey-Bunny. Yeah, he admits that it is a bit disgusting but Paggaz changes his attitude all the time like the weather.

Doing everything in style, with gold in his eye and by this time there is no need to die. So there is all that is basic in the world is that so simple. It is just animal instinct that comes to mind that things are quite possible to all things in the world of today. Even to the strangest of people can be normal near or less. Desperation leads to extreme behaviour in certain ways and delays. Nothing seems outrageous as the whole aspect of despise in human nature. Growing old and having hatred of this civilization. It is the emotion that tortured Paggaz for months. Sitting here in a boring dark room, thinking about numerous things within the world of tomorrow whilst plotting and planning of what to do with his life…

No conclusion, no answer and still running away from the deep dark secret that is hidden in plain sight. The oldest questions in the whole entire universe, silence will fall when the questions are asked and silence is not a species but is a religious order or movement. Not knowing where he is coming or going with the whole aspect of ensuring the fact that Paggaz is running from himself. That is life of running and hiding from seeing no evil hearing no evil. It was a hot summer night of late July, the silent chirping of the crickets and as Paggaz woke up with his short legs dangling from the branches in the troldalian trees whilst he stared into the horizon sun. The gentle breeze of dazed mists that swept throughout the landscape, three suns gleamed fitfully through the long fingers of cloud that scudded across their faces that send flickering sparkling highlights that scattered over the foamed overgrown rose bushes down below. Dazed and confused on how he woke up in the place of total utter strangeness, it was similar to middle Earth but with more tint of ginger in a way that suited the atmosphere.

Silence will fall when the question is asked, the oldest question in the universe, the first question, hidden in plain sight and silence is not a species but a religious order or movement. As time had passes by in relative time for Paggaz, not knowing where his time/space travel ship is, well, basically it is all that he needs and the entire damn luck in the world for this. Stuck in this blundering era of time and better make use of it for being aged 973 years. It is time for a new adventure of quite unpleasant mass-happening and there is plenty of things to look forward to like for example; the celebration of intarsias Orsk festival, the battle of trengialor and Bruce Forsyth's 231st birthday on Thursday.

It was not as such a big deal in the form that people will expect but Paggaz just wondering into the world of his own with it all, not knowing where or when or ever since or basically things are not what they are meant to be. To be or not to be – that is the question or is it nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of time. The mist of time is lost throughout the space time continuum of a distant galaxy.

The emerald moon glowed restlessly through the extended lifeless boned digits of haze that swept across its face guiding dancing glittering highlights that flittering over the wild undergrowth down under. Breezes gusted moderately and swift by the speckled pyramids that announced like a thousand pipelines had teased the midcourse and a million ghouls had scurried by. More or less human nature is not always apart of us all. Basic understanding was away with the strangest things. Paggaz waltzed alone into the darkness of the lower city, casts of shadows swept across the lightly dimmed streets, gentle winds drafted all around him and he kept on walking quickly whilst thinking to himself. Thinking on how it can connect with one another and trying to desert most plans which 6 out 10 go to shit. Basically it was not that huge or legendary, Steven grey had crapped himself at a party and he was drunk. In the spot light, thoughts of nothingness drifting into nothingness and as I see it was nothing but a mystery aspect also it seems that nothing is really. Left here alone walking the streets of darkness and cold. Wind sweeps under the feet of dread and worry. There is no hope left in the hearts of Paggaz as he does not know where to go now or what else to do. This is one of the most common emotions in Paggaz's whole life. Being alone and he is used to it now. At his age, 1562 years, he grows tired of the universe now but as he sees it that his job is never done and there is nothing else looking forward to but he is happy that he is a free man without a tag along. Come to the think of it that he can do whatever he wants for his life now. Anything, just imagine that, just do anything in your life without any consciousness or worry but there are a few things that you have to be worrying about. You cannot go around life without worry or regret although apart from that it is easy as hell.

Gabby: I wish I could tell you that you'll be treasured. That you'll be in safe hands and cared for and secure. But this isn't the time for falsehoods. What you are going to be, Melody, is very, very heroic.
Madame Kashwant: Three minutes.
Gabby: But not as brave as they all have to be. Because there's someone coming. I don't see where he is, or pardon he's undertaking, but belief me. He's on his approach.

Twenty Thousand Light Years Away

Cyber voice: Imposter at level seventeen. Seal level seventeen.

Gabby: There's a bloke who's not ever going to let us down. And not even a legion can get in the way. He's the last of his species. He appearances is young but he's survived for hundreds and thousands of years. And anywhere they take you, Melody, though frightened you are, I assure you, you will not once will be by yourself. Since this gentleman is your father. He has a title, but the folks of our world know him better... as the Former Roman.

Charles : I have a point and a question. A memo from the Paggaz and a query from me. Where is my wife? Oh don't give me those blank looks. The Sixteenth Cyber Legion monitors this entire quadrant. You hear all. So you tell me what I need to know. You tell me now and I'll be on my way.
Cyber man: What is the Paggaz's message? {the fleet explodes behind Charles }
Charles: Would you like me to repeat the question?

Thin One: A whole Cyber Legion though. He just blew them all up. To make a point.
Fat One: We're being rewarded to fight him, not praise him. Praising costs way more.

Fat One: Digger says he once chased the Ataraxic off a planet. And then called them back for a scolding!
Thin One: Fight him, not praise him.

Guard 1: Now. Try again. {he holds up two pieces of paper—one blank}
Guard 2: That one.
Guard 1: No, that's the psychic. You got to look for the fractals. Don't look bored. We're on yellow alert.
Guard 2: We've been on yellow alert for five fucking weeks.

Overhead: Reminder: Do not interact with Headless Priests without divine permission.

Fat One: You're not supposed to stare at them. And if they think you're trying to see under their hoods they'll kill you. On the spot.
Thin One
: Why are they baptized the Headless Priests? They can't actually be headless.
Lorna Bucket : They believe the area of reliance is the core and the realm of hesitation is the head. They shadow their sentiments, that's all.
Thin One
: You're Lorna Bucket, aren't you?
Lorna: Yeah.
Thin One: Hello. I'm the Thin One. This is my husband. He's the Fat One.
Lorna: Don't you have names?
Fat One: We're the Thin Fat Gay Married Anglican Marines. Why would we need names as well?

Fat One: Oh! Looks like I'm off. Time for my conversion tutorial. See you in a bit. {he leaves with the Monks} Do you have Lent? 'Cause I'm not good at giving things up.

Thin One: Lorna Bucket. You've had an encounter, haven't you? You've met him.
Lorna: I was just a kid.
Thin One: But what's he like? The Paggaz?
Lorna: He said, "legit."
Thin One: Just "legit"?
Lorna: He said it a lot.
Thin One: And this was in the Gamma Forests, yeah? 'Cause you're a Gamma girl, aren't you? What are you doing here? The forests are Heaven-neutral.
Lorna: Yeah. And thirty seconds of Paggaz is the only thing that ever happened there.

Fat One: Oh this is nice. I like this. I mean, quite a lot of red. Hope it's not to hide the stains. What's in the little boxes?
Overhead
: Welcome Applicant, to the Order of the Headless. It is traditional for visiting armies of other faiths to offer individuals for conversion to our order. You have been selected. Are you ready to make a donation?

Thin One: So what do you think? If Paggaz's really coming here, where is he?
Lorna: He's the Paggaz. He could be anywhere in time and space.

London, 1888 A.D.

Madame Vassar : Thank you, Parker, I won't be needing you again tonight.
Parker: Yes, m'lady.

Jenny : You're back early, mum. Another case cracked, I assume?
Madame Vassar: Send a telegram to Inspector Oberlin of the Yard. Jack the Ripper has claimed his last victim.
Jenny: How did you find him?
Madame Vassar: Stringy. But tasty all the same. I shan't be needing dinner.
Jenny: Congratulations, mum. However... a matter has arisen in the drawing room. {they find the QWERTY} It just appeared. What does it mean?
Madame Vassar: It means a very old debt is to be repaid. Pack the cases, Jenny. We're going to need the swords.

The Battle of Zarathustra, 4037 A.D.

Arthur: Will I be okay?
Commander Stray: Of course you will, my boy! You'll be up and around in no time. And perhaps one day you and I shall meet on the field of battle and I will destroy you for the glory of the Santorin Empire.
Arthur: Thanks nurse.

Captain Harcourt: Commander stray. I just have to ask: a Santarem nurse?
Commander stray: I serve a penance to restore the honours of my clone batch. It is the greatest punishment a Santarem can endure, to help the weak and sick.
Captain Harcourt: Who came up with that one? {the Qwerty materializes}
Commander stray: Tonight though, perhaps my penance is over. Captain Harcourt, I hope someday to meet you in the glory of battle where I shall crush the life from your worthless human form. {they bow} Try and get some rest.

Storm cage

Roger ( alarms going off): Oh turn it off! I'm breaking in not out. This is Roger Knobson back in her cell. Oh, and I'll take breakfast at the usual time. Thank you! Oh! Are you boys dressing up as Romans now? I thought nobody read my memos.
Charles: Paggaz Knobson. It's Charles. Sorry, have we met yet? Time streams. I'm not quite sure where we are.
Roger: Yes. Yes, we've met. Hello, Charles.
Charles :What's wrong?
Roger: It's my birthday. The Paggaz took me ice skating on the River Thames in 1814. The last of the Great Frost Fairs. He got Stevie Wonder to sing for me under London Bridge.
Charles: Tom jones sang in 1714?
Roger: Yes, he did. But you must never tell him.
Charles: I've come from the Paggaz too.
Roger: Yes, but at a different point in time.
Charles: Unless there are two of them.
Roger: Now. That's a whole different birthday.

Charles: He needs you.
Roger (checking the diary): Demon's Dash.
Charles: How did you know?
Roger: I'm from his future. I always know. Why on Earth are you wearing that?
Charles: Paggaz's idea.
Roger: Of course. His rules of engagement: float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.
Charles: Look ridiculous.
Roger: Have you considered heels?
Charles: They've taken Gabby. And our baby. The Paggaz's getting some people together. We're going after her, but he needs you too.
Roger: I can't. Not yet anyway.
Charles: I'm sorry?
Roger : This is the Battle of Demon's Run. Paggaz's darkest hour. He'll rise higher than ever before and then fall so much further. And... I can't be with him 'til the very end.
Charles: Why not?
Roger: 'Cause this is it. This is the day he finds out who I am.

Madame Kashwant: You appear to be closing down, Dorium.

Madame Kashwant: What have you heard?
Dorium Maldovar : That you pricked the side of a mighty beast, Madame Kashwant, and entirely failed to run. I admire your courage. {He repositions the barrels aimed at his head} I should like to admire it from afar.
Madame Kashwant: We've been waiting a month. He's done nothing.
Dorium: You would think so. There are people all over this galaxy that owe that man a debt. By now a few of them will have found a red post box waiting on their doorstep. Poor devils.
Colonel Manton: You think he's raising an army?
Dorium: You think he isn't? If that man is finally collecting on his debts, God help you. And God help his debtors.
Colonel Manton: Why?
Dorium: Colonel Manton. All those stories you've heard about him. They're not stories, they're true. Really. You're not telling me you don't know what's coming.
Colonel Manton: We're wasting our time here.
Madame Kashwant: Agreed.
Dorium: The asteroid. Where you've made your base. Do you know why they call it Demon's Sprint?
Colonel Manton: How do you know the location of our base?
Dorium: You're with the Headless Monks. They're old customers of mine.
Madame Kashwant: It's just some old saying.
Dorium: A very old saying. The oldest. "Demon's Run. When a good man goes to war."

Dorium as the QWERTY materializes: No! No no! Please! Not me! You don't need me! Why would you need me? I'm old! I'm fat! I'm purple! You can't need me!

Colonel Manton: He is not the devil. He is not a god. He is not a goblin or a phantom or a trickster. The Paggaz is a living, breathing man. And as I look around this room I know one thing: we're sure as hell gonna fix that.

Lorna: Sorry. I shouldn't be here. I'm meant to be at the thing. I brought you something. Your child's name in the language of my people. It's a prayer leaf. And we believe if you keep this with you, your child will always come home to you.
Gabby: Can I borrow your gun?
Lorna: Why?
Gabby: 'Cause I've got a feeling you're gonna keep 're talking like he's famous. The Paggaz isn't famous.
Lorna: He meets a lot of people. Some of them remember. He's sort of like a... I don't know. A Dark Legend.
Gabby: Dark? Have you met him?
Lorna: Yeah. But I was just a little girl then.
Gabby: So was I.
Lorna: You've been with him a long time then?
Gabby: No. He came back for me.
Lorna: You must be very special.
Gabby: Hey, you can wait a long time for the Paggaz but he's worth it, okay.. The thing is, he's coming. No question about it. Just you make sure you're on the right side when he gets here. Not for my sake, for yours.

Colonel Manton: On this day, in this place, the Paggaz will fall. The man who talks, the man who reasons, the man who lies will meet the perfect answer. Some of you have wondered why we have allied ourselves with the Headless Monks. Perhaps you should have wondered why we call them Headless. It's time you knew what these guys have sacrificed for faith. As you all know it is a level one heresy, punishable by death, to lower the hood of a Headless Monk. But by the Divine Grant of the Papal Mainframe herself, on this one and only occasion I can show you the truth. Because these guys never can be persuaded. {he lifts back the first monk's cowl} They never can be afraid. {he lifts back the second monk's cowl} And they can never ever be— {he lifts back the third monk's cowl to find}
Paggaz: Surprised! Hello everyone! Guess who? Please, point a gun at me if it helps you relax. You're only human.

Vassar and Jenny overpower the security guards
Madame Vassar: Go on, resist. I am ever so hungry.
Jenny: Now dear, which button controls the lights?

Colonel Manton: Paggaz, you will come with me right now.

Paggaz: Three minutes, forty seconds. {yelling} Gabby Timson! Get your coat! {the lights go out} I'm not a phantom.
Colonel Manton: Paggaz?
Paggaz: I'm not a trickster.
Colonel Manton: Paggaz?
Paggaz: I'm a Priest.
Colonel Manton: Paggaz, show yourself!
Cleric: It's him! He's here. It's him! {they shoot a monk}
Colonel Manton: Weapons down! Do not fire!

Colonel Manton: Stop. Wait. Listen to me. I am disarming my weapon pack. Monks, I do this in good faith. I am now unarmed. All of you, discharge your weapon packs. Paggaz is trying to make fools of us. We are soldiers of God. We are not fools.

Madame Vassar: Colonel Manton is regaining control.
Jenny: Where's Paggaz going?

In the main room, the disarmed soldiers find themselves surrounded by a mix of Silurian, Judean, and Commander stray
Commander stray
: This base is now under our command.
Colonel Manton: I have a fleet out there. If Demon's Run goes down, there is an automatic distress call.
Paggaz:Not if we knock out your communications array. And you've got incoming! Danny Boy to Paggaz, Danny Boy to Paggaz! Give 'em hell, Danny Boy!

Madame Kashwant: I need to get off this station now. Bring me the child!

Commander stray: Don't slump, it's bad for your spine.

Madame Kashwant: Get back in there with the rest of them. Remember, Paggaz must think he's winning. Right until the trap closes. I'll take my ship from here.

Madame Kashwant: I have a crew of twenty. How do you expect to gain control of my ship?
Henry Avery: The ship is ours, m'Lady.

Paggaz: Sorry Colonel Manton, I lied. Three minutes, forty-two seconds.

Commander stray: Colonel Manton, you will give the order for your men to withdraw.
Paggaz: No. Colonel Manton, I want you to tell your men to run away.
Colonel Manton: What?
Paggaz: Those words. "Run away." I want you to be famous for those exact words. I want people to call you Colonel Runaway. I want children laughing outside your door, 'cause they've found the house of Colonel Runaway. And when people come to you and ask if trying to get to me through the people I love! {he composes himself}... is in any way a good idea, I want you to tell them your name. Look, I'm angry, that's new. I'm really not sure what's going to happen now.
Madame Kashwant: The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules.
Paggaz: Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.
Madame Kashwant: Give the order. Give the order, Colonel Runaway.

Gabby: Who's there? You watch it, because I am armed and really dangerous, and... cross.
Charles: Yeah. Like I don't know that.

Gabby: They took her. Charles, they took our baby away.
Charles (walking in with Melody): Now, Mrs Brown, that is never ever going to happen.
Gabby : Oh my god. Where has she been, what have they done to her?
Charles: She's fine. Gabby, she's fine. I checked. She's beautiful. Oh god, I was going to be cool. I wanted to be cool. Look at me.
Gabby: You're okay. Crying Roman with a baby: definitely cool.

Paggaz : Ew. Kissing and crying. I'll be back in a bit.
Charles : Oy! You! Get in here. Now. My daughter. What do you think?
Paggaz : Hello! Hello, ah... baby.
Gabby: Melody.
Paggaz : Melody! Hello Melody Timson.
Charles : Melody Brown.
Gabby : Is a geography teacher. Melody Timson is a super hero.
Paggaz talking to Melody: Well yes I suppose she does smell nice. Never really sniffed her. Maybe I should give it a go. It's okay, she's still all yours. And really you should call her Mummy, not Big Milk Thing.
Gabby : Okay, what are you doing?
Paggaz : I speak baby.
Gabby : No you don't.
Paggaz : I speak everything. Don't I, Melody Timson? {straightening his bow tie} No it's not. It's cool.

Madame Vassar: Paggaz! Take a look. They're leaving. Demon's Sprint is ours without a drop of blood spilled. My friend, you have never risen higher.

Charles : Hey, what's wrong?
Gabby : She doesn't like the QWERTY noise. I asked him to turn something off, but he was all, "But I don't want to punch a hole in the space-time continuum."

Paggaz : She's not hungry, she's tired. Sorry, Melody. They're just not listening.
Gabby : What's this?
Paggaz : Very pretty, according to your daughter.
Charles : It's a cot.
Paggaz : No flies on the Roman. Give her here.
Charles : But where would you get a cot?
Gabby : It's old. Really old. Paggaz, um, do you have children?
Paggaz : No.
Gabby: Have you ever had children?
Paggaz (to baby): No, it's real. It's my hair.
Gabby : Who slept in here?

Paggaz : Things to do. I've still got to work out what this base is for. We can't leave 'til we know.

Paggaz : Centurion, permission to hug?
Charles : Be aware. I do have a sword.
Paggaz: At all times. {He hugs her}. You were on the QWERTY too—your heart, mind and soul. But physically, yes, you were still in this place.
Gabby : And when I saw that face looking through the hatch? That woman looking at me?
Paggaz : Reality bleeding through. They must have taken you quite a while back. Just before America.
Charles : That's probably enough hugging now. So her Flesh avatar was with us all that time. But that means they were projecting a control signal right into the QWERTY, wherever we were in time and space.
Paggaz : Yeah, they're very clever.
Gabby: Who are?
Charles : Whoever wants our baby.
Gabby : Why do they want her?
Paggaz: Exactly.
Charles : Is there anything you're not telling us? You knew Amy wasn't real, you never said.
Paggaz : No. I couldn't be sure they weren't listening.
Gabby : But you always hold out on us. Please, not this time, Paggaz, it's our baby. Tell us something. One little thing.
Paggaz: It's mine.
Charles: What is?
Paggaz: The cot. It's my cot. I slept in it.

Paggaz: You've hacked into their software then?
Dorium: I believe I sold it to them.
Paggaz: Oo! So what have we learned?
Madame Vassar: That anger is always the shortest distance to a mistake.
Paggaz: I'm sorry?
Madame Vassar: The words of an old friend. Who once found me in the London Underground attempting to avenge my sisters on perfectly innocent tunnel diggers.
Paggaz : Well, you were very cross at the time.
Madame Vastra: As you were today, old friend. Point taken, I hope. Now I have a question. A simple one. Is Melody human?
Paggaz : Sorry? What? Of course she is! Completely human! What are you talking about?
Dorium: They've been scanning her since she was born. And I think they found what they were looking for.
Paggaz: Human DNA.
Dorium: Look closer. Human plus. Specifically human plus Time Keeper.

Lorna: But I heard her talking. This is a trap. Why would I lie to you?

Charles: Well you might want to take a look at your uniform.
Lorna
: The only reason I joined the Clerics was so I could meet Paggaz again.
Jenny: You wanted to meet him, so you joined an army to fight him?
Lorna: Well, how else do you meet a great warrior?
Gabby: He's not a warrior.
Lorna: Then why's he called Paggaz? It's starting. Please, listen to me.

Paggaz: But she's human. She's Gabby and Charles's daughter.
Madame Vassar: You've told me about your people. They became what they did through prolonged exposure to the Time Vortex. The Untempered Schism.
Paggaz: Over billions of years! It didn't just happen.
Madame Vassar: So how close is she? Could she even regenerate?
Paggaz: No! No! I don't think so.
Madame Vassar: You don't sound so sure.
Paggaz : Because I don't understand how this happened.
Madame Vassar: Which leads me to ask when did it happen?
Paggaz : When?!
Madame Vassar: I am trying to be delicate. I know how you can blush. {Dorium laughs} When did this baby... begin?
Paggaz : Oh you mean...
Madame Vassar: Quite.
Paggaz : Well how would I know? That's all human and private stuff. It just sort of goes on, they don't put up a balloon or anything!
Madame Vassar: Well could the child have begun on the Qwerty, in flight in the Vortex?
Paggaz : No! No! Impossible! It's all running about, sexy fish vampires. And blowing up stuff. And Charles wasn't even there at the beginning. Then he was dead. Then he didn't exist. Then he was plastic. Then I had to reboot the whole Universe—long story. So, technically, the first time they were on the QWERTY together in this version of reality was on their w...
Madame Vassar: On their what?
Paggaz: On their wedding night.

Paggaz: It doesn't make sense. You can't just cook yourself a Time Keeper!
Madame Vassar: Of course not. But you gave them one hell of a start and they've been working very hard ever since.
Dorium: And yet they gave in so easily. Does this not bother anyone else?
Paggaz: Gabby, she worried the baby would have a Time Head. She said that—
Madame Vassar: Only you would ignore the instincts of a mother.
Dorium: Or the instincts of a coward. This is too easy. There's something wrong.
Paggaz: Why even do it? Even if you could get your hands on a brand new Time Keeper, what for?
Madame Vassar: A weapon?
Paggaz: Why would a Time Keeper be a weapon?
Madame Vassar: Well. They've seen you.
Paggaz: Me?
Madame Vassar: Mr Maldives, you're right. This was too easy. We should get back to the others.
Paggaz: Me.

Madame Kovarian: I see you accessed our files. Do you understand yet? Oh don't worry, I'm a long way away. But I like to keep tabs on child then, what do you think?
Paggaz: What is she?
Madame Kovarian: Hope. Hope in this endless, bitter war.
Paggaz: What war? Against who?
Madame Kovarian: Against you, Paggaz.

Gabby: What's that?
Madame Vassar: Force field.
Lorna: And those are the doors. Locking.
Madame Vassar: Apparently we're not leaving.
Charles: Is that the monks?
Dorium: Oh dear god! That's the attack prayer!
Charles: Quick, come with me!
Madame Vassar: Commander stray!
Commander stray: I'm trying to seal off this area of the lighting grid.
Madame Vassar: This is where we'll make our stand. Clear lines of sight on all approaches.

Gabby: Charles, no offense to the others, but you let them all die first, okay?
Charles: You're so Scottish.

Madame Vassar: The child, at all costs! Protect the child!

Paggaz: The child is not a weapon!
Madame Kashwant: Oh give us time. She can be. She will be.
Paggaz: Except you've already lost her and I swear I will never let you anywhere near her again.
Madame Kashwant: Oh Paggaz. Fooling you once was a joy. But fooling you twice the same way? It's a privilege.

Roger: Demons run when a good man goes to war
Night will fall and drown the sun
When a good man goes to war
Friendship dies and true love lies
Night will fall and the dark will rise
When a good man goes to war
Demon's Run, but count the cost
The battle's won but the child is lost

Commander stray: It's strange. I have often dreamed of dying in combat. I am not enjoying it as much as I'd hoped.

Gabby: So they took her anyway. All this was for nothing.
Paggaz: I am so sorry.
Jenny: Gabby, it's not his fault.
Gabby: I know. I know.

Madame Vassar: Paggaz, there's someone who wants to speak to you. Her name is Lorna. She came to warn us.

Paggaz: Hey. Hello.
Lorna: Paggaz.
Paggaz :You helped my friends. Thank you.
Lorna: I met you once. In the Gamma Forests. You don't remember me.
Paggaz : Hey, of course I remember. I remember everyone. Hey, we ran, you and me. Didn't we run, Lorna? {she dies} Who was she?
Madame Vassar: I don't know, but she was very brave.
Paggaz: They're always brave. They're always brave.

Madame Vassar: So What now? They'd almost certainly have taken her to Earth, raise her in the correct environment.
Paggaz : Yes, they did. And it's already too late.
Madame Vassar: You're giving up? You never do that.
Paggaz : Yeah, and don't you sometimes wish I did?

Roger (appearing): Well then soldier, how goes the day?
Paggaz: Where the hell have you been? Every time you've asked I have been there! Where the hell were you today?
Roger : I couldn't have prevented this.
Paggaz: You could have tried!
Roger: And so, my love, could you. {to Gabby} I know you're not all right. But hold tight, Gabby. Because you're going to be.
Paggaz : You think I wanted this? I didn't do this! This, this wasn't me!
Roger : This was exactly you. All this. All of it. You make them so afraid. When you began all those years ago, sailing off to see the Universe, did you ever think you'd become this? The man who can turn an army around at the mention of his name. "Paggaz." The word for healer and wise man throughout the Universe. We get that word from you, you know. But if you carry on the way you are, what might that word come to mean? To the people of the Gamma Forests, the word Paggaz means "Mighty Warrior." How far you've come. And now they've taken a child. The child of your best friends. And they're going to turn her into a weapon just to bring you down. And all this, my love, in fear of you.
Paggaz: Who are you?
Roger: Oh look! Your cot. I haven't seen that in a very long while!
Paggaz: No, you tell me— you tell me who you are.
Roger: I am telling you. Can't you read?

Paggaz: Hello.
Roger: Hello.
Paggaz: But that means!
Roger : I'm afraid it does.
Paggaz: Oyo. But you and I, we, we, we, uh...
Roger: Yes.
Paggaz : How do I look?
Roger: Amazing.
Paggaz: I better be.
Roger :Yes, you'd better be.
Paggaz :Vassar and Jenny, 'til the next time. Charles and Gabby, I know where to find your daughter and on my life she will be safe! Roger, get them all home.
Charles: Paggaz !
Gabby: No! Where are you going? No.

Gabby : Where is he going? What did you tell him?
Roger : Gabby, you have to stay calm.
Gabby :Tell me what you told the Paggaz.
Charles : No, stop it.
Roger : It's okay, Charles. She's fine. She's good. It's the Qwerty translation matrix. It takes a while to kick in with the written word. You have to concentrate.
Gabby: I still can't read it.
Roger: It's because it's Phalliafreyan. It doesn't translate. {she hands her the leaf} But this will. It's your daughter's name in the language of the Forest.
Gabby: I know my daughter's name.
Roger: Except they don't have a word for Timson. Because the only son in the forest is a Roger. Paggaz will find your daughter. And he will care for her, whatever it takes. And I know that. It's me. I'm Melody. I'm your daughter.

THE END