They had to walk and it took them a long time. Finally they reached what was considered by many the northernmost city of Maebaleia’s Deep South. Or Satori I guess I should say, since the North won the 3 1/2 day war (Real Time). I think. Depends on which way the black hole spins for ya I suppose. For me it was retrograde, which means…
“Gabby,” Amos Truth rasps from within the cell. It had been 20 weeks (2 1/2 weeks Real Time) since the last fire. Gabby thought he would be through it all by this point. Usually is. 6 times this has happened, he thinks, staring at his burnt crisp of a brother. “Gabby,” he sputtered again in that sickly, smokey hiss. “I want you to — do — me, a — favor.” He then paused; Gabby leaned in to hear better. “Anything brother of mine. Do you want me to kill the person who did this to you? Can I *finally* do that? I can’t stand to see you this way.”
“Gabby,” he coughed and wheezed again. “I want you to…”
Amos Truth died that day in the no. 3 cell of the Toppsity Police Department. No revival would happen this time. The pain had gone on too long.
I can’t fight fire with fire with these *witches*,” Gabby seethed afterwards, watching them cart the remains of his brother away from the station and toward the mass grave out next to the old Wal Mart off Route 8. “I’ll have to drown them instead.”
He knew he’d have to see Marilyn next. Mrs. Niagara.
Gabby Truth gave Judge Tronesisia a ride back to Toppsity from Cassandra City, since it was his destination as well. No need for the underwater train today. Relief! Tronesisia liked to stay on the surface of things; not get too deep. What if a window broke and her compartment flooded. Rust! The enemy of all antiquated mechanoids, with her as no exception. Gabby gabbed a considerable amount, of course, but it was definitely worth it. She decided to use a lot of head nodding early on. Then she nodded off completely for a while as Gabby talked on and on about scrying devices, his new car, the weather, the strange flu of course — everyone’s favorite topic these days. He must have talked 15 minutes about the significance of the number 19 in her reading, and also Paper. He probably talked 20 more minutes about wedding anniversary gifts starting with Paper and ending with Diamond. Unlike his speedy Little Bastard car, it took him a long time, then, to go from 0 to 60, ha ha.
But then, the witches get the last laugh (as usual). Road block. Literally, a huge block of plywood in the road. Witches sometimes aren’t very subtle in their messaging. Looks like Yoko Ona’s trial will have to be postponed yet another day.
Gabby Truth turned over the last card.
“Ahh. It’s just as I suspected. 19 again. The Sun. This means a positive outcome. You *will* be infected. The results will come back positive.”
Tronesisia knew she was a mechanoid and would not contract the strange flu that was going around Cassandra City and the South as a whole. Something else must be afoot.
“What do you mean — infected?”
He decided to consult his trusted magic crystal ball next to augment the magic cards. The meaning of the cards was not wrong but just needed clarification. He had Tronesisia’s question in his mind as he stared into the sacred, smokey sphere. Not ordinary glass by any means, its value more comparable to a Diamond. Gabby’s mind became its mind. He saw — Paper. It was obvious what the next scrying device should be.
“Go!” Tronesisia puts forth her hand to match Gabby’s.
“Good. Paper covers rock. Now we’re onto something.”