Tag Archives: Dr. Nightwing^*

Dinksyland

I hadn’t heard Dinksy Dix and his Wee Wonders Jazz Band in a while, so I fired them up when I had finished with Charlene. I thought about our conversation which took a strange twist and turn at the end while listening to what I believe was a Scott Joplin rag — unsure, though — must study up more on jazz soon. Anyway, the tune ended right as I came to the conclusion that she was just leading me on… perhaps she was even channeling that witch Fern in the moment — yes, I thought, that must be it. Just to throw me off. Makes sense: Fern could always do that with her surprise spells and notwhat. I decided I better move forward and tip the wee, dinky ones. Dinksy would never speak to me again in that squeaky, cartoon voice if I didn’t. I figured a ten-er would be enough. Not too much. Don’t want them going on the road again to Mississippi and Alabama and who knows where else. Teepot needs music and laughter too much in these days of dark times. Keep their income steady but low and they can’t fuel up that gigantic magic bus of theirs and fly off to… God it could be Mexico if we weren’t careful and they’d never make it back over the border, what with their size. They’d be branded foreign contraband for sure. But… enough. “Thanks Dinksy,” I offered to the drummer who was also the leader of the small band, and personally handed him the bill, knowing the others might just drink it away. I winked at Dinksy and he stared back, obviously expecting more for such fine playing. They’d been rehearsing for weeks, eager for Master Phillips’ return, as they called me, cute as a pie. I’m no more Master than the Doctor formerly serving drinks up at the Castle and now probably vacationing in the Alps or Cambodia or some other God forsaken place in the world at large. Somewhere either extremely cold or warm for certain, alchemy dictating the contrast.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0311, Teepot^^

castling

“You are a doctor. Aren’t you?”

The doctor puts his arms over his head in a stretch. “I am so, my dear lady. And *you*… are a nun. We are both servants of the community at large. This, erm, *Teepot*. Is that what we lot decided to call it, hmm?”

“I’m afraid you aren’t a part of our lot, doctor,” spoke New Nun honestly. “You are not an inhabited soul. You are merely a prop. I merely ask if you are the doctor to see if *you* realize this.” She was truthful but not harsh. No need to get testy with this fellow servant, as he called himself. Good. He may be worth saving in the long haul.

“I *see*.” But did he really see? He made the queer observation again in his pleasant, proper British accent, as if he were repeating himself at a set interval. “You know, when I started this bartending gig here those statues over there were nude. I just came to work one day and they were suddenly clothed, out of the blue. I remember it being a clear, crisp morning. I had the same tweed jacket I have on today. In fact…”

“You never remove it from your body,” New Nun guessed about what he was going to say.

The doctor eyed her keenly. “Yeeeess. Me thinks you know more than you let on, madam.” He thought back to her earlier statement, absurd in the moment but becoming a growing, flickering possibility in his diamond-like mind. Although a prop true, he was such an extraordinary learned and storied one that he truly may be becoming alive in the moment. New Nun could be right about him being worth saving. Why would I doubt her? It’s in her business after all.

She looked at him squarely. “But you are not the doctor I seek.”

“Oh?”

“No.” She took a final sip of her whiskey drink and was gone. The doctor vaguely waved goodbye before forgetting who she was.

New customer, one blacked out but with dangerous curves. She felt the cross and crucifix disappear from her hand beneath the counter. She remembers Rhode… second life. His head pivots toward her as the sequence begins again.

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teeth

Preston Weston heard his own voice on the tape his father was viewing. “Hey dad?”

“Yes son,” slouching Craighead Phillips Option 01 said from the couch.

“Whatcha watching, heh?”

“Oh, just your school play you put on last year. Can’t get enough of it.” He chuckles at something his son said on the videotape, currently playing the role of Hamlet.

“Cool, cool, heh.”

There was silence between the two as dad watched act 01 scene 03 unfold.

“Hey son. There’s Felicia Mae Appletree. Didn’t you have a thing for her (mother) last year?”

“Yeah, heh, a thing,” returns Preston Weston, thinking: duh, still a thing, dad.

“What did you use to say about her? — so cute.”

“Geez, I don’t know, dad.” Pacman level 3 had just been reached by eating the last red ghost.

“Yeah, he he, I remember. You said, that apple tree needs shaking, dad.”

“Right. I remember.” A new ghost appears, new apple color. Green this time.

More silence as each are engrossed in their respective activities. Then Craighead Phillips abruptly switches off the new colored TV his wife bought just this afternoon. “Well, I’m satisfied with the product, Preston. How do you like the new colored monitor we bought in tandem, eh? 1/2 price on each. What a deal.”

“It’s, er, *great* dad. Never knew there were more than two shades of ghosts. All these colors, heh!”

“Okay, we’re both satisfied. Let’s go tell your mother.”

“Oh, heh. Mom always goes out at about this time to the bridge club.”

“Oh… well, um, let’s get something to eat, eh? Little snack before supper?”

—–

“I’m on my dessert already and you haven’t even hardly touched your sandwich yet. What gives?”

“Oh, a little belly ache I suppose, heh.” Preston Weston forces himself to take another bite of the BLT before him, knowing that his mama would fix a full meal only about an hour later that he would be *required* to finish.

“How was school today? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“Fine, dad. Thanks for picking me up,” he said with a mouthful.

“You’re welcome.” *slurp*

“How’s, er, mom’s mouse?”

“That’s mousse, son. And it’s fine.” *slurp*. “Almost perfect, actually.”

“Oh right. Mousse, like the animal moose. Not a mouse, hehe, heh.”

“Right son.” *double slurp* “Well, I’m done. Guess it’s time to go.”

“You heading back to — where, heh, did you say you came from today?”

“Athlone Village. In the middle of it all, which is — go ahead and say it with me, son.”

“Which is unfortunately in the way,” they utter in tandem, Preston Weston rather reluctantly, tired of the old saying.

—–

“What time did your father leave today, Preston Weston?” Her voice suddenly had that edge to it. Father talk edge.

“Oh, heh. Um, about 4 I guess. Maybe, heh, closer to 5?”

“Bridge time, then, hmm,” Your Mama dismissed.

Preston Weston wanted to ask his mother if that bridge would ever get built but resisted the urge.

She turned to her other son, in the chair. “How about you Robin? When did *you* get home from the wilds? Did you also see your father?”

I’m not his son, he thought. “Oh, about 5 as well. Must have just missed him, sorry.” He wasn’t sorry.

They all kept watching “Leave it to Beav” in living color after this. Starring: the Beav.

“Look ma,” Preston Weston indicated. “Like *me*!”

He was suddenly inside the TV set again, 3 hours lost.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0015, 0506, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^

pause 04

Duncan spoke to the just arrived Dr. Nightwing. “The train derezzed before I could teleport you over. Sorry about that. But never mind. We’re here.”

“The beginning of the end,” the Dr. offered. “The trail to the treasure.”

“Well… *they* might think so.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“You’ll see.”

—–

The two began hiking through one of the most desolate, wastelandy places left in Our Second Lyfe. But the dotting system trees still comforted Duncan. He was Lindener above all now, since they saved him. *He* saved him. And this was about as Linden as you can get. Until you reach the end.

—–

“They’re heading toward the Moon of the Moon,” Ragdoll squealed in excitement. “The big loop! Beginning meets end.”

“Well, not quite,” said Ruby, pencil still twirling away beneath her hand.

“Let’s pause here,” Indigo declared, stretching her arms and yawning. “Getting late.”

“No,” countered her ragdoll sister across the table. “We’re almost there! Let’s press on. Get these two to the — what do you call it? Infohub?”

Ruby stopped the writing. “We better fire up the interwebs and check. Check out the whole Confederation of Democratic Simulators site before proceeding forward.”

“Second Lyfe Moon,” cooed Ragdoll. “And its own Moon not far behind. Equilateral gravity on all 6 sides. Just like Phillip prophesized about.”

—–

“The trees change here at this sim crossing, Dr. Nightwing. Snowier and shorter.”

“I still don’t see it.” He was a little out of breath by now. Duncan surged ahead, seeming to draw energy from the landscape.

“Not long now.”

—–

“*There* it finally is. Beginning to worry the thing we saw back there near the road was a mirage. Dr.?” He turned. “Dr.??”

The alien man had collapsed in the snow, as if the very landscape around them *drained* him. Duncan walked back to the Dr. “I still can’t see it, Duncan. I’m not sure I ever will. I’m changing over here. It’s a weak point. I saw the end but couldn’t change it. Fixed point in time. Legend will say (he caught his breath)… will say you killed me here. But we’ll know the truth. (deep breath) That’s the important thing.”

The transition began.

—–

He had no choice, if what the Dr. said was true. Head to the Second Lyle Moon — *potential* Moon — or else be imprisoned for life or worse. He turned back to the green pine forest now almost out of sight before ascending the final bit of slope. “Vanished, man,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just vanished.”

He had always heard it was otherwise.

—–

He was here.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0011, 0617, Purden/Snowlands^, Rubi^, Teepot^^

pause 03

As Dr. Nightwing continued to stare out the window at the southern Okemo Canyon view and contemplate possibilities, the 13th miraculously fell out of the sky right in front of him. Duncan Avocado. Landing without even a scratch upon his body.

—–

“Let’s talk about this,” suggested Indigo to her side.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0011, 0616, Purden/Snowlands^, Rubi^

pause 02

Dr. Nightwing had traversed the whole of Okemo Gorge many times now. But the so-called Murderkiller hadn’t struck again in several weeks, November 27th to be exact. He was sure the perpetrator would employ the deepest and longest canyon in Snowlands for body dumpings sometime, perhaps as part of a climactic spree of some kind. But how to police it all? Luckily there was the ONSR (Okemo, Nakiska, and Southern Railway) running through its center.

12 stops existed along the railroad, almost the same number of murders already perpetrated by the Murderkiller in Snowlands (13). He understands 12 shouldn’t be forced into 13 so easily, but can’t help himself. And certainly the 13th and last is being highlighted through various, recently exposed details. On *this side* that would be Schism Santa, torn limb from limb by the rogue yeti on a lake isle in Schism and then deposited in the gorge running from the lake to the Southern Sea. How many body parts were found? He recalls 7 — he’ll keep that in mind. But his ruminations keep coming back to that island for a particular reason.

And he must always hold in mind that the killer yeti is in all likelihood merely an outward disguise for something far more villainous and conniving. He knows this through Audrey; he’s learn to trust her intuition. “This is *not* a yeti rampage,” is one of her recent mantras on the subject. “Yetis do not kill 13 beloved Christmas figures over here, then go over there and murder the same amount. This is the work of a mastermind.” In fact, it was Audrey who coined the name Murderkiller. 13 killed over here, you see, then 13 murdered over there. She lists all the names out in that direction: 12 young women on The Cross, with the 11th and 12th begin Ruby and Indigo (as previously illuminated). But the 13th? Also a man in that case, she’s determined from all the evidence. One Duncan Avocado, an escaped slave from the southern part of the Omega continent — Dixie it is slangly called by some, after a similar splinter nation off the old United States of America that was dissolved in the 2030s, he believed; 2036 comes to mind (the United States, not Dixie). But then the topper: Audrey also uncovered a lake island in connection with *his* death. 13th mirrors 13th in that respect. What could it mean? They’ve had long conversions on the subject the last several evenings, sandwiched around their most popular of nighttime activities. His back remains a little sore today.

He can’t follow all the Omega continent leads and patrol the Okemo Canyon at the same time — his *own* hunch for the location of 12 or 13 *more* killings to come. He realizes he must have a confederate — a *companion*. Audrey is a logical choice, what with her brilliance of mind. But there’s also the muted Mystic Girl to consider. Hmmm. Maybe both? he then realizes. He can have more than one companion at a time. Nothing in the Cosmic Rulebook he plays by states otherwise; he’s checked the related sections many times now. But here’s the problem: these would be his 12th and 13th companions overall, if so. He dare not put a lady in the target of a ruthless killer by slapping a number 13 on her back side. However, he also most definitely needs a 12th. So — bottom line (he decides) — he needs to choose. This would be his right hand person to his left hand working over here.

—–

“I just want to pause here again,” says Indigo to the quickly scribbling Ruby on her right. “So that’s 13 *killings* in… Snowlands. Then 13 *murders* on the Omega continent and its cross.”

“*The* Cross,” chips in Ragdoll across from her.

“Yes. And then 12 or 13 more in the Okemo Canyon? Is this what Dr. Nightwing has projected? Or maybe sees in the future?”

Ruby gnaws on the eraser of the pencil while thinking. “No,” she decides. “We don’t have time to open another can of worms like that in the current novel journal.” She begins to erase the related line. “Let’s… leave it that Dr. Nightwing is puzzling over the similarities of the 13th killings in each direction while patrolling the Okemo Canyon.” She wipes away the eraser shards. “We don’t have to go into detail about what he’s doing there.”

“We don’t?” queries young Ragdoll, eyes alert with surprise, then relaxed. “I do like the idea of the Murderkiller. And the Killen Ponds.”

“Killen Ponds?” exclaim Ruby and Indigo as one. Where did *that* come from?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0011, 0615, Purden/Snowlands^, Rubi^

Vila 01 02

“Looks like we’ve found something, Mystic Girl. Seems we’re not done with Gaston after all. Better send Duncan back in.”

Police department, yep, thought synchronized Mystic Girl while turning. Knew it all along.

But she also knew that Duncan wouldn’t like what’s coming up.

—–


Oh no. I’m being used again.

—–

“You can’t go through that gate. But you *can*. Right Mystic Girl?”

“Mystic Girl?”

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hidden

Mystic Girl had finished washing and dying her hair, actions which gave Dr. Nightwing the chance to slip away and meet Audrey in the Asunder gorge.

“This road is deeply disturbing to me, Mystic Girl,” Dr. Nightwing pronounced in front of the identifying sign, somehow missed before in his investigations.

We must be nearing The End, Mystic Girl thought but of course didn’t speak aloud.

Not needing a reply, Dr. Nightwing took another gander down the long road, approx. half a sim in length. “No VW on this particular Abbey Road, but many *other* cars  — seemingly abandoned alongside it, even in the shallow woods to the west.”

“And then a wall running almost the entire length on the east, allowing potential access into the next sim only through a small gate about halfway down from here…”

“… and then this larger gate at the end… actually, maybe a little beyond the end. ”

The Straight, silly, thought Mystic Girl. This is another representation.

“If we could only get through that gate. That’s the key. But we *need* a key to pass through. Another conundrum. That little car there must have tried and failed. Trapped in the snow with the others.”

“We are not allowed access. But that doesn’t mean something can’t come through from the other side.”


Her Majesty.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0011, 0417, Purden/Snowlands^

gorges

“Could be in this very gorge here that we find the next victim, Audrey.” He eyes her heart shaped ruby pendant again, leans closer to admire it more this time. “This gorgeous… gorge.” He clasps the pendent and raises it. Funny, she thinks. This is exactly what I did to Jeffrie’s tie earlier.

—–

Afterwards:

“Gorges,” Dr. Nightwing begins again. “Not *that* kind of gorge…” he points to the pendant, “… but *this* kind.” He waves his arm to indicate the place they’re at. “Think back my love. The 7th which was actually the 1st — spotted in a Purden gorge by Woody and Snowmanster. The 8th was ate, true, so no need to hide the cadaver in a gorge. Then the mass snowmen grave which, afterwards, was turned *into* a gorge through excavation… mini-gorge, true, but still…”

“And this… book you gave me earlier. Will explain it all, as it’s happening in… real time? Amazing.”

“There’s only one other copy, Audrey, so keep that stashed away in a safe spot at all costs. Fallen into the wrong hands…”

“I know, I know. End of a world.”

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found

The smiling faces of the Millertons, a local family of snowmen assuming their kin Frederica was out partying all night with friends Jennifer and Annison, were about to be turned upside down with the tragic news.

1 down, 3 to go.

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