The Mercury Room Chronicles- Generations- Chapter16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN HEROES *** ‘I want to get the next game started,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said suddenly. ‘It is a pity you do not make the rules here then, isn’t it?’ The Ninth Manager snorted. ‘I’d like a Plasma Cannon so I could blow you all to oblivion. But we don’t always get what we want now, do we?’ ‘I agree with The Dr.,’ Raljex spoke up from where he had seated himself in a spiked torture chair, seemingly indifferent to the metal skewers that were puncturing him. ‘I grow tired of your bickering and in-fighting. I wish to reach the End-Game of this contest. We shall begin a new game right now. I fear there will be little sport in the joust.’ ‘Then let’s do this,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said testily. ‘I’d like to stay to watch over myselves, but they’re big boys, they can look after themselves.’ ‘You know, I’d really like some candyfloss,’ The Seventh Dr. said suddenly as he flicked a set of manacles on the wall so that they swung back and fourth. ‘… Mostly,’ The Thirteenth Dr. grunted. ‘You’re really going to abandon us?’ The First Dr. said in a panicked voice. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ The Thirteenth Dr. shrugged. ‘I would have to participate at one time or another …’ He glanced at Raljex with a look of deep loathing. ‘But I would rather not spend any more time here. The company isn’t to my liking.’ ‘I understand,’ The Fourth Dr. nodded. ‘I don’t know what you and Raljex’s history is, but after what he did to Twelfth, I don’t really want to be around him either. I haven’t lived through the pain yet, only you have. I understand that you’d rather not be near the guy.’ Thirteenth nodded and licked his lips. ‘We will discuss it at length one day. But for now kiddo, you’re in charge. You made the challenge, and between you, Third, the alcoholic, the newbie and the cabbage, you’re going to need all the luck in the world.’ ‘Don’t worry,’ The Third Dr. said. ‘I’m still here.’ ‘How very touching,’ Raljex interjected. ‘If I might interrupt the sentimentality for a moment. I have made a decision.’ ‘Do tell,’ The Third Dr. grunted. ‘This will be a doubles-match,’ Raljex chuckled. ‘Two Dr.’s and Two Managers. You will both decide one combatant. I shall decide the other via dice roll.’ Raljex fished in his leopard-skin coat and produced two dice. One blue, one green. ‘This should make things infinitely more interesting, don’t you agree?’ * ‘Watch your step,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said as he gingerly helped his mentally unstable Seventh incarnation down the steps into the darkened corridor beyond. ‘At least you don’t have to compete on your own, mate.’ ‘It hardly seems worth it,’ The Fifth Manager snorted in his silky voice as he shrugged his white suit jacket around himself. ‘Putting somebody as brilliant and lick-the-mirror handsome as me against the vegetable. I’m almost insulted.’ ‘You’ll be assaulted if you talk about him in negative terms again,’ The Thirteenth Dr. roared angrily, grabbing The Fifth Manager by the lapels and shoving him against the stone wall of the corridor. ‘I’m not in the mood for you, Nigel.’ ‘Then you should have simply submitted,’ The Ninth Manager humphed, separating the pair by stepping between them. ‘Now, unless you want to have this descend into a punch-up and have the game disregarded due to a double-disqualification, then I suggest we move on and see what Raljex has in store for us.’

‘The Thirteenth Dr. hardened his expression at The Ninth Manager. ‘You always were the most lucid one,’ he remarked. ‘I try, Dr.,’ The Ninth Manager clucked. ‘The most lucid?’ The Fifth Manager laughed. ‘You mean the weakest link? I’m completely ashamed to be in this contest with him. The Manager that said “No” to evil. It’s a good job you’re not around long enough to do our reputation any real damage.’ ‘I’m around long enough,’ The Ninth Manager shrugged as they continued forward. ‘We can’t all be villainous, sociopathic madmen.’ ‘You say it like it’s a bad thing,’ The Fifth Manager pouted as they at last reached a large wooden door set into the end wall of the corridor. On the door was a note from Raljex that read: I MAKE NO EXCUSES. IT’S HARD THINKING OF GAMES THAT WILL CHALLENGE YOU AND I’M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR ANY MORE KNIGHTLY ANTICS. GET ON WITH IT AND DO NOT COMPLAIN. ‘That doesn’t sound too promising,’ The Ninth Manager intoned as they entered the room. Before them was a stone room with bare, Medieval furnishing befitting that period in history. Fires burned brightly in pits around the perimeter, spiked weapons hung from the walls and ceiling and what seemed to be satanic symbols had been scrawled on the walls in what The Dr. hoped sincerely wasn’t the blood of a virgin … but that’s what it looked to be. All of which was off-set by the giant plasma-screen television in the middle of the chamber. ‘Hmmm, yes,’ The Ninth Manager nodded. ‘How very medieval.’ ‘DR.!’ The Thirteenth Dr. suddenly disappeared under a mass of shaggy fur as a giant gorilla accosted him and pulled him into a tight embrace. ‘DR.!’ It shouted again. ‘I knew we would meet again! I saw the signs on my Banana Macintosh!’ ‘Good to see you again, Rapeape,’ The Dr. nodded, disentangling himself from the ape. ‘He’s hiding it well, but he’s happy to see you,’ Pastor Zen said with a tisk. ‘I can only wish our reunion could be under better circumstances,’ The Thirteenth Dr. clucked in reply. ‘Lotion makes you slippery,’ Rapeape nodded diligently. ‘I saw a square with five sides once,’ The Seventh Dr. replied. ‘Very good,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said, inhaling sharply. ‘I should probably just lobotomise myself, then things might at least be bearable.’ ‘I thought we were supposed to have three assistants,’ The Fifth Manager commented, looking over at The Dr. ‘You appear to be one short.’ The Dr. looked from Rapeape, to Pastor Zen and narrowed his eyes. He stared at a far section of the wall which appeared to be fluctuating. ‘I’m aware of the situation,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said, biting his lip. ‘My third assistant will be along presently. It seems the all-powerful Raljex has made a miscalculation. I take it you’re satisfied with your own?’ ‘If you wish to continue short-handed,’ The Ninth Manager shrugged as he cast a sideways glance at the three small furry creatures that were shouting and jeering in their high-pitched nonsensical language. Jibblettes. Why did it have to be Jibblettes? They were a race of glorified dust bunnies that were fit to be Cheerleaders and not much else. ‘So be it.’ ‘I doubt that they will be able to offer anything other than support in this matter,’ The Dr. said as he picked up the plastic device that rested on a table before them and pulled the strap over his head before affixing a similar device to The Seventh Dr. who toyed with the multicoloured buttons of the implement. ‘You don’t mind if we go first?’ The Dr. queried, raising an eyebrow, clicking the green button and activating the menu on the television. ‘Be our guest,’ The Fifth Manager beamed snootily. ‘I do believe that this will be a best-ofthree contest in any case.’ ‘So be it then,’ The Thirteenth Dr. nodded and turned to the screen before him. He had not played this game for some time and he was quite certain that The Seventh Dr. would have no chance at keeping up. This game was practically over, but he was not a defeatist by any standards. ‘Okay,’ he said, leaning over to his Seventh incarnation and whispering. ‘This may be a little beyond you, but you need to focus for me, can you do that?’

The Seventh Dr. pondered the question for a moment and patted his lip. ‘I like turtles,’ he said finally. ‘No way!’ Rapeape shouted. ‘I like turtles too!’ ‘COULD WE FOCUS?!’ The Thirteenth Dr. shouted and gritted his teeth in frustration without taking his gaze from seventh’s face. ‘Now, come on, Dr. If you don’t concentrate we’re going to loose. I know its strange and difficult for you to understand but-’ ‘Hit the buttons when the TV tells me to,’ The Seventh Dr. said suddenly. ‘Beg your pardon?’ The Thirteenth Dr. blanched. ‘Hit the buttons when the TV tells me to,’ The Seventh Dr. repeated and wove his fingers up and down the coloured buttons. ‘Yes, yes, that’s exactly right,’ The Thirteenth Dr. nodded with a smile. ‘That’s perfect!’ ‘That’s lucky,’ Pastor Zen corrected. ‘Who cares what it is!’ The Thirteenth Dr. smiled as he took up his plastic guitar. ‘Now, Seventh, which song do you want to play?’ * The final bars of “Through The Fire and Flames” by Dragonforce faded away to be replaced by an explosive “YOU ROCK!” Message from the game. ‘One-hundred per-cent completion on Expert level,’ The Thirteenth Dr. laughed loudly, clapping his seventh incarnation on the back. ‘I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. You beauty! At first I thought Guitar Hero was a bit of a stretch to be linked with the Medieval Zone but there’s something almost barbarian-esque about wielding an axe like the ghost of Hendrix!’ ‘Where is my leg?’ The Seventh Dr. mumbled. ‘… Yeah …’ The Thirteenth Dr. nodded, trying not to let Seventh’s insanity spoilt the moment. ‘That too.’ ‘I like towels,’ Seventh nodded surely to himself and sat down in a corner, biting on his thumbnail. ‘Congratulations, Dr.,’ The Ninth Manager said. Though he was intending to be civil, the anger in his voice was evident. ‘I can’t see the need to rub salt in the wound like that. You have already won two of the rounds. To play the third and attain yet another perfect score is simply unsporting.’ ‘It was a victory song,’ The Thirteenth Manager shrugged. ‘I think it was well deserved.’ ‘You lucked out, nothing more,’ The Fifth Manager spat. ‘Just because that biscuitspitter of yours has managed to delve up some Autistic ability doesn’t mean that you are superior.’ ‘I told you to be careful about how you talk about him,’ The Thirteenth Dr. said angrily, balling his fists. ‘You know, I can’t wait until we ultimately win this competition and scour your stain from the Universe once and for all, Dr.!’ The Fifth Manager cursed. ‘Hey, Dr.,’ Pastor Zen said, suddenly appearing at The Dr.’s elbow. ‘There’s something going on that I think you need to see.’ The Dr. followed the direction that Pastor Zen was pointing to the corner of the room that had been shimmering and fluctuating wildly as the game progressed. There was now some sort of black portal forming. ‘I see,’ The Dr. nodded. ‘I thought we would end the game before my other assisting member arrived. Apparently it was not to be. It was foolish of me to think that it would. Afterall, for me, it has already happened and there’s no way to change history.’ ‘What is he blathering about?’ The Fifth Manager huffed, folding his arms. ‘There should be no events of consequence happening during these games.’ ‘Du Kannst Meine Kimme Rasieren!’ Rapeape suddenly bellowed at the Manager. ‘I’ve no intention of going anywhere near your arsecrack you barbaric excuse for a primate!’ The Fifth Manager –who was fluent in several languages– retorted. ‘To shave it or otherwise.’ ‘I think there’s someone coming through,’ Pastor Zen said.

‘What, through my arsecrack?’ Rapeape asked frantically, turning in circles to look at his behind without success. ‘Through the portal you fuzzy imbecile!’ The Fifth Manager tisked as a human shape appeared within the portal, gradually becoming more and more tangible. A booted foot stepped forward from the shadowy confines of the vortex, followed by a leg clad in cammo-pants, and then the upper half of the person who raised a large gun at the people in the room. The newcomers eyes flicked from person to person, scrutinizing each one in turn. ‘Dr.?’ The newcomer questioned. ‘Yes?’ The Seventh Dr. said, fingering his chin as he rose to his feet and squinted into the receding portal. ‘Am really, really sorry aboot this,’ L96A1 said, then fired. *** ‘And then I degenerated,’ The Eighth Dr. puffed, patting himself down. ‘Bloody inconvenient timing, let me tell you. Right in the middle of the contest? It’s cheek, that’s what it is.’ ‘Be thankful he did not shoot you before you participated in the games,’ Raljex hummed. ‘The Eighth incarnation of The Dr. has already participated in the games, he cannot do so again.’ ‘Oh,’ The Eighth Dr. shrugged. ‘Well then it’s bad timing, mixed in with a little bit of really good fortune … or something like that … something probably not quite like that but enough like that for me not to be wrong in what I’m going on about … … … am I making sense?’ ‘No more than usual,’ The Third Dr. tutted, shaking his head. ‘At least Neil has now executed “The Dr.”,’ Thirteenth nodded to himself. ‘We’re off his list.’ ‘But countless others are still on it,’ The Fourth Dr. snapped. ‘We’ve got to stop him.’ ‘Put it this way,’ The Thirteenth Manager chuckled. ‘If you loose this tournament, then your little supersoldier friend will never be sent out to kill all your little friends.’ ‘Actually, since he’s part of this, he’ll be destroyed along with me if I loose,’ The Fourth Manager retorted. ‘Oooh! Have I mentioned how much I love all this drama?!’ Raljex smiled, clapping his hands together. ‘I do hope it continues as we move on to our next zone,’ he said, almost shouting as the Thirteenth and newly Degenerated Eight Dr.’s disappeared in a flash of white light. ‘As that last game only counts as one, The Dr. is leading by a single point.’ ‘The joy,’ The Twelfth Manager said, folding his arms as he watched the Third and Fourth Dr.’s hoist the injured Twelfth Dr. to his feet. ‘Let us move to the Futuristic Zone!’ Raljex cried as he ran off down the dungeon corridor to a passageway that was brightly lit with the glow of luminescent light.