Homestuck: AU Act 2 Chapter 2 PATRON PREVIEW and SCRIPT (Patreon)

[A version without SFX, posted early for patrons!]

SCRIPT:

Your name is Rose Lalonde.

After a fitful night of sleep, you awaken blearily. You say "night," but it appears "night" doesn't exist on whatever planet you've ended up on, light beaming down from the sky into your windows mercilessly.

==

TT: Alright. I'm up. Status?

==

No responses. Just your luck. Appears as though you've woken up first. Terrific.

"Hewwo?" comes a creaky voice from outside your bedroom door.

"Come in, Jaspers," you say patiently. Your sprite, Jaspers, enters.

Back on the dark, rainy roof of your house, before your foolish leap off the building and into the river, you'd haphazardly tossed a doll into your kernel-sprite, making the orb transform into a large-scale living replica of princess Chthulhu. You came to know this act as "prototyping."

Upon entering the game, however, you decided to take a chance. Inspired by John's own grandma-prototyping, you put the remains of your cat Jaspers into yours, and, to your astonishment, you watched as he returned from the dead.

"I don't think I ever thanked you, Jaspers," you say, watching in amusement as his whiskers twitch, ghostly pink body wriggling in excitement.

"Thanked me? For what, Miss Rose?" Jaspers asks earnestly. The kitty appears to have retained Princess Cthulhu's tentacle-arms, which he uses to wrap you in a tight hug.

"For saving my life. Catching me before I fell into that river." you hug Jaspers back, amused. He's just as sweet as he was in life- Though your memories of him are a tad fuzzy. How apt, as he's fuzzy in and of himself.

"Of course! It's my job as a kitty and also your sprite, Miss Rose!" he bonks his forehead into yours before playfully springing away.

You look out the window, drawing your curtains, eyes squinting. No use. The obnoxious light still seeps inside.

"Can you tell me where I am, Jaspers? You mentioned the Land of Light and Rain." Deciding to make use of your wakefulness, you grill Jaspers for game info.

"Of course, Miss Rose!" he says eagerly. "The Land of Light and Rain is your land! It's a wonderful place- Or it WAS, before that mean Cetus moved in!"

"Cetus?" you ask.

"Mhm! He's a nasty brute- Look!" Jaspers points one tendril-hand out your window. Jaspers appears to have retained his shape from joining with your plush Princess Cthulhu, giving him an amusing appearance, two tendril-appendages and a lovely princess's gown wrapped around his catlike body. If Dave saw this, he'd definitely call you a furry or something.

You reluctantly re-open the curtain and look out over the vast, multicolored ocean upon which your house now sits. 

"Those waters used to be just full of fish which the people of this land ate! Mean ol' Cetus ate all of 'em and now she slumbers in the depths," Jaspers chirps.

You blink.

"Hold on. This is a game world, not a real one. It was created when we started our Sburb session. Cetus didn't do that, did she? It's just a story to move the game."

"Well, um!" Jaspers wriggles, unsure of how to respond. "I guess! That's just the info I have..."

"So, what? The point of the game is to beat Cetus?"

"Sort of!" Jaspers looks uncomfortable again. "I mean, Cetus is the end of your quest, not of the whole game."

"What's the point of the whole game?" you ask, straightforwardly.

"Oh! Um- I can't tell you unless you take care of Cetus, and-"

"Why?"

Your questions seem to baffle Jaspers, who flattens his ears to his head. You relent- You don't want to hurt his kitty feelings, after all.

"I don't know Miss Rose! I just know what I know. I'm sorry..."

"Oh, Jaspers, come here," you insist. You have a feeling that he's telling the truth. No- Jaspers isn't being vague, it's the game itself being vague. You scratch behind Jaspers's ears gently.

Still- You really don't want to fuck around with some "quest," if you can help it. It sounds like busywork to you. You look towards where your computer once sat, now crushed by the machine Dave had foolishly placed there.

"Ugh. I said I'd help John with his house, but I don't know if I can even connect. I've only been able to talk to everyone on my phone." You speak aloud mostly for your own sake, but Jaspers responds cheerfully.

"Why, Miss Rose! You can use the Ectobiologizer!" Jaspers hops up and points at the machine Dave so kindly provided.

"I... Can?" you quirk a brow. "How does that work? Can I connect with this?"

"No, silly! You can use it to fix your laptop! Here!" Jaspers taps on a panel, one of the ectobiologizer's screens flickering to life. "All we have to do is go to the past and find your computer BEFORE it was broken and take it!"

"Take it? Like... From time?" you watch him curiously.

Jaspers uses some controls and dials to fast-forward the view on-screen which is a view of your own room, the one you're standing in now. Jaspers rewinds to a few weeks ago.

"Now! We hit the button aaaand-!" Jaspers slams his tentacle onto a button and one of the two tubes of the ectobiologizer fills with a green sludge. It looks to you like your mother's lime jell-o shots.

"Jaspers," you say, amused. "I'm afraid I cannot use... Goo to contact my friends."

"No, dummy!" Jaspers says, giddily grabbing the busted computer from the floor. "You can't steal what's in the past, because it's in the past! Duh. BUT. You can steal its... Sort of instructions! A copy, made of ecto-goo!"

"Is that the official name? Ecto-goo?" You watch amusedly as Jaspers loads the broken computer into the other of the two tubes.

"Using the ecto-goo clone as instructions and the broken computer, we can ectobiologize something new! A working computer!"

Jaspers slams another button located between the ecto-tubes and with a bright flash, the objects vanish.

"Where's your alchemizer, Rose?" Jaspers inquires. You both traipse to the roof, and there, sitting on the alchemizer slab, is your repaired computer, pristine as it was when you first got it!

"Jaspers! You fixed it!" You say breathlessly, petting his head proudly. "Thank you again."

"Hee hee! Do you forgive me for not knowing that other stuff, now, Miss Rose?" Jaspers asks, bonking his forehead into yours.

"Of course," you say, and you mean it. The ability to repair items is one thing, but you can also see the use of combining items to make new ones. Your mind is already racing. "Can this be used to make other things? Could I, say... Make a NEW thing out of ecto-goo?"

"Mhm, mhm! The only rule is one of the two things has to be a real item! Otherwise the result will just be more goo, hehe."

Back in your room, you snag your book, "Grimoire of the Zoologically Dubious" and plonk it into the tube. With the ecto-machine, you zoom back in time and select Princess Cthulhu before she had been tossed into your kernel-sprite. When you and Jaspers return to the roof, there on the Alchemiter, is a miniature-sized real-life Cthulhu, roaring cutely in a little princess crown and tutu. You pick up the little creature, tickling its face, amused.

"This could be very useful, Jaspers. Thank you very much. My friends and I will get a lot of use out of this."

Jaspers purrs loudly, bonking his forehead into your shoulder. You walk back to your room with Mini Princess Cthulhu and place her gently on your bed next to the laptop. She seems content to stomp around your bedsheets for now.

==

TT: I'm up. Anyone else awake?

TG: so it seems

GG: up and at em :)

GG: its really cold in my land D:

TG: lucky you

TG: looks like egbert is still snoozin

TG: can you see him TT

TG: wait shit

TG: is your computer fucked can you even see him any more

TT: Ah, yes. My computer IS "fucked." Now how could such a thing have come about, I wonder?

TT: Lucky for you, Dave, I found an alternative. I'll appraise you all later.

TT: Yes, I see him sleeping. Good lord, he's having some kind of terrible dream.

GG: he is?

TT: He's thrashing in bed.

TT: I can't blame him, we've all had a rough past day.

GG: hmmmmm...

TT: Is that "hm" of meaning, Jade?

GG: i dunno yet! but i feel like thats not just normal bad dreams...

TT: I'll leave that mystery to you, then. Meanwhile.

TT: Like I said. You two work on imps. I'll work on John's house. He can sleep in for now.

TG: already on it

GG: okay!

==

Looks like your teammates are working well. Good. You turn your attention to John's abode, zooming out. A readout says "100m left," and you assume this means the remaining height until John can access the first gate.

Just like the Sims, you are able to not only influence John's environment, but build upon it, too: Walls and staircases and floors all using drag-and-drop capabilities. Through some careful experimentation, it becomes clear that you do not have to regard conventional building practices, as John's house appears to be mostly anchored in place supernaturally.

The end result is a somewhat greebled-looking house that spirals into the sky. Sadly, you run out of grist almost immediately. You check the readout. "88m to go." Lovely. All that you've managed to place is a few plaforms with a staircase. You watch the grist counter.

John obtained grist from imps, but you haven't actually seen any in your time in the Land of Light and Rain. Maybe your friends are having better luck.

==

TT: How goes the grist collection?

GG: um! bad news. i havent seen any yet. :(

GG: in fact i havent seen any, like, at all. i think my land might not have them?

TT: Dave?

TG: its slow going

TG: they mostly try to climb up the side of my building but they fall into the lava before they get up here and my dumbass sprite just knocks them back down so i cant nab the grist

TG: sorry rolal

TT: Perhaps we could make some form of trap for them? This is all rather annoying.

TG: i dont think thats how it goes

GG: yeah! its a game! so we have to grind and stuff for a little while.

TT: But grinding is boring.

TG: well sure but

TG: thats the game

TT: Well, the game sucks.

==

You cross your arms.

"Jaspers?" you call out. "Any imps?"

"Sorry, Miss Rose! None nearby."

You frown, sighing.

"Jaspers? Where does grist come from?" you ask. Another question that makes Jaspers a little nervous. "It's okay if you don't know," you hastily qualify.

"Well... It comes from imps?"

"Do you know how it gets in the imps?"

"No, Miss Rose..."

"Do you know where the imps come from?"

"Sorry, Miss Rose..."

You pat him on the head before he gets insecure again. This makes no sense. This is a game, sure, but every game is built somehow. They're code, rules, data. This is a real-life game, but even real life has rules. Yet no one will tell you how this game ticks.

"Jaspers?" you ask. You decide if he can't answer your esoteric questions, you'll ask him some he CAN answer.

"Y-yeah, Miss Rose?" he says hesitantly.

"What's that?" you point towards the sky, to the single star, still lit and visible even against the bright sky of your land. Jaspers perks up.

"I know that one, Miss Rose! That's Skaia!" he leans on your shoulder, purring.

"What happens there?"

"Oh, Skaia is a magical place! It's where the forces of light battle the forces of darkness. And it's your final goal in the game!"

He looks so eager to talk about something that he knows about, and you make sure to affect attentiveness as you listen.

"High in Skaia, an eternal stalemate wages betweent he Black King of Derse and the White King of Prospit," he begins. You're already lost, but you don't speak up.

"Those imps you're fighting come from Derse, too! They're sent to prevent you from finishing your quest. But! The forces of light and darkness are locked inside a struggle neither can win." Jaspers pats his chest. "That's where I come in."

"You?" you quirk a brow.

"Yep!" he says proudly. "Before you enter the game, you prototype your kernel- That's me! With an object from your old universe. In your case, it was that cute doll! That's why I still have these funny tentacle arms!" Jaspers wiggles them for good measure. "Once you pass through your first gate, the kernel's data gets sent high into the sky and empowers your enemies."

"So... They gain tentacle-powers, too?" you rub your chin. "So after I go through the gate... The imps we're fighting will be stronger?"

"That's right! But the forces of light will be stronger, too! This process and your entrance into the world is what will finally tip the scales!"

"What if we hadn't prototyped anything? And what if we don't enter our first gates?" you ask. "Wouldn't it be better to not empower our enemies?"

"Well..." Jaspers sits back down. "It would be easier to fight, sure. But if you don't prototype anything, the fight can never finish! The game can't be won unless first you make it winnable? Does that make sense, Rose?"

"I supppose," you say. It sounds arbitrary to you, but it's not like you think Jaspers is lying. "Where do the imps come from? And these forces of light you speak of?"

"Oh! They live on Prospit and Derse, Miss Rose! They're the big moons that orbit Skaia. Prospit orbits inside and Derse orbits past your land."

"Prospit..." that name sounds familiar. You think you've heard Jade say it before. Jaspers continues.

"Derse is the really bad place, though," Jaspers shudders. "That's where all the imps and bad guys live... But! But! Once you defeat the mean king and queen of Derse, that's when you get your Ultimate Reward, Miss Rose!"

"So. Power up through the gates. Beat the Black King and Queen. Claim the reward."

"Yep! There are other steps, but them's the basics!" Jaspers purrs louder. "In fact, you don't even have to kill the king, just break his big nasty scepter. That's where his power comes from! But be careful-" Jaspers's voice gets low and mysterious, like a very spirited narrator of a puppet show. "Once the Black King is in danger, he'll start The Reckoning!"

"The reckoning?" you ask. Jaspers is on a roll now. He points up in the sky. Around Skaia there is a thin grey line that slices the horizon in half.

"Yep! See that big line, Rose? That's a ring of meteors called the veil. The Black King can use his scepter to call the meteors down to crash into Skaia! It's a big mess."

You shudder. You've had enough of meteors, lately.

"Well. We probably have time before that," you say.

"Plenty!" Jaspers agrees.

Before, your house sat on top of a river in New England. Now, it sits atop the ocean in the Land of Light and Rain. Outdoors, you notice that the house is situated on a tiny island, near which is a dock. It strikes you that you haven't seen your mother all day, and a pang of guilt makes you realize that it took you all morning to even think of that.

You walk out into the grass that used to be your yard, checking the coast of the new island you live on, now. You think over what Jaspers was able to tell you.

Prospit... The name of the land Jade dreams about. A big golden city floating in the sky. You wonder about Derse, where the forces of evil come from. Derse... Sounds much more fun than goody-two-shoes Prospit. With a smile, you wonder what they're doing around Derse.

You are no longer Rose Lalonde.

Your name is Jonathan Egbert- Senior. Some might call you... Dad.

At present, you're in jail.

You never thought you'd find yourself in the slammer of all places, being a strictly law-abiding fellow, but you're not in America any more. A hot-blooded patriot like yourself could be jailed for all manner of things, such as exercising too much FREEDOM or speaking out in a way THE MAN didn't like.

Frankly, as the years go by, you find it harder and harder to be patriotic, as things like freedom in your country gave way to instead being warmongers and imperialists, but you're no politician.

That and you're fairly sure America doesn't exist any more.

"Hey!" you say, squeezing your face to the bars of your jail. For some reason, everything here is purple. The walls, the floors, the ceilings, a dark handsome shade of the royal hue. You narrow your eyes. Royal Purple... The color of kings... You feel sick. You bet this place doesn't even know what DEMOCRACY is.

"What is it, you?" asks your jailer, patting a baton against his black-shelled hand. All the funny people in this god-forsaken place are weirded carapaced guys. You don't have anything against the carapaced, of course, and in fact you think they look rather dapper, all clad in smart black and reasonable suits.

Out of respect for the foreign national, you take the reasonable hat off your head.

"What's your name?" you demand. Be polite, but stern. That's the Way of the Dad.

"I'm Authority Regulator number Eight-Two-Eight," he says. Your heart sinks. These poor bastards don't even get names?

"That's a mouthful," you say.

"Well you're a handful," he responds bitterly. He's of course, referring to your numerous jailbreaks in your past few days of captivity. Turns out, compared to these carapace guys, you're pretty strong. The bars of your other cages tore clean off! Now, though, you're in high-security lockdown, alone in a cage that could contain an elephant. You're a little proud of this.

"I'll just call you AR, is that alright, son?" you ask. AR shrugs indifferently.

"When's dinner around here?" you ask. AR seems disarmed by your cooperation. No doubt people have told him all kinds of stories about you busting out of jail recently.

"An hour," he says curtly. He's stopped patting the club against his hand and now has his arms sternly crossed. He's a big fellow, you think. Maybe not ALL these carapaces are creampuffs. You doubt you can fight the guy, but he does appear to have a key ring on his person, one that you're ready to steal at a moment's notice.

"How did you become an, er- Authority Regulator?" you ask politely, trying to establish rapport to get him to come closer. AR sheepishly grimaces, taking the hat off, placing it on the guard table nearby.

"Queen's policy," he says, simply. "I got other side gigs, if you're worried about my quality of life."

You can tell that last part is sarcastic, but your suspicions are confirmed. A monarchy. You shake your head in dismay.

"Sorry she's making you do all this, watch some problem case like myself," you say. AR leans on the bars of your cell, sighing loudly.

"You're not half bad, guy," he says gruffly. "Yeah, the queen's a hard-ass about that sorta thing. Though no one's more pissed than her arch-agent, the Sovreign Slayer."

As the guard talks, you crack your knuckles. Your mother, the famous stage magician Jane Egbert, taught you everything you know about sleight-of-hand. You miss your dear mother so much, but something about tactfully lifting the keyring off the guard's belt and knowing just how to hold it so it doesn't make a jingle makes you think she'd be proud.

"-and so the Slayer's on grunt duty until he shapes up. It's a farce if you ask me," he says, letting another sigh. He nudges you with the elbow through the bars. "But hey. They're not payin' me to yak. They're not payin' me at all! Ha!"

Your heart breaks. You hate to have to betray a noble laborer like this AR fellow, but you have no choice. Before he traipses off down the hall again, you call to him.

"You should consider joining a union!" as you shout, the guard turns back.

"What's a union?"

God damn if that isn't the saddest thing you've ever heard.

Once AR is gone, you fiddle with the keys and unlock yourself, shutting the door carefully behind you. Using your fabled DAD VIGOR, you sprint in the opposite direction of the AR and hoof it up a flight of stairs. You're underground, you know that much, so getting higher is job number one.

Hiding out of sight of a few other guards, you make it to the exit of the building, or at least, near it. The only thing standing between you and the streets outside now is a roomful of carapaces. Looks like there's nothing for it. You roll up your sleeves.

"GANGWAY!" you bellow, hand outstretched like a football star, toppling carapaces like bowling pins, slamming the door open as the alarm begins to blare, but by the time they've raised hell, your feet have hit the bricks. You're free!

Free in a hostile foreign city, that is. Catching your breath in a side street, you slow to a jog, patting your head to make sure your hat is still there. Good. A little bent, but still serviceable.

You decide to take a break and regroup, ducking into what appears to be an abandoned bar, the storefront shattered and crumbling, the booths and tables inside long since coated in purple dust.

Your name is now Roxanne Lalonde, or as some call you- Mom.

You've known this day would come for a long time. Eighteen years, to be precise. If you were a better mom, you would have told your daughter, but as it stands, you're not, and so she never knew of her fate.

Presently, you're trying to help your daughter however you can and the best way you can think to do that is to get out of her way, a place you always seem to find yourself being.

A few days ago, once you found yourself and your home in the Land of Light and Rain, you ectobiologized yourself a boat and sped off across the pastel ocean for the nearest port.

The "nearest port" however turned out to be a shitty island in the middle of the ocean, where your gasless boat is now docked. Right now, you're skipping white stones across the pastel waters in your dirty lab coat, trying to solve the puzzle of your continued survival.

There is no day or night on LOLAR, but you are getting sleepy. The island you're stranded on is about the size of a room in your old house, but it does feature a small opening in the ground leading to what appears to be a cave. Maybe down there is some decent place to get out of the glaring light of the planet.

To your surprise, though, the hole features a ladder of iron attached to the wall, a little like the opening to a manhole. You climb down carefully, feet hitting what feels like stone or concrete at the bottom. You can't see a damn thing and you dind't bring a flashlight, so while your eyes adjust, you stumble around, feeling at the walls. The cave below appears to be fairly large, and odder still, your hand finds a lightswitch, clicking on a massive light high above.

Now illuminated, you can see the room is cavernous, like your own lab at home, dotted with what appears to be gargantuan ectobiology tubes, each one filled with the familiar paradox slime you've worked with for years.

You wander forth, looking into the slime, seeing the faint silhouettes of what appear to be humanoid figures. What have you just stumbled upon? Your musings, however, are cut short by a brusque voice.

"Just what are you doing here?" a voice from behind you cries out. It's stern and stentorian, of a familiar accent you haven't heard in decades. To your abject shock, you turn around, recognition dawning on both your face and the face of this mustachioed intruder.

"Mister Harley?" you say, dumbfounded.

Jacob Fitzgerald Harley steps out of the shadows, hands on his hips. He's wearing a pith helmet and leaning on a rifle, his mustache twisting from side to side, eyeing you up and down, one eye closed behind a monacle.

"What in blue blazes are YOU doing here, Roxanne?" he demands.

"Uh," you scoff, crossing your arms. "That's my line, big guy. You're supposed to be dead!"

You remember it distinctly. A sad obituary, "Jacob Harley dead," read online long ago.

"I AM dead," he insists belligerently.

"Oh fuck," you say, bewildered. "A ghost??"

"Not a ghost, you giddy girl," he says. "What I mean is- I WILL be dead, more than likely. Don't tell me how! I don't want some spoiler to ruin my mind for however long I've got left."

"So... A time traveler?" the pieces slot in. You've seen weirder stuff.

"Bingo," he says. "And a space traveller as well, it seems. I'm far afield, this time- And let me tell you, young lady, I've been FAR afield!"

Jacob beckons you closer. "Now, do tell me, Miss Lalonde. What are you doing now? Last I saw of you, you were babysitting my rugrats back home at the Claire house."

You wince. Those aren't the most pleasant memories for you.

"That was thirty years ago for me," you say. "Now I'm working at your company. Skaianet."

"Hot diggety!" he says, raising his eyebrows. "They must've lowered their employment standards! Thirty years ago... And I thought you were getting up in years! I always knew you'd be an old spinster."

He elbows you in the ribs and you squirm, laughing politely. Jacob never was the most self-aware man and had a habit of stating things rather bluntly at best and unintentionally malicious at worst. You... THINK that was a joke? He's sure grinning about it.

"I'm actually the head of regional-"

"Am I living on the island yet, from your perspective, kitten?" he asks, cutting you off rudely, stroking his mustache. You wince again. No one has called you some derisive pet name in years. He has a way of making everyone around him feel small.

"As far as I know," you reply, clipped.

Jacob shoulders his rifle, striding briskly towards a panel at the opposite end of the room. You recognize it as a transportalizer, colored a deep purple.

"Come along, then, dear," he says with characteristic impatience. "No use reminiscing for me, I'm afraid. The game's afoot- Literally!"

You both step on the panel and in a flash, you are somwehere else. The walls around you are a deep, royal purple and the place is layered in dust. It appears to be the back room of some kind of purple-hued store, the shelves stacked with wine, which Jacob catches you ogling.

"There's a time and a place for the sauce, you," he says, pushing open the door. You linger, however, slipping a small bottle into your jacket pocket. From further in, you hear Jacob exclaim, which makes you run to his side.

"Who the devil are you?!" he demands. The front of the store is some kind of bar, unused stools and tables dotting the place. Behind the counter is a dapperly-dressed man in a hat. A quite handsome man, to boot.

"That's my line, bozo," the handsome fellow says. "Put that thing away, you'll shoot your OTHER eye out, grandpa!"

"Well I never-!" Jacob bristles, but you put your hand on the barrel, lowering it. Your eyes meet the stranger and your heart suddenly hammers.

"Put that away," you say to Jacob. "He's probably just the bartender."

"Shows how much you know," Jacob says, shouldering his weapon. "This bar is a front for a local mafia! They use the teleporter in the back for nefarious deeds. I hijacked it in order to sleuth out the secrets of this mysterious land. THIS man," he says, indicating the dapper stranger. "Is new."

"I'm on the lam, thank you very much," says the man. "Just broke from prison- A dangerous criminal. So I suggest you don't mess with me, see?"

"Haw!" Jacob suddenly looks jovial, sitting at the bar. "Well in that case- A foe of the queen is a friend to me!" He sticks out his hand. "The name is Jacob Harley, at your service, sir!" Surprised, the man shakes it.

"Jon Egbert," he says.

"WHAT?!" you suddenly cry, slamming your hands on the table. The surprised-looking man cries out as you smack his face.

"What the- Woman, what are you doing?" Jacob demands, holding your shoulders. You're fuming now, seeing red.

"You- You've been sending my daughter messages for years! John Egbert, her little friend online! You're sick! Posing as a child to talk to my daughter, you-!"

"H-hold on, now, ma'am!" he says, holding a fearful hand up to block any further slaps. "I'm Jon Egbert SENIOR! My son is- Look-"

He takes out his wallet, opening it. Out spills a folio of photos of him and a small son.

"My son's your daughter's friend, so- Just relax, alright?"

"Oh!" you say, immediately cheerful again. "My mistake."

As the two boys chat, you look at the photos of Jon's kid. This child looks normal and does resemble some of the photos Rose keeps. Jon Senior doesn't seem to mind your outburst and you catch him glancing your way a few times.

"Listen up, you two," Jacob says, snapping you from your distraction. You eye the bottles behind Jon on the shelf. They'd make for a terrific aperetif for a date.

"You're probably wondering- Particularly you, Miss Lalonde, why I'm here." Jacob unshoulders a rucksack. "And how to get home."

Now Jacob has your attention. A way... Home? To a non-destroyed Earth, to boot?

"I know a way back to Earth, one of my informants has agreed to help me. But on the condition we complete a little mission for her- An assassination mission, see?" Jacob withdraws a polaroid photo from his pocket, depicting a black-carapaced woman wearing a stern expression and a crown. "This is the black queen."

"She's the one who locked me up," Jon says bitterly, lifting the photo to inspect it.

"And she's terrorizing the people of this land," Jacob continues. "But more importantly than that... She has something I want."

"More importantly than terrorizin' people?" you scoff. Jacob was always something of an egoist.

"That thing-" Jacob ignores you, withdrawing another photo, this time of a ring with four pearls inset on it. "-is this. The ring of orbs fourfold! One of a set. The other is elsewhere, in safe hands, but this one is presently on the finger of the dastardly black queen."

"And you want our help?" Jon asks.

"Sharp man!" Jacob says eagerly. "You help me square away this big shiny bitch and the three of us will coast on back home."

"But home is-" Jon begins his sentence, but Jacob cuts him off.

"For YOU, home is gone, but I'll be taking you back well before all that nonsense. You could live out your lives any time in history you like, see?"

Jon seems to think this over. You do, too, and while thinking, your eyes meet. You both look away hastily. Jacob scowls at this.

"What about my son?" Jon asks. To this, Jacob actually looks somewhat forlorn.

"Listen, Jon," Jacob puts a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Your son and Roxy's kid are part of something else, now. You're going to have to let him go."

Jon doesn't appear happy about this, but you have the strong sense that, like yourself, he hasn't felt like his child needs protecting for years.

"I have to at least see him before we go," Jon relents. Jacob nods curtly.

"And I suppose you want to see your little girl, too, Roxy?" Jacob's question takes you off-balance.

"Huh?"

"Your girl. You just said you had one when you nearly assaulted this gent, here." Jacob looks impatient.

"Oh," you swallow. "I don't think she'd want to see me."

There's a long, dusty silence in the empty bar.

"Well that's a fucking downer!" Jacob announces, clapping his hands together. "We'll rest here for the night and set out to take the ring come tomorrow!"

"I'm happy just to bring democracy to this great nation," says Jon rather patriotically. Something about his conviction just makes your heart swoon in spite of Jacob's buffonery.

"I'm coming, too," you say hastily, stepping close to the strapping fellow in the fedora. "Y'know. For, uh, democracy 'n such." Upon saying that, he smiles warmly and you think you might gasp out loud. You might be in your fifties (forties on your driver's license) but he's making you feel like a schoolgirl.

"Sounds good. Operation Regicide is a go. Before bed, let's talk strat-" Jacob's jovial words are cut off by silence, however, as outside, you all hear voices.

"Shit," Jacob hisses, grabbing you on the shoulder, tugging you towards the back from whence you came. "That must be this place's earnest owners. We have to hide."

The three of you rush into the back room just as the door opens and four figures burst in.