Chapter 22 - The Duel
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Somewhere on the edge of the vast expanse of Lore, there is a port. The primary docking point of entrance and exit, where citizens of the continent go for extended leave for whatever reason. Right off the dock is the station where all the processing is done, and it was there that Archer was signing in, refreshed, back from a foray into Life.
He smiled as his Mod equipment was returned to him, picking up one of the swords and running his palm along the length of the blade. Though his absence wasn’t without its own considerable merit, it did feel good to be back.
He slung the last sack over his shoulder and left, following the quick route back to his home.
Anything.
The troglodyte chuckled at the sight of the traffic in and out of his home realm. A cheerful sight.
That is, until he strode past the city limits. He frowned, unsure of the growing sensation of unease he was experiencing. Looking up he couldn’t help but notice dark clouds looming in the sky, a thunderstorm brewing over the inner city. He sighed heavily, desperately hoping this wasn’t another cause for a long and arduous adventure with the Fellowship.
He tried to convince himself it was perfectly normal. In all his time as a Mod, he’d often encountered atmosphere disturbances like this. Sometimes it was caused merely by his own mood, sometimes by a raucous disturbance left unchecked, or Mods clashing over a thread.
However, the discomfort only grew as he strode forth, upheld by his duty to investigate. A quick stop to unpack and equip, and he was off on the hunt, sniffing out the source of the foreboding skies. The further and further he got within Anything, the darker and darker it appeared, fog banks even rolling through as it began to rain. Big, thick rain, the kind that stings when it drills you in the eye.
As he crept amongst the alleyways and back-trodden routes, he noticed the usual denizens chatting, a few lurking in the shadows, hidden to most. He continued journeying forth, catching bits of a conversation that concerned him. From it, he knew that his eventual destination was the town square itself, the very center of Anything, the open stage of drama and glory from ages past.
The last place he’d want this to go down at.
He mumbled under his breath as the clouds actually swirled above, thick raindrops assaulting him by the thousands. Then Archer arrived, town square at last, its usual busy bustling a bit lessened at the moment.
He squinted, looking back and forth, noting the hesitation in everyone’s steps. Something was bothering them, some choosing to ignore it, some badgering it head on.
The subject of their anxiety soon slammed into his awareness like a train derailed.
Archer spotted a less heartier Anythinger wailing as he made a run for it, legs pumping, feet splashing through any puddle in his path. Something pursued him, a dark figure in the mists, a phantom, a phantasm.
The Mod of Anything and Other Games turned his gaze over the whole square, noticing something odd. A few were appearing more than once. An anomaly, doppelgangers created purely for confusion, mischief. The clones, their number growing, were soon cackling in their own delight.
Archer drew his massive Bow of Flaming and quickly fired, the resulting incinerating neatly taking care of one of the hollow projections, the ghastly figure left to scream and run away to cower and heal somewhere.
They’d taken over the area, members of the forum afraid to enter the area at all. The former leader of the New Fellowship boldly stepped forward, wondering where the other Mods were, that tasks they surely had at hand, if they were so busy in General perhaps.
As the clones danced about in the fury of the storm, Archer walked up to the central figure, a being flanked by two of his own mirrored images, each adorned in spectacles and a goofy hat that matched their flowing robes, concealing their full capability.
Lightning flash and thunder rolled as all in the vicinity fell to a hush. Archer’s presence was noted, word of it beginning to trickle out.
“Archer, welcome back. We missed you.”
The lightning returned, for a moment neatly highlighting the grin on the face of the central figure and his clones.
“You like what I’ve done with the place?”
“It ends tonight. The Matrix parallels, I mean. I think we’re all getting sick of it.”
Nods of agreement from a few bystanders, indications of a growing crowd of spectators not to be driven away by the clones. In fact, even many of the clones were joining them to watch the confrontation.
“I’m taking over Anything. I don’t think you can stop me.”
Archer chucked, breaking the stark silence of the widely-circling crowd.
“Bold words, boy. But I’m still the Mod here. Something you’ll never be, after pulling this little stunt. Just wait ‘til the others get here.”
Before he could continue, the cloned one laughed defiantly. “The others? You mean, the Anything Mods? They’re well aware of my actions, but not going to do a thing about it, I even got their permission! Not like I’m going to harm them, but yes, I have my agenda. They’re putty in my hands, trog. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but my time will come, and I’ll be the one running things around here.”
The troglodyte didn’t waiver or flinch, his peripheral vision picking up on further spectators arriving, as if the whole of Anything was slowly being drawn here to witness. His honed Mod eyes double-checked, making sure the one he was facing was indeed real, and not another mere image.
He was definitely real, even if he seemed a bit maniacal, even crazier than usual. The two behind him, shadows, mindless remnants of another’s imagination.
“I can’t let that happen, YOYOY. I’m never going to let Anything, in one form or another. So I guess if you want it, you’ll have to get through me first.”
All the clones of different forms cackled and chattered wildly, sounding to the world like a pack of hellish imps.
“You? Please, Archer. For once, for just a single time throughout your entire existence in Lore, try being reasonable. You’ve lost your edge. You’re no longer Emperor, you don’t have your Army of followers anymore, you’re not the main man, the protagonist, you’re a tired old washed-out husk. You had your time, your glory, but face it, you’re over, done.”
Archer scowled, taking another step forward before retorting, now face to face with the one he would’ve never guessed as the manipulative, backhanded, egotistical obsessive realm-conquering maniac.
“I don’t claim to be the number One here. But what makes you think you’re any better?”
YOYOY’s clones chuckled.
“People love me, what can I say? I’m not such a bad guy. It’s inevitable. I have charisma! Check it out, even now, everyone here is hanging on my every word!”
The trog slowly looked around, a part of him startled to find that it was true. Every single person here was attentive, listening to his grand prattling, and obviously not for the first time. They didn’t show any objection to YOYOY, perhaps to the clones, but the clown prince wasn’t at fault, too pure to touch, a beacon amidst the dark and the storm, their remnant of lightheartedness. Archer found it sickening, how it was all being twisted, whim tossed back and forth without consequence, the capriciousness of it all so maddening. He turned back to the question man, who continued.
“I can sway them, their ebb and flow of public opinion, the masses waiting for a champion, a new golden age of Anything. You, no. As I said, you’ve lost your edge, your charisma fluttering away in the winds of change. You’ve said it yourself, you’re a punching bag! They hate you, and you know it, as they only wait for you to leave, your barbaric seething mind unable to reform, always pushing too far and brunt, blunt, beating about in an utterly deplorable manner. You’ve considered it before, and heavily, but your stubborn self always returning, never having enough! Take a hint, just walk away now while you still have a shred of dignity intact.”
Archer stood silent, stunned, a bit taken aback by the ease of which the words passed over YOYOY’s lips, spat out like bitter poison. The Mod turned wildly, looking for someone to object, to appeal on his behalf, only finding shrugs and murmurs in the torrent.
He then turned back to his verbal attacked, sighing heavily. “I love Anything. Everyone here is great, we have some good times. It’s that simple. I don’t know what you’ve done, how you’ve corroded my home or rotted their minds, but even if they hate me, as you imply, and even if I’m only buying a one-way ticket out of here, so be it. I’m not letting you carve Anything into your likeness, I’m not letting it be taken over by you. I still don’t think you could even pull it off, but don’t think I’m about to even give you a chance. I’m still a Mod.”
Y0Y0Y turned to OYOYOY behind YOYOY and blatantly muttered “Not for long!”
The three laughed, as did a few of the other clones and maybe a handful of the spectators, now a massive group seeped in every square inch of the surrounding streets and square, those unable to make it close enough to see settling for crudely climbing onto any structure they could find to get a decent view.
Archer just stood there, still a bit unsure of what was going on, letting it all sink in, wondering what all had occurred since his absence. Meanwhile, YOYOY stared him down. “Well, mighty trog? What’s it going to be? You gonna hit me or something? Come on, give it your best shot.”
The goofy one grinned, leaning forward and obnoxiously jutting out his chin, much to the humorous accord of his developing throng of followers and imitators.
Archer shrugged and let fly a quick right jab, a surprised YOYOY falling back, any onlookers now silenced. The fallen one growled, drawing a pair of daggers and rolling forward, rapidly swiping at Archer, who was agilely backing away.
The Mod frowned, not taking long to realize something was a bit wrong here, as YOYOY leapt forward, Archer working to block his talented triple-kick, grabbing the last foot and twisting, YOYOY somehow catching himself with a hand, pivoting on it and kicking Archer in the chest with his other foot, drawing him off as each regained neutral stances.
Archer craned his neck, and sure enough, he heard the faint cry of a dodo in the crowd, crying “Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
‘YOYOY’ began stepping back, snickering. Archer couldn’t help but think he’d perhaps been gone a bit too long.
“You’re not YOYOY…”
Something jumped onto Archer’s back in comical fashion, arms wrapping around his head in some form of a not-quite-sleeper hold.
“Hey, give the lug a hand!”
The crowd laughed and, indeed, offered a small round of applause as Archer reeled forward a bit, regaining his balance.
“Great job Zach, couldn’t have said it better myself!”
The Mod slowly reached up to grab the true YOYOY on his back.
“You’re insane!”
YOYOY rolled his eyes obnoxiously. “This, from the man who thinks golf is a sport.”
Further laughter from the audience, suddenly ceasing when Archer peeled the cretin off his back and slammed him harshly onto the wet ground. The crowd booed.
YOYOY stood up, grinning and giggling as he drew his club, rushing forward to meet the troglodyte.
He drew back and let forth a mighty swing, as his sturdy club snapped across the Mod like a feeble twig. Archer yawned in exaggeration, checking his Mod watch, the crowd managing to chuckle a bit at the folly.
He then settled to just shove the not-even-a-Warlord to the ground again. YOYOY whimpered, clearly in pain as he looked pathetically up at Archer, the troglodyte now towering over him with hands on his hips. The rain had stopped, the crowd watching eagerly.
“I was just having a little fun…”
Archer didn’t say a word.
“I didn’t mean it, honest…”
Archer blinked once.
“Come on, Archer…”
Archer shook his hand, grabbing YOYOY by the ear and dragging him off, the loser whining and pouting.
Someone started clapping, and soon the applause was deafening, with hooting and hollering and whistling as the dark clouds dispersed overhead, blue skies returning yet again to the land of Anything as they made way for Archer and their latest troublemaker.
The various clones shrugged, returning to obscurity, only mildly disappointed that there hadn’t been a good opportunity to slip in an episode II reference.
As Archer reprimanded YOYOY, he had the feeling that this was one of those stories with like a lesson or a moral or something.
*
© Eric Bailey